Ruby's parents are writers. Ruby's parents sit inside their offices on the second floor of their house writing all day long. They write during rainy days, when it doesn't much matter, but also during perfectly sunny days, when it does.  On those days Ruby hops on one foot chanting "outside, outside, outside."  

 

"We'll all go later," her parents say.  But later is never as sunny, and Ruby must be bundled up in her squashy purple coat.  Ruby hates to be bundled up.  "I feel like a marshmallow!" she says. Her mother just wraps another scarf around Ruby's neck.  

 

One day, Ruby at the top of the stairs by her parents' office doors, wishing that something bad would happen.  "If I fell down the stairs and broke my legs, they'd have to do things with me," she thought.  But then she looked down the steep wooden stairs, and thought, "but then I'd hurt all over and I wouldn't be able to go outside at all for months and months." So, Ruby decided not to fall down the stairs and to think of something better she could do instead.  

 

For days Ruby watched her parents through the keyhole while they worked.  They sat at their desks and stared out the window. "Why not go outside instead of just looking at it," Ruby growled. They took out their pens, tapped their cheeks, and started to write. Ruby realized the something better she could do.  

 

That night, her parents went out. Ruby told her sitter she was very sleepy, and she put herself to bed.  The sitter sat on the front porch and called her girlfriend. Ruby waited until she soft laughter from outside. Then she tiptoed out of her room. She found every single pen in every single room, and she hid the pens where no one would find them.  Then, she sat down in her bedroom with her crayons and paper and Lois, her gorilla, and she wrote: 

 

The Secret Life of Pens

 

This is Penny, one lonely pen. Everyday Penny is tap-tap-tapping against a grown-up cheek or scratch-scratch-scratching on paper. Penny dreams sunny days and ink blue skies.  But Penny never gets to go outside. Penny is stuck inside in a very boring office. One lonely day, after the grown-ups had left her alone, again, Penny ran away to find fun pens to play with before she became all dried up. THE END. 

 

Then Ruby drew pictures of pens sitting together over a hot cup of ink, pens playing Frisbee, and having pen picnics.  She placed it outside her door and climbed into bed.  "Being writers," she thought of her parents, "they will understand writing better than talking." 

 

The next day, Ruby's parents went into their offices, sat at their desks, stared out their windows, and picked up their pens to begin to write.  But there were no pens.  Anywhere.  Ruby's parents looked everywhere. They looked in each other's offices, under rugs, behind bookcases.  They looked in the kitchen, in the garage, in the potting shed.  They checked the lint screen in the dryer.  No pens.  Then Ruby's parents looked at each other and said, "Ruby."

 

At Ruby's door, they found a surprise.  A sign hung on the door "Private. No Entrance."  In front of the door was a book, bound with green yarn, called "The Secret Life of Pens."  Which they read, together.

 

And, being writers, they understood immediately. 

 

That day, Ruby and her parents went for a walk down to the park and Ruby's father showed her how to throw a frisbee.  After lunch, a pen reappeared.  The next day, they walked to do the shopping together, and another pen appeared at the bottom of the fruit bowl.  The next day, rain fell all day long. Ruby's mom showed her pictures from when she was as little as Ruby while they drank blueberry tea.  Later that day, Ruby's father found a pen in the lint screen in the dryer.  

 

Day followed day, pen followed pen, and a new pattern appeared.  

 

Now, Ruby and her parents eat breakfast and then do something altogether. Afterwards, Ruby's parents sit in their offices and write. Ruby does other things. Sometimes, she sits at the top of the stairs and thinks about things.  Sometimes she builds houses for Lois, her gorilla.  Sometimes she pretends she is a parrot all day and eats nothing but crackers.  Sometimes she writes.  

 

"What are you writing?" her parents ask her.  

 

Sometimes she doesn't tell them. Sometimes she doesn't know. Sometimes she says, "I'm writing how things can be better." 

 

"How do you do that?" Her parents ask her. 

 

"You have to say things to people in the right way," Ruby tells them.  

 

And then she writes it down, and then they understand.