Page 99 of Betting on the Brainiac

“This is a sacred non-Niles space,” she says, dismissing the question. “But while we’re all up in each other’s business, how’s it going with you and Oliver?”

“Fine. Turns out a business marriage is easy if he gives you his credit card to decorate his place and you never see him.”

“So, not great?”

“I literally just said it’s perfect.”

Ruby shoots up her eyebrows and looks at Charlie. “That’s not what I heard. Is that what you heard?”

He shakes his head. “Nope. That is not what I heard.”

“You mean from Oliver?” I get a cold feeling in my stomach at the idea that he’s unhappy with the situation and he’s not telling me. “Is he mad I’m spending too much money? He seemed fine.”

“I’m talking about you,” Ruby says. “It doesn’t sound like it’s going great. You sound bummed that you’re not seeing him more.”

“Uh, no? None of us misses each other at home when one of us has a super busy week. It’s like that with Oliver. He’s working all the time. Too much, to be honest, but not because I need him around more. Because it’s not healthy to spend that much time doing anything.”

“We do miss each other,” Ruby says. “Remember forcibly kidnapping Ava to take time off? But even if it’s one busy week, I don’t think I miss one of y’all until suddenly we’re around each other again, and then I realize I was missing you super much. That hasn’t happened to you?”

“It has,” I say. “But we’ve been friends for at least eight past lives, plus seven years in this one. Oliver and I have known each other two months.”

“Part of which you’ve been married,” Ruby points out. “And not that I’m not hurt and sulking about it all, you told him all the stuff you never told us. You don’t think that means something?”

“It means he walked in and overheard a fight with my dad. Why are you even bringing this up, weirdo? You were the one who said he and I aren’t a good fit.” Then it hits me. “Oh!” I gasp, and Charlie looks like he wants to shush me again. “Ruby Ramos, you’re still trying to win this bet before the end of the year, and since I’m married for eleven more months, you’re stuck trying to win using Oliver.”

Ruby sends Charlie an amused glance before she steps closer to cup my chin. “You beautiful, clueless, cotton-headed ninnymuggins. Mads, how can you have watched me work on Sami and Ava—even helped me with both—and not see right through me?”

For a second, I almost buy it. Then I narrow my eyes. “No way. You’re trying to be all schemeynow, but there is no way you sent me a dorky beanpole in an oversized hoodie and thought I would go for it.”

“Charlie?” Ruby lets her hand fall away but keeps her eyes on mine. “Show her the text.”

Charlie must have been waiting for this because he’s got his phone ready. Without a word, he hands it over.

I stare down at it, not processing at first.

“Check the time stamps.” Ruby’s voice would sound kind and helpful to anyone else, but I’m not fooled; there is glee beneath it. The texts are from mid-August, a few days before Oliver started working in the club. The first one is from Ruby.

Time to bait the trap.

Don’t say trap. Makes you sound deranged.

It’s a trap like if you catch a raccoon always tearing up your trash, so you bait a trap with potato chips and move the raccoon to a nice forest where it can eat nuts.

That’s most of the plot of Over the Hedge.

Rainy day movie at the library last week. Good flick. Time to help the raccoon.

I look up. “Who is the raccoon and who is the bait?”

Ruby only gestures to the phone, smiling.

Just soften him up. And lie about what we’re up to.

Don’t say lie.

He’ll love Madison, right?

---