Read The Lance Temptation Online
Authors: Brenda Maxfield
The Lance Temptation (16 page)
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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 passing period, but he wasn't there. I was nearly late for 7
th
period hanging around â 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 shift at McDafe's. A flicker of hope bubbled â 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 sweatshirt. 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 â 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 â 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 passed 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 space 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 massive 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 shifted 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.
“You're not mad about Lance are you? He was just a shoulder to cry on. I'm better now. I'm feeling much stronger. I think your mom was getting ahold of my dad today. I could stay with Dad through the first months probably, until Pete and I work it all out. Then Pete and I could raise the baby together. I think it'd be best. Pete is super mature. And I don't think my dad will press charges or anything. I'm not even sure he could since I'm sixteen. I think that's the consenting age. Mom wouldn't because it'd be in the news and she'd roll over and die before blasting it out to the public. What do you think? It'll work, won't it?”
Someone had put batteries into her. She wouldn't stop talking. I watched her mouth moving and her face growing more and more desperate, and I felt nothing. Nothing. I held up my hand.
“Farah, I don't think you understand.”
“Understand what? I know it might be hard, but I'm tough. You know me. I can do this. Together, Pete and I can do this.”
I shook my head at her. “You don't understand.” I stood. “I'm sure my mother will let you stay as long as you need to. She's a sap for injured animals. I'll stay in Sarah's room. Let me know if you need anything.”
Her mouth dropped open and a look of horror passed over her face. Still, I felt nothing. I walked away from her. Just like that. I held my breath the entire length of the hallway. I didn't hear one sound from the living room, but I could sense a steel gate slamming shut between us.
****
Sarah came bursting into her room thirty minutes later. She saw me sitting at her desk and stopped short. “What are you doing in my room? Is Farah still here? Nobody's in the living room.”
“I guess she's still here, unless she left in the last half hour.”
“Why are you in my room? You have a fit if I go into yours!”
“I know, and you're right. I'm sorry. Can I please stay in here for a while?”
“What's wrong with your room?” she asked.
“Farah is staying in there.”
“It's never been a problem before,” she said.
“It is now.”
She plopped onto her bed. “What's going on around here anyway? Everything is falling apart.” She kicked off her shoes. “I hate my life.”
“Oh, save me. Cut the drama, Sarah. You don't hate your life.”
“How would you know? I do hate it. Everything's a mess.” She lay back and threw her arms over her head. “Is it true?”
“Is what true?”
“Farah's pregnant. I have ears you know. I'm in fifth grade, and I know stuff.”
“Yes, it's true.” I wasn't surprised she'd figured it out.
Sarah's eyes widened. “What's she going to do?”
“I don't know. Frankly, I don't care.”
Sarah's forehead crinkled. “What do you mean you don't care? She's your best friend.”
I studied the wall next to me. “My ex-best friend.”
Sarah let out a groan. “Like I said! Everything's falling apart.”
For a quick second, I nearly confided in Sarah. My mouth was open and I was ready to tell her about Lance, Farah, Pete, Marc, all of it. Then I stopped short. What was I thinking? She was only a kid.
My insides began to ache with wanting to spill. I needed to talk to someone in the worst way. The shock was wearing off and a piercing emptiness began crushing my insides. I took short gasping breaths â my lungs didn't seem to be working.
Sarah sat up, looking alarmed. “You okay?”
I pressed my hand into my chest. I couldn't get my breath. Sarah jumped up and ran over to me. She started pounding me on the back. “Are you choking?” She was yelling now.
Breathe. Breathe. Slow, Emili, take it slow.
Easy. Easy.
I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated.
Breathe. Breathe.
I grabbed the edge of her desk with both hands. I willed the air into my body.
“Emili! Emili!”
I swallowed past the block in my throat. A burst of air exploded into me. Sarah kept hitting me. I held up my hand. “Stop. Stop.” My voice squeaked out with a hiccough. I gasped.
Sarah threw her arms around me, and I started crying. She squeezed harder. The sobs jolted through my body. I buried my face in her shoulder and my body convulsed with tears. I felt Sarah's thin frame trembling under mine. I shoved away from her, gulping in air.
