Part 20 (2/2)

And a little late to try to fix it now.

I glanced at my half-eaten ham sandwich. I carefully re-wrapped it in the wrinkled cellophane and put it back into my lunch bag.

I wasn't hungry anymore.

Chapter Fifteen.

The day crept forward like a limp turtle. Thoughts tumbled in my brain without a break. All I could think of over and over was Farah, leaving Bates, Marc looking hurt, Lance, and my dad's lost job. What a pathetic mess. I wanted to scream. Between sixth and seventh period, I hoped to see Lance. He wasn't much of a worrier, so I figured he could help snap me out of this funk. He was always in the east hall during pa.s.sing period, but he wasn't there. I was nearly late for 7th period hanging around - looking, I was sure, like a lost puppy.

I couldn't find him after school either. I saw Gerrard, one of his close friends as I was leaving the building.

”Hey, Gerrard, you know where Lance is?”

”He left fifth period. Said he was sick. Haven't seen him since.”

”Thanks.”

I took out my phone to call, but changed my mind. All I wanted to do was go home, cover my head with my blankets and make the whole day go away.

Then I remembered Farah was in my bed.

Great. I wouldn't even have that luxury.

I walked home through a light drizzle. The sky was already an angry gray and turning darker by the moment. As I approached the driveway, I noted Dad's car wasn't there. He might have gotten an extra s.h.i.+ft at McDafe's. A flicker of hope bubbled - maybe he'd found a second job or was at an interview, and I wouldn't have to change schools after all.

I opened the door and walked in. The house was stone quiet. Sarah wasn't there yet, but then I almost always beat her home. She loved to stay after school helping her teacher. Well, she wouldn't have the option much longer because we'd have to take the bus to public school. My footsteps made hollow echoes through the house. I wasn't even sure Farah was still there.

I walked down the hall to my bedroom. The door was shut, which was odd. Maybe Farah was still sleeping. I opened it a crack and sucked in my breath.

There on the bed were Farah and Lance. She was all curled up with her head in his lap. He was gazing down at her, stroking her hair. The love I saw in his face sliced through my heart. They jerked when they heard me and gawked, wild-eyed.

Farah cried, ”Oh no! No! What time is it? Emili, you're home? Are you early? We didn't, I mean, I didn't hear you.” She scrambled off of Lance and tugged on the sleeves of her sweats.h.i.+rt. She pushed the hair back from her face and her eyes darted from Lance to me. ”Lance was, um, making me feel better.”

I didn't move. I couldn't. My legs wouldn't work. My mouth wouldn't work. I stared at them, my mind trying to come to grips with what I'd seen, what they had to have been doing all afternoon.

Lance stretched out his legs and slid off the bed. He straightened his uniform, looking pointedly at Farah, then at me. ”Cis, I only stopped by to check on Farah. That's all. It's not what you think. Honest, it's not.”

”But you went home sick,” I said stupidly. ”You should be at your house, sick.”

His face clouded over.

And then I could move. I backed slowly out of the room, every muscle tense and hurting. I didn't bother shutting the door, only turned and continued moving to the living room. My legs worked in slow motion like an old black and white movie. I held my breath until my lungs nearly burst in anguish. Finally, I gasped, letting the air seep out noisily between tight lips as I sank down to the couch.

Lance hadn't gone home. He wasn't sick at all. He left during fifth period, which meant he'd been here for a couple hours. Who would be so bold to come over here in the first place? Mom or Dad could have been home. How did he know the coast was clear?

I am such an idiot. Farah had texted him. That's exactly what had happened. They had it all worked out. And for sure, they didn't worry about dear old Emili. I'd be no threat at all - sitting at school like an ignorant fool.

What a perfect set-up.

I sat stiffly on the couch and closed my eyes. A bitter metallic taste filled my mouth and the threat of vomit burned my throat.

I didn't breathe as I faced the facts I'd been shoving down and ignoring for months. Lance liked Farah better - he'd always liked her better. How many flipping times had I deluded myself? Did I think not admitting it would make it not true? How brainless could a person be?

And Farah. What kind of friend would do this? After everything we'd been through together? How could she? Was she so evil and heartless?

In a fog, I heard my bedroom door close. Lance walked into the living room, his coat hanging off his shoulders. He didn't look at me but kept his eyes on the floor. ”Sorry,” he said. His voice was so low I could barely hear it.

His left foot shuffled back and forth across the oval rug. There was a long pause, and then he cleared his throat. ”Cecily, I didn't mean to hurt you. I didn't.”

He waited.

I made no sound. My chest was ready to explode.

He sighed and pa.s.sed in front of me toward the front door. He glanced back, but my eyes were glazed over and nothing registered. I heard a stifled groan and then he left. I felt the gush of cold air rush in behind him.

”But you did hurt me,” I whispered to the empty s.p.a.ce he'd left. ”You did hurt me.”

I heard the bedroom door click open and another set of footsteps coming down the hall. I cringed. ”Emili, I didn't plan it. It just happened. I was crying and he was trying to make me feel better. We didn't do anything, I swear.” She spoke quickly like she wanted to get it over with.

I watched her, my body completely still.

”I swear. Don't be mad.” She came over to the couch and sat down. ”It was nothing. Nothing. I just, well, we just... It was nothing.”

She put her hand on my knee. I glared down at it and then looked up, fixing my eyes on hers. She pulled her hand slowly away.

”Well, then, be like that Emili Jones! Just think of yourself once again. No thought about me going through a ma.s.sive crisis right now.”

My insides were shutting down.

”And by the way, thanks a mil for telling me Pete called. Imagine my surprise when I finally got ahold of him today and he said he'd talked to you!” She s.h.i.+fted on the couch and clasped her hands together. ”I haven't told him yet. I want to do it in person. I'm sure he'll do the right thing. Well, it's Pete, so I know he'll do the right thing.”

She pulled her hair up off her neck and then let it go. It fell like a shawl covering her back. She continued, ”I can't meet him here of course. Everyone will figure it out. But I thought maybe this evening you and I could go to the library or something. You know, go out for a bit, and then I could meet up with him. You could discreetly disappear while we talk. It'd work wouldn't it? I think your mom would let us go out together.”

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Had she gone completely insane?

”Emili, aren't you going to say anything? It'd work, right? I tried to figure it all out. While I was lying in bed this morning, I planned it. Can you ask your mom? No, maybe it'd be better if I asked her. She likes me. Well, maybe not so much as before, but still...”

My voice came, then, clipped and hard. ”What exactly is the right thing you're expecting Pete to do? Have you got that all perfectly worked out, too?”

She flinched and started blinking rapidly. ”It's obvious, Emili. The right thing is for him to admit it's his baby and for him to take care of me. You ought to know.”

I pursed my lips so tightly they hurt.

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