The Lance Temptation Part 19

Farah was right - I was petty and selfish. I gazed into the mirror above my dresser then averted my eyes. I didn't want to see myself. I was a horrible person. Who would think in such a way?

Sarah hollered, "Emili, phone!"

I squeezed my eyes shut. No one called my home phone. No one even knew the number; everyone called my cell. I went to the kitchen and took the receiver from Sarah. "h.e.l.lo?"

"Emili? Pete. So glad I got you."

"Where are you?"

"My apartment. I'm looking for Farah. She's called a bunch of times, and now she won't pick up."

"She's super busy with her mom right now."

"Do you know what she wanted? She sounded desperate."

"Yeah, I know, but I can't tell you. You need to talk to her. Don't call, though. Let her call you."

"Emili, you're not making sense. Is she in trouble?"

"You could say so." Was I saying too much? Farah would kill me if I told him.

"Well, is she all right? Has something happened to her?"

"Just talk to her, okay? Pick up when she calls."

A short silence, then he replied, "Okay. If you won't tell me, I guess I have no choice. I'll wait for her call."

Mom came home as I hung up the phone.

"Is she all right?" I asked quickly.

"I'm sure she's fine. Well, as fine as she can be. I didn't stay long, didn't seem appropriate. It'll be okay, Emili. Her mother will come around." She pointed to a kitchen chair. "Sit."

I did. Mom stood across from me. "How did this happen?"

I blanched. "What do you mean? You know how."

"Emili, who's the father? Has she been having relations for a long time? Are you?" Her eyes drilled into me.

"Oh, man. No, I'm not. And she's hasn't been having *relations.' She's only done it with one guy."

Was I telling the truth? I didn't know.

"Who's the father?"

"I can't say."

"Can't or won't? You must know. You're with her all the time."

"I can't say," I said, my tone insistent.

"I don't like any of this. Everything is out of control, and I'm the last to know anything. You'll have to be grounded for a while."

I stood up. "What? So not fair. I haven't done anything. I'm not the one who's pregnant!"

Mother's shoulders fell. "You're right. It's not fair."

"Am I still grounded?"

Mother began to study the cupboard door behind as if it held some secret code. "I guess not," she said.

Chapter Fourteen.

I walked back to my bedroom and picked up my phone. Before I could dial, it rang in my hand - Lance.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"With Farah. Have you heard from her?"

"You're calling me to check up on her?"

"I'm only asking. Look - I knew you were concerned, so I'm checking."

"Why don't you ask your brother?" The words came out before I could stop them.

"Pete? Why? What does he know?"

"Nothing, apparently." I couldn't help it; my voice was cold and stiff. Why was I turning on Lance? He hadn't done anything.

"Cecily, what's going on?" He was tender now, probing.

"I can't tell you. Farah would string me up."

"Tell me what?"

"Lance, I have to go. Mom's hot on my trail."

"Fine. But I want to talk tomorrow, first thing."

"Right."

I hung up, walked over to my desk, and sat on the chair. I was exhausted, but didn't want to lie down. My stomach twisted and gurgled. What would happen to Farah? And the baby?

Most of all, what would happen to me?

Why was I making this about Lance? Pete was the one who did it. All Lance had done was ask about Farah. Why was I so surprised? And even more important, why did it keep bothering me?

Oh. My. Word.

Jeannie.

I'd become her twin. I'd felt so sorry for her, and here I was acting the same way. Stewing about other girls stealing my guy. Pathetic.

No, it couldn't be the same. Jeannie was worried because of me - me, Emili Jones, who couldn't steal a guy if I tried. But, Farah, that was another issue - she could take anyone's guy away any time she wanted to. And she often did. Who could compete with her? The two scenarios hardly compared.

What had Jeannie meant the other day when she said Farah had ruined me? How? It made no sense. Right now the only one Farah was ruining was herself.

I laid my head on my desk. The cool wood surface felt calming on my face. I only had a few more days left at Bates. Maybe it was a good thing - I could start all over at Edgemont High. But Edgemont was such a zoo. Would I ever be able to fit in there?

I was too tired to start all over. I wanted to stay at Bates, only have everything fixed. I wanted my dad to get his job back. I wanted Farah to be her c.o.c.ky, irreverent self: laughing at everything and everyone, not caring what anybody thought, giving me her old make-up, daring me to be daring.

That's what I wanted.

But I wasn't going to get it. Nothing would ever be the same. I couldn't count on Farah anymore - she was going to be totally consumed. Who could I count on? Lance? Sometimes I thought so, but I was never sure. Marc? I ruined us. Jeannie? Yeah, right - hardly a possibility there. Farah told me I didn't have many friends, and she was right. I hardly had any friends at all.

Oh sure, I knew a lot of people. But friends?

Not so much.