I braced my arms on her desk and leaned into them. Heaving bursts of air shook me to my core. Sarah had backed up and was staring at me, her eyes wide with horror.
I put my hand up. “It's okay,” I choked out. “It's okay.”
She rushed to me and grabbed me once more.
“You scared me. Can you breathe? What's wrong?”
I let my head fall on her scrawny shoulder. “Sorry, Sarah. Sorry.”
We didn't move for a long moment. Then she pulled away, searching my face, checking me. I pasted on a wobbly smile. “Relax. I'm okay. I just felt sick.”
“Should I call Mom?”
“No, no. It's okay.” I struggled to put a bigger smile in place.
“Okay, but don't do it again. You scared me.”
“I won't, Sarah. I'm feeling better now. Thanks for helping me.”
She perched on the very edge of her bed and kept staring at me.
“Quit staring. Read a book or something.”
She grabbed a comic book off her window sill and opened it, but her eyes were still on me.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Marc. I needed Marc. I could text him, and he would call me. He would. My heart started to relax. My breathing was slowing down, becoming close to normal.
Prblms
, I punched out.
Call me
? My finger hovered over the “send” button. I gritted my teeth. Push it, Emili. Push it. Push it.
I nearly did.
I thought of Jeannie and remembered her hurt, worried eyes full of tears. I thought of Farah and Lance wrapped around each other in my bedroom. I thought about all the lies and deception of the last month. The metallic taste in my mouth was overpowering. I tried to swallow it, but it stuck there, burrowing into me like a knife.
I clicked delete.
I stared down at the empty screen. Slowly and deliberately, I reached over and placed the phone on Sarah's bedspread.
The kitchen door banged shut.
“Mom's home!” Sarah exclaimed. She jumped up and ran out of the room.
A second later, she was back. “It's Dad. And Farah's in the kitchen in case you're wondering.”
“Not wondering,” I answered.
The door banged again.
“It's her!” She was off again.
I didn't move.
This life was too bizarre to be mine. It was unreal. Emili Jones didn't live this way.
It was Friday night. I should be getting ready for the football game and I didn't even know for sure if there was one. I'd walked around in a battered haze all week. In the middle of next week, I would transfer to Edgemont High. Bates Academy would be a thing of my past.
Nobody would even mourn my leaving.
The doorbell rang. I heard people rustling around and then Farah yell out, “Dad!”
A minute later, Mom came into Sarah's room. Her voice was quiet. “Farah's leaving. Her dad's here. Come on out and say good-bye.”
“I don't want to.”
Mom studied my face. “Well, I'm asking you to. It's the polite thing to do. Come on, it will only take a second.”
I dragged my feet down the hallway. When I walked into the living room, there was Farah's dad, hugging her with tears rolling down his cheeks.
“I'm so sorry. I didn't know.” He coughed roughly. Looking at my parents, he said, “The retreat was in a rustic lodge way outside of Chicago. Phone reception was deplorable for this day and age. Most of us unplugged. I didn't even know you'd been calling me.”
“It doesn't matter now,” my dad said. “You're back. We were glad to have her.”
“But it does matter. I'm sorry. Farah, get your things and we'll get out of these people's hair.”
Farah let go of her dad. She came towards me, her eyes drilling into mine. There was a question there, and I saw desperation. She wanted me to forgive her, to forget it ever happened. Like always.
“Okay, Dad,” she said, but she kept staring at me until she brushed past and headed to my bedroom.
“Emili, thank you for helping her,” Mr. Menins said.
I nodded.
“And Mrs. Jones, I can't think you enough,” he continued.
Farah came back into the room. She walked up to me, her shoulders sagging. “I'm not going to get my fairy tale, am I?”
“No.”
“I'll call you,” she said.
Everyone looked at me. Sarah was watching, her eyes huge. The silence was too long. It echoed around the room.
“Yeah,” I finally said.
But not one cell in my body was interested in ever talking to her again.
When they left, the house was oddly quiet. I wandered back to my bedroom and began to re-organize my dresser, which was stupid because for once, Farah hadn't thrown her bag on my perfume knocking it all over.
It didn't need organizing. Even so, I picked up every bottle, wiped each one with the edge of my sleeve, and placed them again in order by height.