One of Those Hideous Books Where the Mother Dies Read Online Free Page B

only been 24 hours, but it seems like light years. I just spent the entire morning trying to French braid my own hair. The results were
très
ugly. Trust me.
    What am I going to
do
without you? I’m suffering from a severe case of Post-traumatic Best Friend Withdrawal.
    Love,
    Lizzerella
    Dear Ruby,
    I walked past your house just now and saw a new family moving in. I told them to get the hell out of there. Not really. But I sure wanted to. It made everything seem so final. You’re not coming back, are you?
    Boo hoo hoo times a zillion,
    Lizzette
    Dear Ruby,
    I ran into Ray at the Gap this afternoon. He said he hasn’t been able to sleep since the day you left. Andhe
looks
it, too, poor guy. We commiserated about you being gone.
And
about the fact that school starts tomorrow. We won’t be able to tolerate it without you.
    Heart-brokenly yours,
    Lizzandra
    (President of the We Miss Ruby Club)

    Dear Lizard,
    School starts
here
tomorrow, too. Sophomore year is going to be unbearable without you and Ray. Whip said my school’s called Lakewood, and that it’s only a mile and a half away from here. He said it’s got a stellar reputation and that he had to pull some major strings to get me in. So I said, “What did you do? Autograph the dean’s butt?” At which point he acted like he was astonished, and asked, “How did you know?!” At least I
think
he was acting. I mean I
hope
he was acting. It’s hard to tell when that jerk’s acting and when he isn’t. I frankly don’t care if the school is stellar or not. As long as it gets me out of the mansion (you should see this place!) and away from
him
. His ego is bigger than the state of California. It’s too awful to even go
into
at the moment.
    Give Ray an utterly depressed hug for me.
    Miserably yours,
    Ruby
    P.S. Want to hear something deeply surreal? Cameron Diaz lives next door.

    Dear Mom,
    How are things in heaven? LOL. Is this like totally sick that I’m writing to you, or
what?
It’s not that I actually think your soul’s out there fluttering around in Cyberspace checking your e-mail or anything. I mean, I completely
get
that you will never, ever receive this. But I feel like writing to you anyway.
    I wish I
believed
in heaven. Because at least then I’d be able to picture you up there with your halo and your wings, flying around with all the other angels, doing good deeds, maybe even watching over me to make sure my life turns out okay. But I
don’t
believe in heaven. And mostly, when I try to picture you, all I can see is how grim you looked toward the end, just a pile of bones and see-through skin lying there on the bed.
    I hate it, Mom. I hate remembering you looking like that.
    I miss you so much. A zillion times more than I even miss Duffy and Lizzie and Ray put together.
    Love u 4 ever,
    Ruby

    Fifteen Minutes of Fame
    Just as I’m finishing up
writing that e-mail to my mother,
and I’m about to click off AOL
and drag my miserable bones to bed,
    something blinks
on the welcome screen
that catches my eye:
it’s a photo of Whip and me at the airport!
    The headline says:
WHIP’S WILD CHILD WINGS INTO L.A.
Whip is smiling.
Wild Child is
not
.
    My teeth are bared,
my hair’s in a frenzy,
and it looks like I’m trying
to claw the eyes out of one of the reporters.
    Like whoa …
This is
way
too weird for words.
I can’t even talk about it right now.
I’m going to bed.

    On Deaf (and Dumb) Ears
    I definitely don’t want
the kids at Lakewood to find out
who my father is.
    Which shouldn’t be too hard to pull off,
since
his
last name is Logan
and
mine
is Milliken.
    So
I tell Whip
that I want to walk myself to school.
    But he says,
“Oh, it’s no bother at all.
I’d be happy to drive you.”
    I tell Whip that I really wish he wouldn’t.
But he just says,
“Don’t be silly. I insist.”
    And swings open the door
of an