Ruby Lu, Empress of Everything Read online

  RUBY LU, EMPRESS of EVERYTHING

  Also by Lenore Look and Anne Wilsdorf

  Ruby Lu, Brave and True

  RUBY LU, EMPRESS of EVERYTHING

  Lenore Look

  Illustrated by

  Anne Wilsdorf

  Atheneum Books for Young Readers

  New York London Toronto Sydney

  Atheneum Books for Young Readers

  An imprint of Simon & Schuster Children’s Publishing Division

  1230 Avenue of the Americas

  New York, New York 10020

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Text copyright © 2006 by Lenore Look

  Illustrations copyright © 2006 by Anne Wilsdorf

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form.

  Book design by Kristin Smith

  The text for this book is set in Lomba.

  The illustrations for this book are rendered in ink.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Look, Lenore.

  Ruby Lu, empress of everything / Lenore Look ; illustrated by Anne Wilsdorf

  p. cm.

  Summary: After Ruby Lu’s deaf cousin, Flying Duck, and her parents come from China to live with her, Ruby finds life challenging as she adjusts to her new family, tries to mend her rocky relationship with her friend Emma, and faces various adventures in summer school

  ISBN-13: 978-0-689-86460-5

  ISBN-10: 0-689-86460-4

  eISBN 978-1-439-10733-1

  [1. Friendship—Fiction. 2. Immigrants—Fiction. 3. Chinese Americans—Fiction. 4. Deaf—Fiction. 5. People with disabilities—Fiction.]

  I. Wilsdorf, Anne, ill. II. Title.

  PZ7.L8682Rub 2006

  [Fic]—dc22

  2005014097

  To Madison, my first and best reader

  —L. L.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Writing a second book to follow a first book is harder than it looks.

  First you have to remember what happened in the first book.

  Then you have to think of new, and preferably more harrowing, adventures.

  Then you have to convince yourself that you want to write a second book instead of living these adventures.

  Because once you’ve decided to write a second book, it requires what the first book required: sitting at your lonely desk for long, lonely hours each day, checking your e-mail every second. So it helps to have people in your life, like:

  REBECCA SHERMAN, my agent’s astute assistant, who gave my first draft a scorching first read, which kept me from writing a sequel to a book that doesn’t yet exist.

  SUSAN COHEN, my wonderful agent, who took Rebecca’s side and also took care of everything else.

  ANNE SCHWARTZ, my marvelous editor, who loved Ruby from the start and somehow convinced me that sitting still can be the biggest adventure of my life.

  ANN KELLEY, her very smart assistant, who took over the editing of Ruby and should be given an award for her patience, humor, and perseverance.

  ANNE WILSDORF, whom I’ve never met, but who is able to see exactly what I see, halfway around the world from me.

  DIETRICH TSCHANZ, who found the only copy of a pictorial Chinese Sign Language dictionary in New Jersey and risked all sorts of library fines by sending it to me.

  CHRIS BURANS, 9-1-1 operator #151 in Randolph, New Jersey, who helps people in need, and repeated the 9-1-1 response to me until I got it right.

  RAYMOND CONNERS, little man extraordinaire, who stuck magnets up his nose with great aplomb … and survived.

  Thank you all.

  —L. L.

  RUBY LU, EMPRESS of EVERYTHING

  The Best Thing About Immigration

  The best thing about having a cousin come from another country to live with you is everything.

  Ruby liked the parties. When Flying Duck and her parents emigrated from China to Ruby’s house, there was one celebration after another. Every day felt like a birthday.

  Ruby liked the noise and excitement. Before she got up in the morning, she could hear grown-ups talking in the kitchen. The telephone rang all the time. The doorbell worked overtime. Everyone wanted to meet the newcomers.

  Ruby liked being a tour guide. Flying Duck and her parents had come from a small rural village. Everything in their new American city was strange and fascinating, especially the places on Ruby’s tours. They. loved to pose with many ordinary things that they thought were extraordinary. Like ferries. And seagulls. GungGung’s car. A parking meter. A meter maid. A meter maid scribbling in her notebook. The convict-orange parking ticket on GungGung’s windshield! Ruby snapped a hundred pictures.

