Spring had sprung all around them, and her Pop's rosebushes had exploded in gorgeous, riotous color, though Ruthie couldn't enjoy them. The next few days were torture for Ruthie, pure and simple. She was sure no one had ever suffered this way.

"It was like him loving me, and me loving him, wove together into a warm blanket, you know?" she said to Amal Clooney as they snuggled on the couch after school one blustery April evening. "And I had the blanket around me, and it made me warm and happy, but I didn't know I was wearing it.

"And then he took it away."

Amal licked her mistress' face to show her sympathy, and thumped her tail a couple of times to show she understood, if not the actual words, at least the flood of emotions behind them.

For the first time in her life, Ruthie felt she had no humans she could talk to about her feelings and life. Linda was nice, but she wasn't always sympathetic about matters of the heart. "Suck it up and get on with it," would be her advice. Pepsi was full of sympathy, but was so scatterbrained that sometimes it felt like Ruthie was talking to a toddler. And for obvious reasons, Gordon was completely out of the question.

Before, it would've been Amelia that she poured her heart out to, but she'd seen Amelia and Elliott the next day, the day after her disastrous texting exchange with Elliott. They'd been standing quite close as they talked, and then Amelia had hugged him, hard and long, before finally releasing him so they could continue walking.

Ruthie didn't know if he was telling her how unhappy he was, or if he was asking her out on a date, and she didn't really care. The fact was that, at the very least, there was a burgeoning friendship between them, and for that reason alone she wasn't comfortable telling Amelia anything.

"You want to talk?" her pop had asked when she came home from school that first day, but for the first time in her life, Ruthie wasn't comfortable talking to either parent.

She'd just shaken her head and headed for the refrigerator.

News of their break up had spread like wildfire through school, and everyone seemed to know before first break, though Ruthie couldn't believe Elliott had told anyone.

She could somehow pretend Elliott didn't exist during the rest of her classes, acting like she didn't see the other girls hanging all over him as they talked, but it was impossible during drama class, which had become the unofficial start time for rehearsals for Les Mis.

The bell signaling the end of school became meaningless as everyone in the class was either onstage or backstage, working to get the show together.

Ruthie and Elliott had so many scenes together that she spent most of her afternoons looking at him yearningly, or dying in his arms, looking up into his beautiful eyes.

Life sucked, as she told Amal Clooney.

"Hey, Rosebud?" Even though she hadn't chosen to confide in them, her dads had been wonderful, making her favorite foods for dinner and cuddling with her every evening.

"Yeah?" Ruthie looked from Amal's kind brown eyes to her Pop's. He was holding a paper in his hand.

"Am I looking at this right? Your trip to New York is the week before your show?" He looked down at the paper, then back up at his daughter. "This can't be right, right? The week before the show is tech week, isn't it? Full costumes and run throughs?"

Ruthie nodded, displacing her dog and going to her father. The paper was a reminder about the trip, what to bring (jackets, gloves, photo ID) and what not to bring (alcohol, excess cash).

Ruthie looked at the dates.

No way.

"I don't think anyone noticed, you know? This trip's been planned since last year. Oh god, Pop, Ms. Piper's going to have an absolute cow."

"Like an entire cow?" her pop teased. "A holstein? Or one of those ginormous beef cattle?"

"Pop, this is serious!" Ruthie chastised. "Could the trip be changed?"

He shook his head. "I don't think so, sweetie, the tickets are all bought, hotel reservations, restaurants, it's all confirmed.

"Can the play performance dates be moved?" he asked.

Ruthie slowly shook her head. "I don't think so. We made the performances that week because a bunch of kids have FFA band stuff the next week. And the seniors have their Disneyland trip. Oh shit."

The next day brought confirmation of what Ruthie's pop had noticed.

Ms. Piper did not have a cow, as Ruthie had predicted.

"Well, guys, this is just one of those things, you know? We'll have to do run-throughs before New York, and we'll have one day for full dress the day after you come back," she said, running a hand through her wild red hair. "Normally I'd be worried, but all of you are so good this that I think we'll be ready."

She looked around at the worried faces of her cast and crew and smiled reassuringly. "Come on, guys, rise to the challenge! We'll be okay. At least Ruthie noticed the problem a month in advance, and not a week, or a day, right?"

Elliott glanced Ruthie's way and gave her a guarded smile which she didn't return. She couldn't, it hurt too much. She'd been looking forward to going to New York, a place Elliott had been to and knew, as his girlfriend, to walking up Fifth Avenue arm in arm, to seeing a Broadway play, to spring in Central Park as Elliott Banks' girlfriend.

"Maybe I won't go," she said in passing at lunch one day.

