CHAPTER SEVEN

Ruby

Mr Parson, the drama teacher, held up his hands.

‘Drumroll, please,’ he said.

The class all tapped their feet on the floor to make a sound like a drumroll.

‘This year, our Christmas musical will be’ – he paused for dramatic effect – ‘The Wizard of Oz.’

There were some oohs, some aahs and some boos from the class.

Ignoring the boos, Mr Parson told them, ‘Auditions will take place next week. Don’t worry, everyone will have something to do. If you don’t get a part in the actual play then you’ll be helping backstage.’

Ruby clasped her hands together under her desk. She loved that movie and Dorothy was an amazing part. She wanted to play her so badly. She’d have to watch the movie and study the words and music really well so that she was perfectly prepared for the auditions.

Ruby loved acting. She loved disappearing into a character and pretending to be someone else. She loved the way it took you out of your own life and into someone else’s. Drama was by miles her favourite class and the only one she was good at.

She’d got a major role in the fourth-class production of The Lion King last year and somehow was able to remember all her lines, even though there were loads of them. She was also quite a good singer. Amber was a better singer, but she was a rubbish actress, so Ruby had got the role of Nala in the play and it was amazing.

The costumes were incredible. She had really looked like a lioness. Orla had helped her do her make-up, which was a miracle.

She’d told her mum and dad a million times about the date it was on and they swore they would come. ‘Nothing will stop us,’ they had said.

But then Robbie had got pneumonia and they’d had to go to hospital with him and they hadn’t seen her. Orla had videoed some of it on her phone, but it was rubbish and when Mum and Dad had watched it and tried to be all positive about it Ruby had wanted to cry. They hadn’t seen her starring on her big night. They’d missed it. They missed everything and it was always because of Robbie.

Ruby wasn’t going to get her hopes up this year; there was no point. Her parents would promise to come and then not turn up, or they would turn up and then fall asleep, like they had when she was in third class at the Christmas carols. Her dad had actually snored his way through. It was so embarrassing.

Safa looked over at Ruby. ‘I hope you get the main part,’ she whispered.

Ruby reddened. ‘Oh, I probably won’t, but thanks.’

It was Ruby’s last official day minding Safa. One full week was over. It hadn’t been that bad, actually. Safa was OK. A bit serious and way too into her schoolwork, but she was nice and she hadn’t stolen any of Ruby’s things.

Denise and Clara liked her too. Clara asked a lot of questions, though. Ruby could see that sometimes Safa didn’t want to talk about the war in Syria and what it was like to be a refugee. But Clara was relentless. She’d obviously been going home and talking to her mum about it and then Googling facts and coming back into school with more complicated questions.

At lunchtime, they sat together, and Clara started again. ‘So I read that since March 2011, fighting in Syria has killed half a million people, injured more than one million, and forced over twelve million people from their homes.’ Clara sounded like Wikipedia when she came out with her facts and figures. Ruby didn’t know how she remembered it all. She obviously had a big melon-sized brain and Ruby had a small pea-sized brain.

‘Twelve million? That’s like three times the population of Ireland!’ Denise was shocked.

‘Are any of your cousins or friends from home living in Ireland?’ Clara asked.

Safa shook her head.

‘None?’ Clara insisted.

‘Stop asking,’ Denise hissed. ‘Maybe they’re D – E – A – D.’

‘Safa can spell,’ Ruby snapped.

‘Sorry,’ Denise said, looking embarrassed.

‘It’s OK,’ said Safa. ‘Some of my family were killed, an uncle and aunt and three cousins. Also, my grandparents on my father’s side.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ Ruby said.

‘Me too,’ Denise said.

‘Me three,’ Clara said. ‘But you’re safe here. Ireland is a very peaceful country.’

‘Hopefully your dad will get here soon,’ Denise said.

‘I hope so. We’re still waiting for him to get his papers.’

‘I hope he gets them soon,’ Ruby said. She felt a bit sick looking at Safa’s sad face. Safa tried to smile but Ruby could see the memories of home and of her father hurt her. She decided to change the subject. ‘Orla has a big date today.’

‘With who?’ Denise asked.

‘Some guy called Conor Levy in St Gabriel’s school.’

‘OMG!’ Denise exclaimed. ‘He’s in my brother David’s class. He’s, like, a total football star. Apparently, every girl in town likes him.’

Ruby sighed. ‘Well she’s hyper about it. She got up at half six this morning to wash and curl her hair and put on her make-up and she made me do her fake tan last night.’

In fact, Orla had come down the stairs humming. Dad had looked shocked. ‘Is she sick?’ he asked Ruby.

‘No, she’s got a date.’

‘I knew something was going on – she’s never in a good mood!’

Orla came into the kitchen.

‘I hear you have a date,’ Dad said.

Orla spun around. ‘Ruby!’

‘What? He asked me why you were in a good mood.’

‘So who’s the lucky boy, then? Does he have any idea what he’s in for?’