  Ruby liked her uncle. He was an expert bike rider, just like Ruby. Once he carried a giant refrigerator on his bicycle. And he had the photo to prove it.

  Ruby liked her aunt. She was a mah-jongg master before she became an immigrant. Ruby loved mah-jongg. It was like playing cards, only noisier. And it was very addictive.

  “The best way to get to know someone is to live with them and play mah-jongg with them,” she told Ruby in Cantonese. Every evening she’d put on a little Chinese music. And serve up a bowl of pumpkin seeds. Then they’d play mah-jongg.

  Ruby liked the buddy system. Ruby was Flying Duck’s Smile Buddy at school. Smile Buddies were responsible for helping a new student feel welcome. Smile Buddies were friendly and loyal and helpful. They were courteous, kind, and cheerful. They knew the times of lunch and recess and the locations of the bathrooms. They introduced you around. They made everything less scary. Ruby had waited her whole life to be a Smile Buddy.

  SMILE BUDDY, said the big, bright yellow grin pin on Ruby’s sweater. Ruby wore it every day. She was now as important as a crossing guard. And she adjusted it often, just to make sure it was still there.

  Show-and-tell improved quite a bit. For nine days straight, Ruby showed UtterPrincess, a hyperaction heroine from China that was a gift from Flying Duck. Ruby carried UtterPrincess with her wherever she went, and in her original box to keep her pristine forever.

  “UtterPrincess!” Ruby would say, holding up her box so that everyone could see the doll through the plastic window. Ruby turned it this way and that, as if she were holding up a gem and showing off every facet.

  “She swims and speed-reads and speaks five languages,” Ruby liked to say. But most important of all, UtterPrincess looked like Ruby and Ruby looked like UtterPrincess.

  Soccer improved quite a bit too. It was kiddie soccer, so there was no uniform. You could wear whatever you wanted. Usually everyone tried to look like a soccer player in shorts and a T-shirt. But not Flying Duck. She put on her pink socks, pink sneakers, pink shorts, pink shirt, pink belt, pink pinky ring, and a pink headband with very large pink flowers that jiggled when she ran. Boop, boop, boop. It was Flying Duck’s favorite outfit, and she always felt better when she wore it.

  Why didn’t Ruby think of that? Inspired, Ruby pulled on her green frog-leg tights, green glow-in-the-dark-see-you-a-hundred-miles-away sweater with asparagus-stalk arms and matching asparagus tips on the head that also jiggled when she ran, but not too much. Woomp, woomp, woomp. Wow. Ruby once hated soccer. But now she loved it, loved it, loved it.

  But the absolute best thing about immigration was Flying Duck herse
lf.

  Flying Duck was a source of endless fascination for Ruby and her friends on 20th Avenue South. In many ways she was more of a curiosity than even the 110-year-old mummified man at the World Famous Ye Olde Curiosity Shoppe, the best souvenir store in the whole world right there on the waterfront, a mere fifteen-minute drive from Ruby’s house. The mummy, next to the cabinet full of shrunken heads, had a bullet hole in his stomach still shiny with blood, but Flying Duck was an entire foreign country unto herself.

  She ate one-thousand-year-old eggs for breakfast.

  And one-hundred-year-old eggs for lunch.

  She could read backward from right to left.

  And hold her breath for forty-two seconds.

  And play mah-jongg past bedtime without falling asleep.

  But that was not all.

  She could ward off evil spirits up to one hundred feet with her special jade pendant.

  Even better than that, Flying Duck could do something nobody else on 20th Avenue South could do.

  She could lip-read.

  Lip-reading is a very useful skill. It comes in handy when you want to watch TV, but the TV is supposed to be turned off. And it comes in handy if you are outside looking in and your parents are inside talking about you.

