The Lance Temptation (14 page)

“You can fix it for me. I know you can. Please, Emili.” She lay down on my bed and curled up like a sick puppy.

I rubbed my forehead and sighed. Someone had to help her. “Okay, I'll try.”

I walked out to the living room. Dad was flipping through channels on TV. He looked up when I came in. “Dad, Farah and I have a big project. We're going to work on it all evening so can she spend the night?”

The lie slipped out too easily. Did I need membership in Liars Anonymous? Was there such a thing? My conscience was getting a huge workout lately and it was beginning to nag deep inside me. I almost blurted out the truth right there, but then my mind fastened on Farah curled up on my bed.

Dad stared at me for a long minute, and I could see his mind processing. Finally, he said, “I don't see why not. Go ahead and tell Farah yes. I'll run it by your mom when she gets home.”

I exhaled. “Thanks, Dad.”

I went back into my room. “It's set, but you have to call your mom. It wouldn't be good to have her coming over in a panic thinking you're lost again.”

Farah sniffed and wiped her nose on her sleeve. “Can you call her?”

“Are you nuts? Talk about suspicious. You have to call her.” I insisted.

Farah took out her phone, pushed a speed dial button, and cleared her throat. “Mom, it's me. I need to stay at Emili's tonight. We have a huge project… Yes, I'm telling you the truth… She's right here.” She handed me the phone.

“Mrs. Menins?” I said.

“Emili, hello. I want to make sure it's all right with your parents if Farah spends the night.” She spoke as if I were a business partner.

“It's fine. My parents agreed.”

“All right. I guess I'll need to bring some clothes over.” She obviously didn't realize Farah came over here with a bag.

“Umm, no, it's okay. I have things she can use. If she needs anything else, my mom will bring her by in the morning. Thanks, Mrs. Menins. See you.” I hung up fast, hoping I didn't sound too rude.

“Okay Farah, you're safe for the night.” I sat down next to her. “We need a plan.”

“I'm so tired I can't think. I feel like crap.” She closed her eyes. “My plan would work, I know it. I could have the fairy tale,” she mumbled. Her deep even breathing signaled instant sleep.

Later, the kitchen door opened and shut, so Mom was home. I knew she'd be heading my way. Thirty seconds later, there was a knock, and she stuck her head in. When she saw Farah asleep on the bed, there were question marks all over her face.

She motioned me into the hallway and shut the door behind us with a soft click. “What's going on?”

“We're working on a project, so Farah's going to spend the night.”

“Emili Jones, you're hardly working on a project. She's fast asleep, and frankly, she looks awful.”

“She's tired. We thought if she took a nap, she'd have more energy to work.”

Mom took hold of my arm and starting dragging me down the hall to her room. She pushed me inside and closed the door. “What's going on? I'm not a total fool.”

“Nothing, Mom. I promise.”

She stared into my eyes. “Promise? Unfortunately, I've been a fool, blindly believing you all year. Something's happened, Emili, and I don't think I can afford to believe you anymore.”

I blinked and could think of nothing to say.

“Tell me what's going on or I'll ride your case all the way to Africa. And I
will
get the truth.”

I studied the floor.

“Is it drugs? Is she high?”

“Mom! No! She doesn't do drugs.”

“Clearly, something's wrong.”

I stood stiffly, trying not to look defiant. “I can't say.”

“You can, and you will.” Mom's words were bullets with perfect aim.

“It's not my secret to tell.”

“Fine. I'll take her home right now.”

“No, don't! Please, Mom.”

“Emili, I might be able to help. Tell me.”

I looked into her eyes. She did care about Farah, I could see it. And she was right — maybe she could help — I sure didn't know what to do.

“You can't tell her mom.”

“No promises. She's only sixteen years old.”

“Her mother will kill her.”

“Murder might be in your future too if you don't spit it out!”

“She's pregnant.” The words flew out of my mouth and instant relief flooded my system. Maybe Mom would know how to help, and she could talk to Mrs. Menins and smooth it over. Mrs. Menins might listen to her.

I bit the ends of my fingers, waiting for her reaction. Mom seemed to have stopped breathing. Her mouth was open and her hand was frozen in mid-air.

“Mom?”

