Ruby Lu Star of the Show Read online

  Also by Lenore Look

  Ruby Lu, Brave and True

  Ruby Lu, Empress of Everything

  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 © 2011 by Lenore Look

  Illustrations copyright © 2011 by Stef Choi

  All rights reserved, including the right of reproduction in whole or

  in part in any form.

  Atheneum Books for Young Readers is a registered trademark of

  Simon & Schuster, Inc.

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  or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  Book design by Lauren Rille

  The text for this book is set in Lomba Book.

  The illustrations for this book are rendered with pencil and shaded digitally.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  0111 FFG

  First Edition

  10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Look, Lenore.

  Ruby Lu, star of the show / Lenore Look; illustrated by Stef Choi. — 1st ed.

  p. cm.

  Summary: Ruby Lu’s father loses his job on her first day of third grade,

  which causes many things in her life to change, and she is willing to do a lot

  to help out but giving up some things seems impossible.

  ISBN 978-1-4169-1775-5 (hc)

  [1. Unemployment—Fiction. 2. Conduct of life—Fiction. 3. Family life—Fiction.

  4. Schools—Fiction. 5. Dogs—Fiction. 6. Chinese Americans—Fiction.] I. Choi, Stef, ill.

  II. Title.

  PZ7.L8682Ruk 2012

  [Fic]—dc22

  2010009927

  ISBN 978-1-4169-1775-5

  ISBN 978-1-4424-2040-3 (eBook)

  To Charity and Madison,

  the brightest stars in my sky

  —L. L.

  To Tony,

  my sunshine

  —S. C.

  “These dark days will be worth all they cost us

  if they teach us that our true destiny is not

  to be ministered unto but to minister to ourselves

  and to our fellow men.”

  —Franklin D. Roosevelt,

  First Inaugural Address, March 4, 1933

  “Isn’t it funny that something as bright as a star

  spends all its time in the dark?”

  —JonArno Lawson,

  Poet Extraordinaire of Canada, July 28, 2010

  CHAPTER ONE

  The Best Thing About Third Grade

  The best thing about third grade was absolutely everything.

  “Waffles with berries and extra whipped cream!” Ruby exclaimed. Ruby liked the breakfast.

  “Hooray!” exclaimed her cousin Flying Duck in Chinese Sign Language. Both girls wiggled their thumbs, which means “thank you” in CSL.

  Ruby’s dad wiggled his thumbs back. Unlike other days when he would rush off to work before anyone else made it downstairs, he was in the kitchen serving his Back-to-School Breakfast Special for the girls. It was a tradition that he had started when Ruby was in kindergarten.

  “The key to a good school year is a good breakfast,” said Ruby’s dad, slipping a waffle in front of her.

  “And the key to a good meeting with your boss,” added Ruby, giving her dad a wink, and digging right in.

  Ruby’s dad winked back. She could tell that he was impressed that she remembered that he had an important meeting with his boss. “Third graders sure know everything!” he said cheerfully.

  “And they eat pretty fast too,” said Ruby, gobbling down the last of her waffle.

  “Mee too!” said Oscar, stuffing his cheeks. Ruby laughed. He was her baby brother, and he was so silly and hungry all the time.

  “Take it easy,” Ruby said to Oscar. “You’re not going to school yet, you’re only going to day care.”

  Ruby’s mom, who usually stayed home with Oscar, was out with Flying Duck’s parents, helping them look for work. Flying Duck’s parents, who had recently moved from China, needed to find jobs, and Ruby’s mom, who was good at speaking Cantonese and English, was translating for them. So it was decided that Oscar, who was almost one, would go to day care three mornings a week.

  Ruby gave Oscar a kiss on the head. “You’ll have a great time!” she said, leaning carefully away from Oscar’s sticky high chair and even stickier hands.

  “Kissssssssss you,” said Oscar, blowing Ruby a kiss.

  Flying Duck also gave Oscar a kiss on the head, and Oscar, quick as a Venus flytrap, caught Flying Duck with a whipped-cream hug.