  Flying Duck could speak and lip-read Cantonese. And because she had gone to English school in China, she also knew a little English.

  Flying Duck was lip-reading even before she went to the Taishan School for the Deaf, where she had learned another amazing thing: Chinese Sign Language.

  Flying Duck had been deaf for nearly half her life. When she was four years old, she fell off the roof of her house where she had gone to “inspect” the tasty peanuts that her mother was drying in the sun.

  “I burst my skull,” Flying Duck said in Cantonese. Then she signed it, tapping her head and making a burst of fireworks with outspread fingers behind her ears. Ruby’s neighborhood friends, Tiger, Christina, and Emma, did not understand Flying Duck. But Wally did. Wally was from Hong Kong, and he was fluent in Cantonese.

  “She burst her eardrums,” Wally translated.

  But the best part of the story … and Ruby knew exactly how to tell it … was …

  “The whole village thought she was dead.”

  Everyone gasped. It was the most exciting thing that had ever happened to anybody on 20th Avenue South.

  Ruby and her friends were quick to learn their first Chinese Sign Language: wiggle the thumb at the knuckle, it means “thank you.” It was easy now for even Oscar and Sam, the babies on the block, to remember their manners. They wiggled their thumbs at everything.

  Flying Duck was very pleased.

  And Ruby was very proud. Flying Duck was just perfect. Having a cousin from China who was deaf was as good as having a cousin who had a third eye in the middle of her forehead.

  Afternoon Crafts

  Ruby’s mother was very talented. She knew an ancient Chinese saying for nearly everything.

  “A wonder lasts but nine days,” she said, which is the same as saying that even the most interesting things get old—quickly.

  Ruby’s Snow Queen skates, which made her as slippery as jellyfish on a spoon, had lasted four days.

  Samurai Sumo Sidekick, which came with extra batteries, had lasted three.

  And Oscar, when he was born, as sweet as a red-bean dumpling, had lasted two.

  So it was a miracle that Flying Duck and the marvels of immigration lasted as long as they did.

  Then … nothing was right.

  First, there was the computer. Flying Duck always left it on the Chinese Internet. She loved playing mah-jongg online, and e-mailing her friends in Chinese. Ruby did not.

  Second, there was the Cantonese. With the exception of Ruby and Ruby’s father, who was a Chinese School FOB (Flunked Out Badly), nobody spoke English at home anymore. Home became a foreign country!

  Third, there was the toilet seat. Flying Duck would always leave it up. Chinese toilets require standing on the rim and squatting, which Ruby liked. But … Ruby’s favorite shoes were ruby slippers that twinkled like a million diamonds. And it was easy to forget to take them off before balancing on the toilet rim until … Aiyaaaaah! Splash!

  Fourth, there were the chopsticks. Flying Duck used them for everything. She ate her spaghetti with them. She could pick up a meatball without spearing it. She could even pick up … a pea. And then one day the forks disappeared altogether.

  “Good for Ruby to practice her chopstick skills,” Ruby’s mother announced.

  Fifth, there was Ruby’s baby brother, Oscar. He loved sign language. He was always wiggling his cute little thumbs at Flying Duck. His signing vocabulary soon included “more,” “eat,” “sleep,” “dog,” and “help.” He could sign more than he could speak, and it was more than Ruby could keep up with. So Flying Duck knew what Oscar needed before Ruby knew. It was not fair.

  Before Flying Duck arrived, Ruby’s father had told her that immigrants do many things differently. They eat different foods, dress differently, speak a different language, practice different habits. Different didn’t mean wrong. It just meant not the same.

  Ruby liked different.

  She even liked weird.

  But Ruby didn’t like having her life turned upside down.

  “Send her back,” Ruby cried one night. She ran into her mother’s arms and burst into tears. “I hate immigration!” Ruby sobbed.

  Ruby’s mother wrapped Ruby in her arms and gave her a kiss and brushed away her tears.

  “I know,” Ruby’s mother said. “Immigration is very scary. And you’ve been very brave.”

