I was breathing hard, and standing so close to him didn’t help. “Have you seen Farah?” I asked.
“Haven’t seen her all day.”
“She didn’t come to school, and she’s not answering my texts.”
“Maybe she doesn’t want to answer.”
“This is Farah. She always wants to answer. I’m worried.”
Lance shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Not sure what I can do about it.”
I flinched, surprised at his abrupt tone. I’d expected deep interest. I fumbled for something to say. “I guess nothing. Sorry I bothered you.”
He reached out and grabbed my arm. “Don’t leave all mad. I’m just saying…”
“I know, and you’re right. There’s nothing you can do.” Why was I being so curt?
“Let’s go,” he said, taking my hand and pulling me along.
“Where?”
“Over to the bench to sit. Okay with you?” His voice was warm again, the way I remembered it from Friday. Maybe he wasn’t annoyed after all. “I could call my brother. He’ll probably know where she is.”
We sat on a rough cement bench at the edge of the school grounds. The words In Memory of Walter Koenig were carved into the back of it. Everybody at Bates knew Walter Koenig had donated big time for all the landscaping around the school. He had been some kind of famous biologist or something.
Lance took out his cell phone and pressed a button. “Pete? Emili’s looking for Farah… What…? You serious? Right now?” He stood so quickly his backpack slipped from his shoulder, and hung down his side. “Are you… What? You’re insane.”
The words coming out of his mouth were hard like stones. I could hear Pete’s voice on the other end but couldn’t make out what he was saying. He must have been mad though because his voice came fast and loud.
“No way…” Lance said. He snapped his phone shut, took a huge breath, and started pacing around the bench.
I sat there wide-eyed, watching him.
“Slime bag.” He spit the words out.
“Is Farah okay?” I asked.
He started cracking his knuckles, pulling each one with a loud pop. “Turns out I can help you after all. Farah’s fine.”
“What’s wrong? And would you sit, you’re making me dizzy.”
He plunked down on the cold cement. “She’s been with my brother and just left his place.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m sure.”
“She was there all day?”
“Sounds like it,” Lance answered. He ran his hand through his hair.
“How dumb can they be?” My voice was rising. “Does your brother even know what grade she’s in?”
“Don’t yell at me. I’m not the slime bag.” He shook his head and started pulling on his knuckles again.
We both sat there, listening to the loud snaps. Most of the kids had cleared out; they had either been picked up by their parents, or they’d driven home in their own cars. The sun shone low in the sky and my breath started to make little puffs of white in the air.
“At least she’s all right,” I said.
“And yes, he knows how old she is.”
“I worried all day.”
Lance tilted his head and regarded me. “All day, huh?”
I nodded. “All day.”
Another long silence. Lance sighed, and I felt the mood shift. “It’s one of the things I like about you, Cecily Jones — you’re a good friend.”
I smiled. “You know my last name.”
“I know a lot of things about you.”
I inhaled sharply and Farah dropped right off my radar.
He continued, “So, this boyfriend of yours…”
“Marc — you saw him. He’s a close friend.”
“Cecily.” He drawled out every syllable. “Why are you calling him your friend? He’s your boyfriend. You and I both know it — the whole tenth grade knows it.”
I studied my feet. I’d never noticed how big they looked in black flats. Like monstrous walruses. I angled my right foot sideways. Huge.
“Cecily,” Lance repeated, more loudly.
“Okay, fine. He’s my boyfriend. But that doesn’t mean he always will be.” My chest tightened, and I could hear my own voice get higher. “I’m not totally unpopular.”
Where did those words come from?
Lance actually chuckled. “Who says you are? I’m only thinking maybe Marc could pose some problems — you know, get in the way.”
My gaze snapped to his. “What do you mean?” A flash of hope made me hold my breath.
“If you’re already hooked up, then maybe I should be on my way.” He shrugged, stood, and began to walk away backwards, keeping his eyes on mine as if daring me to let him go.
“Stay,” I said. “He won’t always be my boyfriend.”
Lance paused, smile still in place.
And just like magic, Marc’s faithful face faded right out of my brain and heart. Lance raised his eyebrows, came back, and lowered himself to the bench. He leaned in until his face was within a breath. “All right, then. Sounds good. See you soon.”