"What? Ruthie, come on, you've wanted to go to New York City since you were a toddler!" Pepsi's voice was shocked. "I still can't believe your dads never took you, you know? I mean, you've been to France lots of times, and Switzerland, and didn't you go to Egypt, too?"

Ruthie nodded. "Once, when I was really little. I remember thinking it looked like an Indiana Jones movie. We had plans to go to New York a couple of times, but they fell through. Like I got chicken pox two days before we were supposed to go, remember, Gordo?"

Gordon nodded, eyes glinting with amusement. "And you had the vaccine, too, poor thing," he said with a smile.

"I know, right?" Ruthie tried to sound happy and normal. "I cried so hard about missing that trip."

"Heads up, guys," Linda warned, and Ruthie knew that Elliott was somewhere behind her.

The foursome carried on eating, drinking and talking like nothing was amiss, and Ruthie was filled with gratitude toward her friends. She could tell from how big Pepsi's eyes were getting that Elliott was approaching. Ruthie just hoped he was alone.

"Ruthie, can I speak to you for a moment, please?" She heard Elliott's words a second or two before he appeared in her field of vision, walking around the table so he could look her in the eye. "In private, if you don't mind?"

Ruthie put her milk down. "There's nothing you have to say to me that can't be said in front of my friends," she told him. She'd actually wanted to say something like that her whole life, so she was marginally grateful to Elliott for providing her with the opportunity.

Elliott looked around the table and finally shrugged acquiescence.

"I just don't see why we can't be friends, and talk to each other," he said. "We're together most of the day in our classes, and then we're practically on top of each other during play practice."

He took a step closer.

"What do you say? Can't we at least be friends? I was so looking forward to showing you New York."

Ruthie found it touching and amusing in equal parts that he'd been thinking along similar lines as she herself had, even though they'd be with forty other kids.

She made herself keep from smiling with an effort, limiting her official response to a casual shrug.

"You're right, I guess. There's no reason we can't be friends."

The truth was that Ruthie was so desperate for his company that she'd take whatever she could get, though she would rather have died than say that to him. She could hear Linda sigh at her words, and knew her friend didn't think this was a good idea. She also felt Gordon's disappointment from where he sat next to her, and felt bad for him.

Elliott smiled, the beautiful smile that made the strength go out of Ruthie's spine, and she had to use all her willpower not to smile back at him.

"Ace," he said. "I'll see you around, then, yeah?" He looked around the table to include everyone in his last words.

Ruthie nodded, not trusting herself to speak.

After he left, Pepsi spoke, her voice cautiously low. "I heard that Joanna Barnes asked him to the Spring Fling, and he said he'd have to think about it. I also heard that what's her face with the hair was hanging all over him at the--"

"Pepsi, be quiet," Linda admonished, putting a warning hand on Pepsi's shoulder.

"I hope you guys don't mind that you were here for that," Ruthie began. "I mean, you are my friends, and we didn't say anything you couldn't hear, like I said--" her voice quavered, and Ruthie knew she was going to cry.

Unfortunately, Gordon was the one sitting next to her, so it was his shoulder she leaned into as tears overtook her.

"Oh shit, you guys, I'm so so-so-sorry," she blubbered, feeling he nose beginning to run as the tears really got going.

"Shh, it's okay," Gordon comforted, his voice soothing as he patted her shoulder.

"I just miss him so fucking much," Ruthie nearly wailed, shoulders shaking.

"I'm sorry I said that, about Joanna and the hair girl--Amy, that's her name, Amy Klingen-something," Pepsi crowed, happy to have remembered.

"Pepsi, Jesus," Linda said, shaking her head.

"It's okay, it's okay," Ruthie reassured them through her tears. "I thought I was all cried out, but I guess I had a few more in me." She sniffed and lifted her head from Gordon's shoulder.

"Do you think this means I can text him? Should I text him?" she asked her friends.

"I'd wait until he texts you first," Pepsi said with authority, finishing her drink and tossing the red, white and blue can into the nearby recycling bin.

Ruthie nodded her agreement and sighed when the lunch bell rang.

She patted around her eyes with a tissue before blowing her nose with it.

"How do I look?" she asked. "Can you tell I've been crying?"

Pepsi and Linda, lying valiantly, shook their heads.

"You look beautiful," Gordon told her sincerely, nodding for emphasis.

Ruthie looked around.

"Thanks, you guys," she said, tears threatening again. "You're all good friends, and I know how lucky I am to have you."

"As long as you acknowledge it, that's all we ask," Pepsi answered with her lopsided grin. "Come on, ya crybaby, let's get to class."