Notes

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It was that morning that the last official fight happened. It was that day that Paula didn't get all the details when she asked how Ruby was doing that morning on the way to school and when she asked again, Ruby had only told her, "I'm not waiting anymore. I'm happening right now. That's all you need to know."

Paula gave her a funny look and turned into Mr Grober's physics class. 

During fifth period, Ruby zoned out a documentary about the Cold War and pulled out her wide-ruled notebook. She began in large, block letters:

I don't think this is working out for you, and it definitely isn't for me. That's why I've decided

She flipped to the next page and tried again:

I'm not even sure why I'm writing this to you, but

Ruby began to write on the next page, starting over and over and over again:

Sorry, not sorry

I've thought this through carefully and

I know you think I'm wreck less and that this is a mistake, but I know that this isn't a mistake

I won't be back until you learn to accept me

Maybe I shouldn't even be leaving a note

No more Pop tart mornings or half-hearted, half-baked waffles, I'm moving on

Goodbye

Nothing that Ruby could come up with seemed sufficient for her needs. Briefly she considered the idea that Paula could phrase it, but the thought was fleeting. Well Paula, she added in her head, here's one story you won't have a heads up on, here's one story that you won't get the deets for, here's something to stump you and all the other little minds in this school. 

She left through the back door as the bell for sixth period rang. She knew that at this time Mother would be at Grandmother's this time of day, this time of week. The walk home from school was quick, with the sun beating down on her. Her backpack bumped gently against her back, her sports bag swung in her right hand, and her left hand held the notebook, with all the rejected notes. 

The front door was open and she walked in. Ruby poured her sports bag onto her neatly tucked bedspread (Mother must have been in there earlier) and dug through the pile, sorting out what she figured she would need. 

"I don't think I need anything else, do I?" She asked and no one answered. She picked up her notebook and tried again:

I don't think I'm taking much that you'll miss. But here's for your insurance claim anyways (how much do you think it's worth?)

2 pairs running shorts, 1 pair jeans, 2 tshirts, 1 patterned button up shirt, 1 pair flips flops, 1 pair running shoes, a sandwhich bag of quarters, 1 bottle nailpolish, 1 waterbottle, 1 box granola bars, 1 sweater, 1 sportsbag, $300 and me, Ruby "Dilemma" McNair.

Ruby tore the page out, crumpled it and tossed it into her trashbin.She zipped her sportsbag up again and walked to the kitchen. The house was still empty, just as she wanted. She placed her schoolbag by the door like she normally would after the school day. She grabbed a poptart from the freezer, last one, she thought. She fingered through her newly shortened hair, and took a deep breath. She tried writing another note.

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