Elliott looked startled for a moment, and raised his eyes as he considered.
"Really?" he asked, looking at her. "You really want me to?"
"Yeah, sure, why not?" she responded as she shouldered her back pack.
"Well, you did just call me both an asshole and a wanker a minute ago," he reminded her.
"But I apologized for that," Ruthie said.
"Did you?"
"If I didn't, I'm doing it now," she said quickly. "I'm sorry for calling you both an asshole and a wanker.
"And," she added as inspiration struck her, "the AC is on at my house." She looked over at Elliott.
"Oh, you wouldn't tease a fellow, would you?" Elliott asked, eyes wide.
Ruthie shook her head. She had a feeling the Nicholsons were stingy with their AC, like most senior citizens.
"Plus, my house is right there, and your house is two blocks farther," Ruthie said, though she could tell the words were unnecessary.
"Sold, sold," Elliott said, holding his hands up.
One minute later Ruthie was letting them into her house, and introducing him to Clarence Darrow.
He asked if anyone else was home, and she explained about her parents and their working situation, and how normally Dad would be there.
She wondered as she was getting him a cold bottle of water why in the world she'd invited him to her house? He was so prickly and hard to talk to.
She pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and gestured to it as she rifled through the cupboards and got some crackers out to go with the cheese she found in the fridge. She cut up a couple of apples, got some grapes, and quickly assembled everything and set it out, then sat across from him.
The two of them ate in silence for a couple minutes, then Elliott broke the silence, telling Ruthie, "I should probably tell you that I overheard both of the arguments you had on your way home from school."
He met her eyes, and Ruthie could see no embarrassment or guilt; he was simply imparting a fact. "I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything, honest. I mean, we leave in the exact same direction, you know? So I was walking home, just a couple minutes behind you, and you started to argue with the girl, Amelia, is it? Yeah, Amelia, in the parking lot."
He grabbed an apple slice, spread some cheese on it, and took a bite before continuing to talk. "I kind of hung back, thinking I'd just wait until you were finished talking to her. It didn't seem like the conversation was going to last very long, you know?"
He grinned at her, and Ruthie saw that, as good looking as he was in repose, he was even better looking when he smiled.
Wow.
"So, you finished talking to her, and continued on your way, and then boom, as soon as you were on the other side of the overpass, the knobhead in the truck appears and I had to wait again, this time in the blazing sun, until the two of you were finished." He took a drink of water. "I thought you were gone on your way, you know? I had no idea you were ensnared in the purple tree--"
"Crepe myrtle," Ruthie supplied as she ate a cracker with cheese on it.
"Right, crepe myrtle," Elliott agreed. "So imagine my surprise when I come round the corner and there you are, tangled to your eyeballs in the treacherous tree!" He stopped to laugh.
"Shut up," Ruthie said, throwing a cracker at him.
He expertly opened his mouth and caught it.
"That girl? Amelia? She's going to be in a world of hurt if she doesn't wake up and see what's happening to her," Elliott said, becoming serious. "Just because she doesn't think she's pretty or whatever, doesn't mean she should let herself be used as a doormat, you know? If you have any feelings of friendship left, you'd better take care of her. You need to tell her you understand that having good looks is just about good luck, and that you use them to get what you want as much as anyone, you know?"
Ruthie found herself getting a little irritated by his high-handed tone.
"What do you mean? I don't use my good looks," she began. "I don't care about looks, anyway," she continued. "People around here don't really get that, I guess. But to me, it's stupid, it's like saying, 'congratulations on your face,'--I mean, how dumb is that?" Ruthie looked at Elliott with more than a little indignation.
Elliott looked back at her with that knowing smirk that made her want to slap his face. "Right. Good line. I thought so when John Mayer said it, too." He raised his eyebrow at her. "You're such a smart person, Ruthie Barakat Grimaldi, but you're one of the biggest hypocrites I've ever met in my life."
"What?" Ruthie was sure she'd misheard him. "Did you just call me a hypocrite?" She sat up very straight in her chair, her apple slice forgotten.
"I did indeed," Elliott said with a nod, reaching for another cracker. "I bet no one's ever called you that before, am I right?"
"No, of course not!" Ruthie responded hotly. "Why would they? I'm not a hypocrite, damn you! If anything, I'm known for being very honest and forthright, to everyone!"
Elliott held his hands up. "Whoa, calm down, calm down! I didn't mean to trip over such a deeply held principle." He put his hands down. "But come on. You spout so much bullshit. People let you get away with it because of your looks, that's all." He shrugged. "And hey, that's okay, you know? I reckon that's the way the world works." He nodded.