He kissed me lightly — right there in the middle of the whole world. He kissed me, and I thought I’d surely burst open.
I quickly glanced around to make sure no one had seen. Kissing was grounds for suspension, and I’d never been suspended in my life.
Lance squeezed my shoulder and left. I watched him walk away, and pride coursed through me. “Mine,” I thought to myself. “He’s mine.” I heard a soft clucking sound behind me and swirled around.
There stood Jeannie, big as life.
“How did you get there?” I asked sharply.
“I walked. It’s a free country.” She scrutinized me and then made the clucking noise again. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Marc Rounder’s girlfriend kissing other guys.”
“Marc and I broke up.”
“No kidding? You didn’t mention it in the bathroom earlier today. And it seems highly suspect considering I saw you with him not even an hour ago.”
“Well, we’re about to break up,” I said. Oh help. What now? Would she talk to Marc before I could? Would she tattle to Principal Ramos about Lance and me kissing?
“You won’t tell, will you?” I asked.
She raised her eyebrows and sat. She wriggled her ample behind against the back of the bench.
“Worried?” she asked with actual pleasure in her tone. Her brown eyes were bright.
There was a time when Jeannie and I were friends. For a few years, we were good friends. I sighed — that was forever ago.
“Maybe,” I answered.
“Well, you should be. Oh, Emili, kissing right here where anyone could see you. Are you crazy?”
“I guess I am. But to be fair, he kissed me.”
“Like you didn’t kiss him back.”
She had me.
“Are you more worried about Mr. Ramos or Marc?”
“Both.”
“Marc’s a nice guy, Emili.”
“I know.”
“He shouldn’t be treated like this.”
“I know, Jeannie. I know. I’m going to talk to him today, I swear.”
“You’re scum, Emili Jones.” She got up from the bench and walked off. And even though she wasn’t much of a friend anymore, I felt like I’d been punched.
****
When I got to my house, it was half past four. I knew Marc wouldn’t be home yet. Even though basketball season hadn’t started, conditioning had. The team hit the weight room twice a week after school, meaning Marc couldn’t get home till after five.
I clutched my phone. Should I text him to break up? I thought about girls wailing like banshees in the bathroom because some guy had dumped them by text. Breaking up by text was spineless and I’d even said so a few times. Never in a hundred years would I have guessed I’d even consider it.
Bu
t then, I wasn’t the same Emili as a few days ago. Who knew what I thought anymore? The new Emili would break up with a guy by text, and she wouldn’t give it a second thought.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I started texting, spelling out the words so there could be no mistake. Marc, I think we should take a break.
I pushed send and closed my phone. There, I’d done it. It was official.
But as the evening wore on, I did give it a second thought. It stuck in my mind like a scab I couldn’t scratch off.
I didn’t think this new Emili and I were going to get along at all.
Chapter Five
When my phone rang, I jumped, expecting it to be Marc. I saw Farah’s number and took a quick breath. How was it possible I’d forgotten all about her?
“Where were you today?”
“Hello to you, too,” she said.
“Don’t even answer me. I already know. Lance told me you were with Pete. Farah, are you crazy? What did you do? Does your mom know you skipped?”
“Whoa, take a breath, Inspector. What’s with you?”
“I was worried. Are you okay? What’d you do? Or do I even want to know?”
Farah started gushing over the phone. “It was the best day I’ve had in a long time. Pete’s the nicest guy I’ve ever known. We talked and talked forever.” She paused. “Not that it’s any of your business.”
“You talked all day. Just talked? Farah, I’m your friend, remember. I know you.”
“My friend, Emili, not my mother.”
I squeezed my eyes shut. “You’re right. I’m not your mother.” My voice was barely above a whisper.
Then why did I sometimes feel like her mother? The whole thing was ridiculous and weird. I bit my lip. Fine then, I wouldn’t worry about her. Let her get in trouble and be expelled. See if I cared.
“You still there?” she asked, her tone turning soft and friendly. “Sorry. And thanks for worrying about me. It’s sweet.”
“Right.”
“No, I mean it. