The Lance Temptation Part 15

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Emili, sometimes you're such a child."

I flinched. "What do you mean?"

"You always think the world revolves around you."

I stepped back. "But you've been crying. And my dad lost his job. I'm going to lose my school, my friends, my life. I thought you were feeling bad for me."

"Whatever. It's not like you're losing much. I don't see flocks of friends hanging around you all the time."

"I have friends!" I insisted. "What's wrong with you?"

She grabbed my arm. "Nothing's wrong with me! I'm sick. I want to go home. I have an insane woman for a mother. Otherwise, I'm perfectly fine." Her words were steel marbles.

I had a sudden thought and grabbed her arm, yanking up her sleeve. My knees nearly buckled with relief.

"No fresh cuts."

"I told you I wouldn't cut myself anymore. I promised."

"I'm only checking." A heaviness for Farah pressed into me again. I shuddered, wanting to shake it off.

"See, I kept my word."

I put my hand over hers. "Sorry, Farah. You do look sick. Want me to take you to the nurse?"

"What, so she can call my mom? There's a happy thought."

"Okay, then. Let's go to lunch."

"I'll go, but I'm not eating."

During lunch, I kept eyeing Farah. She was pale. Maybe she had some horrible disease. As I sat there, I wondered if it was contagious. Honestly, the dumb things going through my mind. I scanned the noisy cafeteria. It was the usual bedlam, trays clanging, kids yelling, the cash register dinging. I would miss it. I put my sandwich down - it was turning into a lead ball in my stomach anyway. I didn't want to leave Bates. There had to be a way I could stay. There had to be.

I couldn't eat anything else. Together, Farah and I sat there, staring off into s.p.a.ce, saying absolutely nothing.

Later in the day, I dallied in my locker getting my homework organized. I was in no hurry to get home. Dad would be there, and I never knew what to say anymore. I was semi-afraid I'd yell. It was totally unfair, but I was mad. If it weren't for him and his lost job, I wouldn't be in this mess. I knew he didn't lose it on purpose and he felt bad for Sarah and me, but the resentment gurgled anyway.

"Hey, Emili." Marc strolled over to my locker. He had on his quilted navy parka, which made him loom over me like the abominable snowman.

"Marc."

"How are you doing?"

"Not so great."

"I can imagine." He cleared his throat. His hair was getting long, and it nearly covered his eyes. I had a sudden urge to gently push it back. He tilted his head to the side. "I keep thinking about you not being here. Doesn't seem right. You came to this school before I did."

"I know."

"I'm used to seeing you. I like seeing you."

"Me, too."

"It's not going to be the same around here."

"I know. I don't want to go to public. I want to stay."

With insane timing, Lance rounded the corner near us. I nearly choked. His gaze darted between Marc and me.

"Hey, Cis," he said. "Thought I'd walk you home."

His expression challenged Marc. I felt the tension rise and saw a flash of annoyance pa.s.s over Marc's face. He straightened his stance and his jaw tensed. For the tiniest of seconds, I thought he would hit Lance. Being the same height, they stood nose to nose for a long minute. Then Marc stepped back, turning to me. "See you, Emili."

His face was clouded, and because I knew him, I could see the anger lurking. Then his features smoothed out into a blank expression, and he swiveled on his heel and left.

Chapter Twelve.

Lance's eyes narrowed. "What did he want?"

"Nothing. We were talking about me changing schools."

"I can see he's all broken up about it."

"No, he's not." I bent over and pulled my chemistry book from my locker. I straightened the remaining books then stood up and slammed it shut. "Ready."

"Not liking it, Cecily. This fixation Marc has with you."

"It's hardly a fixation."

"What would you call it?"

"Nothing. I'd call it nothing."

"It's not nothing, and I don't like it."

I nearly launched into a tirade about his fixation with Farah, but decided against it. I trudged out of school with Lance following me. Was Marc broken up about me leaving? I kind of hoped so. Which was quite pathetic since I wasn't with him anymore. I guessed I wanted someone - anyone - to be sad for me, to miss me.

I might have found out how much Marc cared if Lance hadn't shown up - like it would mean anything. For a moment there, I was certain Marc was going to fight Lance.

My cheeks burned. What was I thinking? Fight for me? Who was I kidding? There would be no fight. Marc had retreated fast enough.

Maybe Lance would've fought for me.

I was back to being a Drama Queen. Was I hoping for a fight?

Lance grabbed my coat sleeve to slow me down. "What are you thinking about? You look like a crime detective."

"Sorry. A lot on my mind." I slowed my pace, and our steps fell into sync.

"I know."

"Not just about me leaving, but about the money my family's losing. And Sarah's a mess. Farah's been acting like a total nut case, too." For once, I wasn't sorry I'd brought Farah into the conversation. I was becoming more and more alarmed by her behavior and wanted someone to talk about it with.