She blinked rapidly, her gaze focusing on me again. “Are you sure? Did she take a test?”

“She took a pee test, and she's been puking non-stop.”

Mom lowered herself to her vanity stool. “Her mother doesn't know?”

“Farah's scared to death to tell her.”

“She'll have to be told. She's her mother, Emili.”

“I know she'll find out. Please don't tell her yet, we have to come up with a plan.”

“Meaning you and Farah?”

“Yeah, but you could help us.”

“Much as I'd like to, this is up to Farah and her parents.”

“Please, Mom, don't tell Mrs. Menins.”

“I'm not going to…”

I let out a sigh of relief.

“Farah's going to.”

“No way. She's too scared.”

“Nevertheless, she's got to. Let's see if she's awake.”

We went back to my room. Farah was still curled in a ball, but her eyes were open. When she saw my mom, she scrambled into a sitting position. “Oh hey, Mrs. Jones. How are you?”

Mom pushed aside some of my stuffed animals and sat down. “I know, Farah.”

Farah's head whipped around to me and she gave me the evil eye. “You
told
?”

Mom interrupted. “I didn't give her a choice.” She brushed hair away from Farah's eyes. “Can I get you anything? Are you hungry at all?”

Farah started to cry, and Mom put her arms around her without a word. Farah cried and cried until her sobs faded into huge sniffles. I pressed against the back of the door and watched, like an invader in an intimate scene where I had no business.

“Go ahead and cry, Farah. We all love you, and it'll be all right. You've got to tell your mother, though. She has to know whether you want her to or not, and you need to see a doctor.” Again, she brushed Farah's hair from her face. “Is there any way you might be wrong?”

Farah wiped her nose on her sleeve. “No, I'm right. I took a test.”

“Let's call your mother.”

“I can't Mrs. Jones. You don't understand. She'll kill me.” She dropped her gaze to the floor, her hands twisting in her lap. “I'm not being dramatic. I'm serious. She'll kill me.”

“Honey, she won't kill you. Come on, get your coat and I'll take you home.”

“I can't…”

“Yes, you can. Have some faith, Farah, it'll be all right. I promise.”

“Can't I spend the night first? Mom said I could.”

“I don't think it's a good idea. You need to be with your mother right now. Come on, let's go.”

Farah got up, put on her coat, and looked at me. The anger was gone. There was only total despair in her eyes.

As soon as she and Mom left, Dad came into my room. “What's going on? I thought Farah was staying over. How are you supposed to finish your project with her leaving?”

“There is no project.”

He frowned. “What?”

“Sorry Dad. I lied. I can't talk about it. Ask Mom, she'll explain everything.”

Dad's expression caved. I knew I'd hurt his feelings — once again. Ever since he lost his job, he'd been trying to push himself into both my life and Sarah's. It was working about as well as the broken MP3 player in my drawer, and I felt kind of bad. Still I asked, “Can I please be by myself for a while?”

He stepped back, his shoulders sagging. “Okay, but you can talk to me, Emili. You don't have to always wait for your mom. I can be a pretty good listener, you know.”

“I know. Thanks.”

He started for the hallway. “Be ready to eat in half an hour.”

The door snapped shut behind him. He'd never before offered to listen to my problems, at least since I could remember. Maybe he was a good listener; I'd never had the chance to find out. He was always at work when there was trouble, even when I was little. Mom was the one who stepped in to help Sarah or me. It was always Mom. She could be plenty bossy, too, but we didn't mind. Like this time. I had no idea how to help Farah, no idea at all. And where was Pete? Shouldn't he be helping Farah instead of her protecting him?

Everything was a complete disaster — including the fact I was losing my whole life. Now Farah pregnant? Pregnancy was only supposed to happen to messed-up girls, not to my best friend.

My mind switched gears and a tiny thorn pressed into my thoughts. Wasn't it just like Farah to one-up my problem? She was always out-doing me — over and over and over again. I might've known she'd override my issue this time, too.

Heat flashed through my body. Sometimes, she made me so mad. The phone rang in the kitchen, startling me out of my thoughts. What was I doing? Was I honestly mad at Farah for having a bigger problem than mine?

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. “Hello?”

“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.

 

 

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.