  Ruby’s mother was right. Ruby had been very brave. Every day there had been a new challenge. And every day Ruby had done her best to keep up with the program.

  “The worst is probably over,” Ruby’s mother said. “Everything will start to get easier. You’ll see.”

  Ruby’s mother was right. Immigration could hardly get more miserable.

  But it did.

  Afternoons after school were not the same. Ruby’s mother was not there for tea anymore. She was out helping Flying Duck’s parents find jobs. Without Ruby’s mother at home, PohPoh always had something for them to do.

  Crafts.

  Flying Duck made necklaces and earrings out of peanut shells. She folded origami. She cut kirigami. She made moon boots from coconut shells. She glued rice into mosaics. There wasn’t anything she couldn’t make with a few tooth-picks or chopsticks or Popsicle sticks.

  But Ruby was never good at crafts. And crafts were never good to Ruby. Opening a craft kit was like opening an umbrella on a blustery day. Ruby would always end up flipped inside out.

  And Oscar was never much help.

  “Bee,” Oscar slobbered. He couldn’t yet say Ruby, so he called her Bee. He loved his sister. He loved everything she made. And he drooled heavily over everything he loved.

  “Not intended for children under three,” Ruby warned him.

  They were making refrigerator magnets. Ruby read the instructions.

  “Swallowing hazard.” That meant Oscar could look, but not touch.

  “Use special markers to make design.

  “Insert design into plastic sleeve right side up.

  “Press front onto back.

  “Use hot glue gun to attach magnet.

  “Enjoy!”

  Ruby did not enjoy. She couldn’t get her artwork between the plastic. Press back onto front? Forget it. She could hardly tell up from down.

  “Wuv,” Oscar said, pressing his drooling wet face to the artwork that Ruby had just finished.

  “Oh no!” Ruby cried. She could read Oscar’s face. It said, “Smile Buddy.”

  The words “Smile Buddy” had come off on his cheek. Ruby was making a Smile Buddy magnet for their refrigerator.

  “Wuv you, Bee,” Oscar cooed. He was so happy. He loved afternoon crafts.

  “I love you too,” Ruby said, letting Oscar smother her with a wet ki
ss. She couldn’t resist.

  But her artwork was ruined. Ruby knew Oscar didn’t mean it. But the best part of her craft project now looked like washed lettuce, limp and a little dark in some places.

  Ruby never wanted to open another craft kit again.

  But Oscar did. He was like a little lobster when it came to crafts. He had just discovered that he could use his pointer fingers and thumbs like pincers. He could pick up just about anything and put it anywhere. He especially liked the teeny tiny hockey pucks that clicked together. He pulled them apart. They clicked together.

  “Bee, see!” he said, pinching one of the tiny pucks. But Bee did not see.

  It was small and round. And it fit perfectly … up his nose!

  “Ummp,” he said.

  “See, Eee!” he said, pinching another teeny puck. With a plugged nostril, he could no longer say his B. But Bee ignored him.

  Oscar smiled. He drooled. He pushed the second dark puck into his other nostril!

  Pak! The pucks clicked together inside Oscar’s nose.

  “Owwwwow!” he said, surprised. He drooled. He breathed through his mouth.

  “Help,” he signed to Flying Duck. “Help!”

  Flying Duck stopped. She looked at Oscar.

  “Help!” he signed again. “Help!”

  Ruby finally looked at Oscar. She looked him up and down. She turned him around.

  Then she looked up his nose. It was dark and mysterious. His nose was as hard as rocks. No one could quite tell what was up there. Whatever it was, it wouldn’t budge.

  “Call 9-1-1!” PohPoh cried.

  Ruby ran for the phone. She never imagined that crafts could be so exciting. She had always wanted to call 9-1-1.

  “9-1-1,” said the operator. “Where’s your emergency?”

  “In the dining room,” said Ruby. Her heart pounded in her ears. She could hardly hear herself. She was actually talking to the 9-1-1 operator! It was just like on TV!