Part 5 (2/2)
”Him missing dinner is nothing new,” I said.
”You think he stays away on purpose?” she asked, searching my eyes.
”Why would you think such a thing? He has two jobs. He hardly has any free time.”
”I'd rather go to public school. Then he wouldn't have to work every single minute of the day.”
I grimaced. ”Mom and Dad won't hear of it, especially Mom. It's Bates Academy or nothing. How many times have we had to listen to her go on and on about what a great school it is? At least she doesn't volunteer all the time like that batty group of moms in the Booster Club. But I thought you liked Bates. I wouldn't want to go anywhere else.”
”Still, it'd be nice to see Dad,” Sarah said. ”Plus, Mom's a super crab tonight.”
”She'll get over it. Give her some s.p.a.ce. You can be a bit clingy.”
She stood up in a huff. ”Thanks a lot. You're such a comfort.”
”Sorry.” I sat and patted my bed. ”Sit with me for a minute. How was school today?”
”I can stay?” She jumped back onto my bed and scooped up some of my stuffed animals, hugging them. ”It was great until Jonathon punched Bradley at recess. Then the whole school had to listen to this huge lecture about how bad fighting and bullying are. It was totally unfair.”
I laughed. ”Sounds like it.”
”I actually liked Jonathon before. Now I can't stand him. Anna likes him, though, *cuz she told me.” Sarah beamed as if revealing the most delicious secret in the world.
”Well, I guess it's good for her you don't like him anymore.”
Sarah's eyes lit up. ”You're right, Emili, thanks. I guess I better go do my math a.s.signment. I hate math, don't you?”
I grinned. ”Go do your homework.”
She dropped my animals and sashayed out of the room. I stared at my phone. Marc should've already gotten my text. Like a total coward, I picked up my phone and turned it off, dropping it onto my bedspread like it was hot. I didn't want to talk to him or read whatever he'd text back. I couldn't bear it. I just couldn't.
I glanced upwards. How many times had I lain in bed counting all the circular brush strokes on the ceiling? Other than my perfume, it was the perfect distraction from one mess or another. I started counting them again, but I didn't get far. It wasn't going to work this time. A gripping sadness settled over me, and all I wanted to do was stop my brain from thinking.
I felt like a limp doll. I stayed in my room for the next couple hours, my gaze going again and again to my silent phone. I still couldn't make myself turn it back on. I tried to do some English homework but couldn't concentrate. Marc's face kept looming in front of me, his eyes watching every move I made.
Around seven, I heard the doorbell, which was weird. We rarely had company, unless it was Farah. My folks weren't exactly social b.u.t.terflies, what with Dad's non-stop work schedule. Mom basically hibernated into her housework every evening. Sarah had friends, but being fifth graders, they didn't usually wander over on school nights.
”Emili!” Sarah yelled. ”It's for you.”
”Is it Farah?” I yelled back.
I listened to Sarah slide down the hallway to my room. She only wore socks at home, and she loved seeing how far she could slide without cras.h.i.+ng into a wall. I heard her smoosh her face against the outside of my door. Her m.u.f.fled voice came through. ”Nope. It's you-know-who...” Then she started to sing the words, ”Emili loves Marc. Emili loves Marc.”
No, no, no. It couldn't be.
”I'm sick.”
”You are not!” She was yelling again. ”Come on, Emili. He's in the living room waiting.”
I stood, trying to summon up even a little courage. I ran my hands through my hair to loosen the tangles and regarded my wrinkled sweats. I cringed. Was a girl supposed to dress up when she dumped her boyfriend? My stomach felt pinched and heavy. I took a deep breath and opened my door. This was it.
I stepped into the living room, and there he was sitting on the edge of the couch, tapping his left heel. His whole leg jerked. When he saw me, he stood. ”Emili?”
His voice was strained, higher than normal.
”Hey, Marc.” I nodded to him. ”Want to sit down?”
He sank again onto the edge of the couch. I remained standing. I bit my lip, unsure of what to say.
”You're not going to sit with me?” he asked, staring. He was shaking.
”Yeah, okay.” I walked slowly to the couch and sat.
He cleared his throat and took a big gulp of air. It was the first time I'd ever seen him nervous. ”I got your text.”
”I figured.”
”What'd you mean?” He rubbed his hands down his thighs. Then he reached over and began stroking my hand gently. I flinched and nearly pulled away. He sucked in his breath, and his fingers stopped moving. We both stared down at our hands, and then slowly, he pulled his hand away.
”I wasn't sure,” he said, his voice flat. There was a long silence. He coughed. ”I guess it's pretty obvious now. I'm so stupid. I don't even know why I came over.”
”You're not stupid.”
His eyes misted over. ”Yeah, I am.” He stood and started toward the door.
I couldn't move. I sat there like a blob with nothing to say. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and felt my body go cold.
He walked slowly, like his legs wouldn't support him. Before he reached the entryway, he faced me again. His voice was soft. ”Could you at least tell me why?”
Looking at him, I felt like an idiot. This shouldn't be happening. He was one of the nicest guys I knew. Smart. Nice. I swallowed again. Something sharp dug inside my chest.
”I... well, I...”
He raised his hand. ”It's okay, Emili. I shouldn't have asked. You don't owe me any explanation. I get it.”
”Marc, I'm sorry.”
His eyes were shadowed. They reminded me of my dog Pumpkin's eyes when she was. .h.i.t by a car - full of pain and fear. I'd only been eight years old. When she died, my world stopped. I think I wailed for months. Then one day, my tears dried up. I never spoke of her again and never wanted a new dog. Now, watching Marc, every memory of Pumpkin ripped through my heart like it'd happened yesterday.
But still, I said nothing.
”Does this have anything to do with Lance Jankins?”
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