  Then Elvis, Ruby’s new dog, jumped up and covered Flying Duck with kisses, licking off the sweet, fluffy cream that Oscar had smeared on her.

  “Oh you silly dog,” said Ruby, throwing her arms around Elvis and rubbing her face into his fur. “I’m going to miss you today.”

  “Urrrrrr?” said Elvis. He was the best thing that happened to Ruby during the summer. One day he appeared on her doorstep, and by the end of the summer, she had adopted him. And now he was the absolute best thing about third grade. Ruby was looking forward to taking him to dog obedience school for the first time, after school. He was full-grown and had some unusual skills for a dog, such as yoga, riding a bicycle, and balancing plates and balls on his head, but obeying Ruby was not one of them. He had a mind and life of his own. He was always practicing his Down Dog position . . . or his Cobra . . . or his Spider. But he never came when called, or sat or begged or heeled like a normal dog. This was frustrating to Ruby, but she loved him just the same. His best skills, Ruby felt, were the most important ones—giving Ruby a listening ear whenever she needed it, and watching TV with her. He loved TV, especially animal shows, and so did Ruby. Nevertheless, she could hardly wait to train him to do some normal dog tricks.

  “Guess where we’re going after school today?” Ruby asked.

  Elvis looked at Ruby with round wet eyes.

  And Ruby looked at Elvis.

  “Owwwwwww,” moaned Elvis sadly. He seemed to say that he was going to miss Ruby terribly until she got home.

  Ruby swallowed.

  “Oh, I wish I could bring him to school with me,” she said, squeezing Elvis.

  “You’ll be taking him to dog school soon enough,” said Ruby’s dad.

  “Okay,” said Ruby, wiping a tear from her eye.

  Ruby threw her arms around her dad and gave him a kiss. “Bye, Daddy,” she said. “I love you.”

  “I love you too, Ruby,” he said, giving her a hug.

  Then she and Flying Duck hurried out of the house and down 20th Avenue South toward third grade.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A Cloud Drifted By That Looked Like a Dog

  Third grade was in the big kids’ hallway. Fourth and fifth graders, who looked as important as teenagers, brushed by Ruby on their way to class. Colorful posters covered the walls, inviting students to all the clubs.

  Ruby could hardly wait to join them all.

  Ruby liked her new classroom. An alphabet banner circled the top of the room in cursive letters. A fish tank bubbled in the corner. The floor was as shiny as ice. And lo and behold, Ruby’s name was on her desk—in cursive!

  Ruby slipped right in. It was bigger than a second-grade desk, Ruby thought, and definitely much bigger than a kindergarten desk. A bigger desk meant Ruby was bigger. And she was. She was now the height of one upright vacuum cleaner.

  Ruby thought about all the exciting things that third graders got to do. You learned to play the recorder. You could join the third-grade recorder orchestra. You could get a job helping in the library, or passing out milk in the cafeteria. You could even become famous if you won the Third-Grade Haiku Competition at the end of the year. Everyone was looking forward to it. There was a ceremony and prizes. Best of all, there was applause. Ruby loved applause.

  But that was not all.

  Ruby was looking forward, most of all, to learning Spanish. A Mexican family had moved into the neighborhood, and their son, Panchito, was a bit ornery. He didn’t like anything or anyone. He didn’t like school. He didn’t like basketball. He didn’t even like candy. He never went into Fred’s candy store, but stood outside every day after school while everyone else went in. He spoke English, but he spoke Spanish better. Ruby thought that if she learned a little Spanish, she could help him feel more at home.

  “Hola,” Ruby said, saying hello in Spanish, as she swung her feet under her desk. A few heads turned. Ruby had tried to teach herself Spanish from her father’s CD, Teach Yourself Spanish in Twenty-five Easy Lessons. But it wasn’t easy. The rest of the CD was moong-chacha, which in Chinese means confusing, not clear, or fuzzy in the head.