"What do you mean?"

"She's missing school and she's sick a lot. I've never seen her sick before. She doesn't get sick. Plus she's a total crank."

"Maybe she's upset."

"What did you hear?"

Lance's eyes widened. "Man, Cecily, nothing. She's upset about you, of course. She doesn't want you to leave."

"I don't think that's it."

He shrugged. "I'm just saying. Hey, can you come to the library again?"

I stared at him. "Go to the library again with you?" I was having trouble switching topics so abruptly.

"Yeah. Want to?"

"My mom would rather I played in traffic."

"No, Emili. To study this time."

"Right," I said, dragging out the word. But he wasn't smirking. "For real? You want to study for real? Okay, I can ask her. What time you want to meet?"

"At seven. This time tell her up front I'll be there. I'm not big on studying, but we've got the algebra unit junk."

"Algebra unit junk." I repeated and laughed. "I'll ask her, but don't hold your breath or be mad if she says no."

A car horn blasted behind us. We both jumped. I jerked around and there was Mom pulling to the curb. She motioned for me to get in the car.

"I have to go." I dashed to the car and jumped in.

"Sorry about the honking, but we have to hurry," Mom said as she pulled back into the traffic.

"Hurry where?"

"We have an appointment at Edgemont High. I already picked up your transcripts from Bates."

"Why are we going now? I have over a week left."

"Look, there's no time to squabble about it. I'm taking an extra-long coffee break from work to do this. Let's get it done."

I sighed as loudly as I dared. Mom was obviously in no mood for argument. "Fine. But can't you mail my stuff in? Why do I have to be there? "

"It's not the way we do things, Emili. We go in person. I want to make sure it's done right. I feel bad enough about this as it is. The least I can do is make sure you get enrolled with no problems."

We were nearly there. Edgemont High's parking lot extended forever, and it was still full since they got out later than Bates. Of course, our cla.s.ses started earlier than theirs, so it evened out. I'd been at Edgemont High exactly five times before for basketball games, and we always went in the gym entrance. I didn't know what the school was like in the main area, but it was obviously way bigger than Bates.

Mom swung into the lot and we found a s.p.a.ce to park at the far end. She yanked up the parking brake. "Come on, let's hurry." She grabbed a manila envelope out of the back seat and we were off.

I realized I was still wearing my uniform. Perfect. Nothing like announcing I was a private school girl. Wouldn't you know I'd worn my short coat, too, so my uniform was totally sticking out.

Mom practically ran to the front door. "Come on, Emili, I have to get back to work in twenty minutes."

I walked faster, but I wasn't about to run into Edgemont High. How totally desperate would that look? We pressed a b.u.t.ton to be buzzed in. When we pushed through the two sets of heavy gla.s.s doors, we were greeted by a cop standing in the middle of the hallway.

"You'll need to sign in at the front office," she said. She hiked up her belt and struck a pose like she was straddling a horse.

"Good grief," Mom said under her breath, "you'd think we were breaking into the White House." More loudly she said, "Yes ma'am, headed there right now."

Three guys were in the hallway paying no attention to us - which suited me fine. The office was located in a round depression in the middle of the school's ma.s.sive entrance. There were circular stairs around the depression that climbed up to a second floor and then a third. All the rooms opened out into the round area looking straight down to the office. It was a strange plan, but I liked it. Above, a few students hung over the rails on the open side of the hallway.

Wow, this would be a great place to take a flying leap to your death. Maybe the design wasn't so cool after all.

"Emili, let's go," Mom called and shoved open the office door.

Inside the office, a frizzy-haired woman stood behind a long counter. Granny gla.s.ses were perched halfway down her nose. Her blouse stretched tight, gaping open between the b.u.t.tons right at her... um... her... I didn't want to think about it myself. Guess it would make a great show for the guys.

"Yes?" she said. Her voice was light and friendly, and I completely forgot about her too-tight blouse.

"We're here to register my daughter," Mom said.

My attention was grabbed by a soft snort. I glanced behind me and there sat two girls in overstuffed beige chairs.

"New, huh?" one of them asked. It sounded cliche, but she could've walked out of a photo shoot. Light brown hair feathered around her face. When she moved her head, it swayed ever-so-gently. I'd never before seen such thick lashes. They surrounded light hazel eyes, which were checking me out. I felt like I was standing there in my swimming suit.

The other girl was tall. She had to be because even sitting down, she was a head taller than model girl. She was cute, too, though not in the same league.

I nodded.

"Private school girl," the tall one said.

"Yes, I see," agreed the model.

"Hi," I said.

Both of them stared without responding.

Finally, the tall one asked, "What year?"