seeing ruby red

She’s in fifth grade and I’m in second grade but we’ve been best friends since we got left behind in the pick-up line together last year. I wave to her as I run out of the classroom, but she doesn’t see me until I’m almost halfway to her and then she waves back. The fifth graders get out for recess ten minutes before I do so she always runs to get dibs on the spinny thing so we can play on it together.

Our school is awesome. I’ve never even seen another school that has a spinny thing on its playground. It’s not a carousel and it’s not a swing either but it’s the best thing ever.

Ruby’s name fits her because she has bright red hair and it’s not even dyed. She says she wants to dye it when she’s in high school but that her mom is super strict and won’t let her do it. Her mom won’t let her have sleepovers with me either. I don’t like her mom very much. I’ve never had a sleepover before but I really want to. 

“Class was fun,” I tell her after we’re done with our secret handshake.

“What are you studying, addition?” she asks. I already know how to do addition but I think she’s joking.

“No, we’re reading Island of the Blue Dolphins.”

“I hated that book,” she says. I kind of like it but that’s okay. I think if I were on an island I would rather have cats than dogs but other than that I think it’s a good book. Ruby doesn’t like reading the same way I do but she’s way better at coming up with fun stuff to do on the weekends.

She gets off the spinny thing and laughs because she’s so dizzy and then it’s my turn! The spinny thing is the most popular thing at recess so usually only the fifth graders go on it. I love being friends with Ruby. 

“Look at my hair,” she says. It’s in two braids that fall down her back. “Emma did it for me this morning.” 

Emma is Ruby’s older sister who’s already in high school and plays the violin. Last summer she drove us to the pool on Saturdays. She has awesome snacks like Oreos and Fruit-By-The-Foot in her car and she lets me eat them when we ride with her. She also plays her music really loud and she and Ruby know all the lyrics to all the songs on the radio.

“I wish I had red hair,” I tell her. My grandma says my hair is dishwater blonde and I only know how to put it in a ponytail. Ruby taught me how to pull the two front strands out so it looks prettier but sometimes the hair falls in my face so I only do that every once in a while.

“Ugh, it’s so annoying,” she says. “All the boys keep calling me Carrot Top. They’re so immature.” 

“I hate boys,” I say, which is true. The only boy who’s nice to me is Owen and Ruby says he’s weird so I try not to talk to him. 

“I don’t hate boys,” Ruby says. “I just hate fifth grade boys. I wish they’d grow up.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Totally.”

“Can you believe I’m going to be in middle school?” she asks. “Only one more month until I’m done with this place forever.”

“Wow,” I say. “What’s middle school like?” This is kind of a silly question because she isn’t even a middle schooler yet. But I’m curious anyway.

It’ll be three more years until I’m in middle school too, which is the same amount of time it’s been since I was in preschool, and preschool was AGES ago. When I was in preschool I still liked the color pink, and now my favorite color is blue. Ruby doesn’t like pink either but her favorite color is purple. She says pink is a baby color even though sometimes my mom wears pink and my mom isn’t a baby.

“Middle school is going to be so awesome,” she says. “It’s so much bigger. And I won’t have to have just one teacher anymore. And there’s no rule against phones.”

Phones aren’t allowed at our school. I don’t have a phone so I don’t really care because our school has a spinny thing, and a rock wall, and our art teacher is Ms. Affoleck and she’s the nicest. So I think our school is pretty awesome anyway. Ruby has a phone and she’s always complaining that she’s not allowed to have it. We took selfies at the pool last summer with her phone and my mom helped me print them out and put them up on my wall.

“Wow,” I say again. “Is the library bigger?”

She rolls her eyes. “Of course the library is bigger. But I don’t want to go to the library, no offense.”

“I was just wondering. For when I go to middle school.”

“You’re not even going to middle school until I’m at high school.”

I do the math in my head. My teacher says I’m good at mental math, so it doesn’t take me very long. Ruby’s right. I didn’t realize that we wouldn’t even get to be in middle school together. 

“Will there be more homework?”

“Probably,” she says. “Cause I’ve got more teachers. That’s going to be the boring part. But all the people from all the other elementary schools will be there.”

“Do they have a spinny thing?” I ask, hopping off so that she can have a turn.

She looks at me, confused. “They don’t have playgrounds at middle school,” she says.

“Yes they do,” I say, because my dad drives by the middle school sometimes and I’m pretty sure I’ve seen a playground out the car window.

“No they don’t,” she says. “And even if they did, nobody would play on them. You’re not supposed to play on the playground anymore in middle school.”

“Oh.” I think about it. “What are you supposed to do?”

“Talk,” she says, like it’s obvious. “About boys and stuff.”

“But I’m not gonna be there,” I say. “Who are you gonna talk to?”

“I’ll make new middle school friends,” she says. “And anyway, you and I aren’t even going to be friends anymore.” Her braids whip around her face as she kicks off the ground, spinning faster and faster.

“We aren’t gonna?”

“No. Have you ever seen a middle schooler who’s best friends with a third grader?”

“No.” I don’t mention that I’ve never seen a fifth grader who’s best friends with a second grader either but here we are. “Are we still friends right now?”

“Yeah. I’m not a middle schooler yet, am I?” 

“I guess not.”

“And we can still hang out this summer.”

“Okay,” I say. “Can we still go to the pool together?”

“Obviously. But only this summer.”

The bell rings which means I get ten more minutes but she has to go inside. She waves goodbye and runs off to her fifth grade class. I watch her go. She’s wearing a purple sweater which is a lot cooler than the t-shirt I’m wearing that I got at the zoo. And she’s smiling.

I push off the ground and spin as fast as I can. When I get off I can’t walk in a straight line anymore and I don’t even know which direction she went. I don’t care what direction she went.