  “Moong-cha-cha,” Ruby
whispered. A few more heads turned. Mr. Yu, a new teacher, was taking attendance and smiled just a little in Ruby’s direction.

  Ruby sat as straight as a chopstick at her desk. She had always wanted to be a teacher’s pet, and she knew that teachers were easily impressed by good posture. Indeed, Mr. Yu called on Ruby next.

  “Ruby Lu,” Mr. Yu called, looking straight at Ruby.

  Ruby sprang from her seat. “Present!” she cried, just as she had planned. She had decided that “present” would sound more third-grade than “here,” which she had used since kindergarten.

  A titter went through the class.

  Ruby ignored it and sat down.

  “Are you a polyglot?” Mr. Yu asked.

  “Polly?” said Ruby. “I’m not Polly. I’m Ruby Lu.”

  Mr. Yu smiled. He turned and spelled P-O-L-Y-G-L-O-T on the board. “A polyglot is someone who speaks many languages,” he explained. “Polyglots can be very useful in helping us understand different cultures.”

  The class was hushed. All eyes were on Ruby. This made Ruby sit as tall as a Seafair Queen going by on a parade float, and smile like one, too.

  For a new teacher, Mr. Yu was okay. Ruby decided that she liked him. He seemed to know a lot. But he couldn’t possibly know much about Ruby’s school yet, so she decided that she would try to be as helpful as possible.

  “My cousin Flying Duck is from China,” said Ruby, pointing to Flying Duck, who was sitting next to her. “She’s a polyglot too. She’s deaf, so she can lip-read and use Chinese Sign Language, and she’s learning American Sign Language.”

  Flying Duck smiled and saluted Mr. Yu with her right hand bouncing off her right eyebrow.

  “That’s ‘hello’ in Chinese Sign Language,” Ruby said helpfully.

  “Wow,” said Mr. Yu.

  “Yup,” said Ruby. “And I’m going to be a third-grade teacher when I grow up.”

  “That’s great,” said Mr. Yu, smiling at Ruby and saluting Flying Duck back.

  Ruby beamed. From the PTA newsletter that Ruby’s mom had read, Ruby knew that Mr. Yu was fresh out of teacher school. His hobbies included stamp collecting and trout fishing.

  “One of the most exciting things about third grade is learning to become better communicators,” said Mr. Yu. “Learning to speak a second language and being able to express yourself in different ways are very important.”

  Ruby sighed. She looked out the window. A cloud drifted by that looked like a dog. She thought about all the ways that she communicated with Elvis.

  Then she sighed again.

  She really missed being with her dog.

  Ruby stared at the clock above the door. She counted the circles the long hand would have to make before she could walk through that door and go to dog obedience school. Six. Plus one more hour before obedience school started at four. Seven long hours.

  Maybe Elvis was lonely, Ruby thought.

  “One of the oldest ways of expressing ourselves is by writing haiku,” said Mr. Yu.

  Did he say hiking? Ruby didn’t hear everything Mr. Yu was saying. Her teacher probably liked hiking, just like her dad, she thought. But Ruby didn’t like hiking. It made her hungry and tired. But she did like show-and-tell. Hey, what happened to show-and-tell?

  Ruby’s hand shot up.

  “Yes, Ruby?” said Mr. Yu, stopping in midsentence.

  “Usually we do show-and-tell first,” said Ruby helpfully. “I really don’t want to do any hiking.”

  The class burst into laughter.

  “We’re doing haiku, not hiking,” said Mr. Yu.

  Oops.

  “It’s a very old form of Japanese poetry,” Mr. Yu explained. “But you don’t have to be Japanese or old to write it.

  “We write haiku when it’s hard to say how we’re feeling,” Mr. Yu continued. “A haiku shows what happened at the moment you had those feelings, so that your reader can have similar feelings of their own.”

  Then Mr. Yu wrote something on the board. He said it was a famous haiku.

  Giant firefly:

  That way, this way, that way, this—

  And it passes by.