How did this happen? I used to have lots of friends. In the old days, Jeannie and Marcella and I spent hours together. The three of us - plus anyone else who happened to be hanging with us at the time - used to take turns having slumber parties every Friday night. Jeannie's house was the best. Her mom always made lemonade with actual lemons and baked homemade pizza. She'd let us pile on the pepperoni and cheese as high as we wanted. We'd eat till we were sick. Marcella would hog the sofa bed every single time, moaning about how her stomach was so full she'd split a gut. Then we'd laugh until we almost split ours.

I smiled. Those were good times.

I shook my head. It didn't matter anymore anyway. I'd be gone from Bates, and once I left, no one would give me a second thought.

Except for Lance. He said we could still hang out - if he meant it. I never knew if Lance meant anything he said.

Maybe I could make a whole new group of friends at Edgemont High. Surely, everyone wasn't like the model and her side-kick. There had to be nice kids who'd welcome me.

I thought about my sister. I wondered how she was doing with the whole going to public school thing. I hadn't heard her whining for a while. Was she coping better than I was? My watch read 9:30. She was probably already in bed asleep. I should check with her in the morning. She wasn't such a bad sister. Besides, I needed a break from my own issues.

The doorbell rang. I cringed. What else could possibly happen today? n.o.body should be ringing our doorbell at this hour. I went out to the living room just as Mom opened the door to Farah.

She was crying, her sobs choking out between hiccups. "She kicked me out," she said. "And Dad's not picking up."

My mother put her arms around Farah and pulled her into the house. "She truly kicked you out?"

Farah nodded. "I told you she would."

Mom ran her hand over Farah's hair, smoothing it from her forehead. "She needs time. It had to be a shock."

"Not what she said. She said I'd been begging for this for a long time. Told me it serves me right." Farah's face crumpled as new sobs shook her.

"It's all right, Farah. You can stay here. Don't worry, it'll be all right." Mom rubbed Farah's back.

I stood there watching them.

Dad came out from the hallway behind me. "What's going on?"

"Farah is going to be staying with us tonight," Mom stated in no uncertain terms.

Dad scratched his head. A meaningful glance pa.s.sed between them. "All right, fine. Farah, um, can I get you anything?"

Farah shook her head and wiped her eyes. Dad appeared relieved and quickly retreated into the kitchen.

Mom turned to me. "Emili, as you can see, Farah's spending the night after all. She'll sleep in your bed. Can you grab a sleeping bag and sleep on the floor?"

"We can both fit in my bed, we've done it tons of times," I said. "Come on, Farah."

Farah sniffed loudly and followed me. "Sorry, Emili. I told you Mother would have a fit. I told you she hated me."

"She doesn't hate you. She's just mad."

"Right," Farah answered, still sniffing loudly. "It's like Sam all over again. She got rid of him and now she's getting rid of me."

Farah hadn't brought her bag with her this time. I pulled a T-shirt from my dresser. "Here, you can wear this."

Farah climbed out of her clothes and dropped them in a pile on the floor. I studied her naked stomach expecting to see it pooched out, but it was flat as a magazine. Well, how stupid was I? As if she'd be showing the first month.

I bent down to pick up her jeans and shirt. I folded and stacked them on my desk chair like I usually did. I tucked her socks neatly into the fold of her jeans and lined up her shoes under the chair. I switched off the lamp and squished into bed beside her. Her breathing was already slow and steady, so I knew she was asleep. We'd slept in this bed together countless times. It was never super comfortable, but tonight, I could barely stand it. I wanted to shove her over until she hung off the opposite edge. But I didn't. Surprised and confused by how angry I felt, I shifted to my side, taking as little s.p.a.ce as possible.

"Oh yeah, Pete called," I said to her motionless form beside me.

Farah threw up three times before 7:00 am. My anger was gone. Instead, there was a heavy feeling of dread and tenderness for her hanging over me. By breakfast time, she'd finally fallen back asleep. I put on my uniform and went out to the kitchen. Mom was on the phone, one hand on her hip.

"Mrs. Menins, she's here. I realize... Yes, I know... What do you suggest...? Yes, she can, but... and her father... Well, if he's not there, may I at least have his number... I know... I think..." My mother held the phone away from her ear and stared at it.

She saw me in the doorway. "She hung up. Mrs. Menins hung up on me. Seriously? What's her problem? Here I am, doing her an enormous favor, and she hangs up? What kind of mother could be so heartless?"

I slipped onto a kitchen stool. "A horrid one. Farah's told me forever her mother's a witch. I never thought she was so bad, but I guess Farah was right."

"Who would kick a sixteen-year-old pregnant girl out into the street? It boggles the mind. Think what could have happened to her if she hadn't come here. I should report Mrs. Menins to Child Protective Services."

"It wouldn't help. She won't change, Mom."

"I suppose not. I need Farah's dad's number. Can you get it for me? Where's Farah?"

"Asleep. She's been puking all night. I didn't want to wake her." I picked up a piece of toast from a plate on the counter and reached for the knife to spread some jelly on it. "Mom, there's going to be a ton of pressure on her from Bates. They don't like pregnant students. Remember that girl Doreen? She lasted about a month. I still don't know where she ended up. No one does."