‘Very funny, Dad. I’m not telling you his name because you’ll just start all that – “I think I know his dad, he used to play football with me,” or “I knew his mother’s cousin ... blah blah blah.”’

‘I’d like to know the name of the boy who is taking you out.’

‘He’s not taking me out, we’re just meeting up after school. Jeez, don’t make a big deal out of it.’

Dad picked up his glasses and peered at Orla. ‘If you don’t mind my saying, love, you’ve gone a bit overboard with the tan and the make-up. You look like you’ve rolled in mud and then stuck spiders on your eyelids.’

Orla glared at him. Ruby tried not to laugh.

‘Dad, you are the last person in the world I would take fashion advice from. Ever.’ Orla stormed out of the kitchen and went to put on even more make-up.

‘She looks ridiculous. I presume Mrs Oliver will go mad when she sees her arriving into school with all that muck on her face,’ Dad said.

‘I think she tries to stop them but all the older girls wear make-up now. They get notes from their parents saying they have to wear it because they have spots and the spots make them depressed and they need make-up to cover up.’

‘Are you serious?’ Dad was shocked.

‘Yep.’ Ruby shovelled a spoon of cornflakes into her mouth. ‘Orla told me.’

‘But she doesn’t have a letter, so I presume she’ll get told to take it off,’ Dad said.

Ruby filled her mouth with cornflakes, so she didn’t have to answer. She knew Orla had faked a letter from her parents saying she needed to wear make-up because of her spots, even though Orla barely had any spots. Mum and Dad were so taken up with Robbie that they didn’t really keep up with what was going on with Orla at all.

By the time Ruby had finished chewing her mouthful of cornflakes, Dad was asleep at the table. All these extra shifts he was working were wearing him out.

Ruby was worried about him. She was worried he’d fall asleep at the wheel and crash the taxi.

Clara crunched her apple loudly, while Denise bit into her second ham and cheese roll.

‘Did this boy not come to your house to ask your parents’ permission to take Orla out and show commitment?’ Safa asked.

Ruby, Denise and Clara burst out laughing.

‘Come to our house? No way. Are you mad?’ Ruby said.

‘Commitment? You only commit when you want to get married,’ Denise said.

‘In my country a boy has to come to ask the parents before a girl can go out with him alone. They have to show commitment.’

‘Orla would rather die than have a boy come to our madhouse,’ Ruby said.

‘My brothers would never go and talk to a girl’s parents before asking her out. That would be, like, way too serious,’ Denise laughed.

Safa shrugged. ‘I think it shows that they care.’

‘Look,’ Clara raised her hands. ‘Safa comes from a different culture and we should respect that.’

Ruby was getting a bit sick of Clara’s lectures on Syria and Safa’s culture. ‘We know Safa comes from Syria and they do things differently. It’s just weird, that’s all.’

‘Well she probably thinks the fact that Orla goes out with loads of boys is weird,’ said Clara.

‘Orla doesn’t go out with loads of boys. She’s only had a few boyfriends.’ Ruby defended her sister. She didn’t like Clara being all judgemental.

‘Different strokes for different folks,’ Denise said. ‘That’s what my mum always says. Come on, let’s play football. Safa, will you go in goal?’

Safa and Denise walked over to the playing field. Ruby and Clara walked behind them.

‘I didn’t mean to slag Orla. I was just saying.’

‘Well, it didn’t sound very nice.’

‘Sorry,’ Clara said.

‘It’s OK.’

Clara bit down on her thumbnail. It was bitten down to the skin. Ruby thought it was strange. Clara seemed so strong and confident, but she bit her nails, which was a sign of nerves. Ruby’s mum said that sometimes even people who seemed confident weren’t. She also reminded Ruby how hard it was on Clara to have never known her dad and that it was something that Clara probably thought about, and was sad about, a lot.

Ruby, herself, had been thinking about something a lot, and now she had the opportunity to talk to Clara about it alone. ‘You know the way your mum is really intelligent?’

‘Yes?’ Clara chewed her nail.

‘Well, do you think she might be able to help get Safa’s dad to Ireland so he can live here with her?’

Clara took her thumb out of her mouth. ‘My mum is a lawyer for people setting up businesses and stuff. She doesn’t do refugee papers and visas and all that kind of thing.’

‘Oh, I thought lawyers could do anything that was to do with the law and government and stuff.’

‘No, different lawyers do different things.’

Ruby’s shoulders drooped. ‘Oh well, maybe her dad will get here soon.’

‘I could ask my mum, though. She might know who in the government deals with refugees and visas and all that.’

‘Will you?’

‘Sure.’

‘That would be great.’ Ruby watched as Denise pelted the ball towards the goal. Safa dived sideways and saved it.

Ruby cheered. Safa looked over and smiled, a real smile. Ruby felt warm inside. Even though it had only been a week, Safa was beginning to feel like a friend.