  Ruby liked fireflies. For a moment it felt like a warm summer night.

  She raised her hand.

  “Are we going to have show-and-tell?” she asked impatiently. “We always have show-and-tell.”

  Mr. Yu blinked. He looked at Ruby.

  And Ruby looked slowly around. Something told her that show-and-tell was not part of the third-grade program.

  “Ruby,” said Mr. Yu, “would you like to help me write the haiku rules on the board?”

  “Okay!” said Ruby, though she wasn’t really okay without show-and-tell. But she did like writing on the board. “Hi koo Haiku rules,” she wrote. Then she wrote the rest just as Mr. Yu told it to her:

  Then Ruby marched back to her seat. From her desk, she admired the fancy loops and extra curlicues that she had added to the tops and bottoms of her letters to make them look like cursive. But no one else seemed to notice. Everyone else was bent like question marks over their haiku.

  Ruby was the only one who was as straight as an exclamation point. She couldn’t think of anything to write. All she could think of was Elvis.

  Elvis was without Ruby for the first time.

  He was home alone.

  What if Elvis got sick?!!!

  Ruby swallowed. Elvis could get very sick. He had a habit of eating socks and underwear. What if he choked?

  Ruby raised her hand again.

  “Yes?” said Mr. Yu.

  “IT’S MY FIRST TIME AWAY FROM MY DOG,” Ruby blurted. “AND TO BE PERFECTLY HONEST, I’M NOT FEELING THAT GREAT.”

  Heads lifted. Pencils stopped.

  Mr. Yu blinked rapidly. His mouth opened, but nothing came out.

  “ACTUALLY, I THINK I NEED TO GO HOME,” Ruby said, climbing out of her desk and heading straight for the door.

  “Wait,” said Mr. Yu.

  Ruby stopped. She clutched her chest. She took a deep breath.

  “You’re having the perfect haiku moment,” Mr. Yu added. “Why don’t you write about missing your dog?”

  “Really?” asked Ruby.

  Mr. Yu nodded.

  “But what if he dies while I’m writing about him?” Ruby asked.

  “Dies?” said Mr. Yu.

  “He could be choking to death right this minute!” said Ruby. “I need to go home and make sure that he’s okay.”

  Mr. Yu did a deep knee bend. He looked Ruby smack in the eye.

  “I got my first dog when I was your age,” he said. “I worried about him too, until I realized that he was very smart. Dogs can take care of themselves. In fact, most of them are good at guarding your house, too.”

  Silence.

  “I forgot,” said Ruby. Her dad had said something about Elvis making a good guard dog.

  So Ruby returned to her seat.

  It was very quiet. Everyone was scratching away at their haiku. Everyone, that is, except Ruby. She stared at the tip of her pencil where words usually come out. But no words came out. She twisted one pigtail. Then she twisted the other. Still, no words came out.

  Writing a haiku was like putting together a jigsaw puzzle, Ruby thought. Instead of a thousand little pieces, there were a million little feelings.

  Worse, there were a million little words to describe those feelings.

  Ruby swung her feet. Did Mr. Yu say something about counting syllables?

  “What’s a syllable?” Ruby whispered.

  But it was too late.

  “Who would like to read their haiku first?” asked Mr. Yu.

  Christina’s hand shot up. She had moved to Ruby’s neighborhood from California. She wasn’t like the rest of the children on Beacon Hill. She wore SPF 60 every day, and she knew all about the La Brea Tar Pits. She marched to the front of the room. She read:

  “September morning

  I walk to school in new shoes

  Thoughts of toes in sand.”

  Mr. Yu beamed. “Excellent, Christina!”

  Ruby shrank.

  Then Tiger’s hand went up.

  Tiger ran to the front of the room and waved his paper excitedly. Breathlessly he read:

  “Fire trucks are red

  Screaming, roaring, rushing red

  Putting out fire’s bed.”

  “Fantastic, James!” said Mr. Yu, using Tiger’s real name. “That’s marvelous!”