"What the fuck are you talking about?"
Elliott took a deep breath. "Okay." He held out a finger and put his other finger across it as he counted off. "First, in drama today, you took me to task for making fun of the people in this town, for basically impugning their intelligence when I said the only English author they'd heard of was Shakespeare, remember that?" At Ruthie's terse nod, he continued. "You made me feel pretty bad about it, if I recall, telling me about the agrarian roots of the town, and how most became farmers? Then, moments later, you said that everyone in that classroom was stupid. If I recall, your exact words were that they were 'dumber than a sack of hair.'"
Elliott took another drink of water and smiled at Ruthie.
Ruthie took a deep breath to make a retort, though she had absolutely no idea what she was going to say.
Elliott, however, held up another finger, and counted off again.
"Then, when you were arguing with the blonde girl, Amelia, in the parking lot, you told her, and I quote, 'I don't give a shit how I look to anyone,' do you remember that?" Elliott asked her. "You were quite vociferous in your declaration of this. Then, a few minutes later, when you were having your second argument with that missing link cretin Brett, and you had the unfortunate incident with your lovely hair, your first instinct wasn't to ask for help, but rather to hide it and not let him know what a pickle you were in."
And, even though Ruthie was entertained by his word usage and his accent, the way he said "pickle," she was seriously flipping her shit, and finding it very, very hard to keep from standing up and flipping the table over also.
"When I came by, you'd been struggling there by yourself for a good five minutes though you could've called for help at any time, you know?
"You're a hypocrite," Elliott concluded. "You don't mean half the shit you say, but people don't call you on it because you're clever, you have a way with words, you're very self-confident, and you're very, very pretty." He smiled as Ruthie just sat there in shock. "So don't sit there with your beautiful face, gorgeous hair and body to die for and tell me that your good looks don't matter to you. It's a ridiculous notion."
"You're a class a dick, Elliott Banks," Ruthie finally was able to say. "You can't come to my school, to my classes, walk home with me and come into my house and eat my food and insult me to my fucking face like that!" She rose from the table and started to come around. "I mean, who the fuck do you think you are? Just because you have that fancy accent those pretty eyes, you think you can just say whatever you want about me?"
"Jesus, are you going to hurt me?" Elliott, too, rose and interspersed the chair between them.
"You just better take back what you said, fuckface!"
"What? Have you lost your mind?"
Both of them turned at the sound of the door to the garage opening.
"Uh, Ruthie? What in the world is going on here?" Dad asked mildly, looking back and forth between Ruthie and Elliott, who was still standing behind the chair, which he was holding firmly by its back.
"Dad!" Ruthie's voice was loud, and she tried again, this time in a more normal tone. "I mean, hi Dad, so glad you're home!" She took a deep breath, let it out, and walked over to hug and kiss him.
"Thank you, Ruthie, glad to see you," Todd said, setting his brief case and keys aside. He was still looking with avid curiosity at Elliott who had at least released the chair and was now standing in the kitchen, trying to look relaxed and normal.
"Dad, this is Elliott Banks, the Nicholsons' grandson," Ruthie said, lifting a hand in his direction. "He's staying with them this year, and he's my drama partner. I invited him over so we could brainstorm some ideas for our presentation."
"Yes," Elliott added with a smile. "That's what we were doing when you entered, in fact."
"Oh," Todd said, his face clearing. "I guess that explains the noise, then. It sounded like you were trying to kill each other in here, to be honest. And I know that things have gotten more liberal at school, but I don't think they're going to go for all the swearing I heard, you know?" He looked between the two of them.
"So how about if you two take your food and stuff and move your brainstorming session up to your room, okay? I have some stuff to do down here, and I need it quiet." He ruffled Ruthie's hair, and kissed the top of her head. "Can you do that?"
"No problem," Elliott, answered with another sunny smile. "And we were thinking of possibly going for a swim in a bit, if that would be okay with you?"
Ruthie stared open-mouthed at Elliott as her dad answered.
"As long as you keep the noise down," Todd said with a nod. "Will you be staying for dinner, Elliott? I'll be barbecuing, so there will be plenty."
"That sounds marvelous, Mr. Barakat, thank you. Is it okay if I telephone my grandparents and let you know?" Elliott replied.
"Of course, no problem."
"Wonderful, thank you."
Ruthie wasn't even blinking by now as she looked at her guest.
Elliot picked up the plate of food and gestured toward the hallway.
"Lead the way, please, I don't know where your bedroom is," Elliott told Ruthie with a grin.
Oh. My. God.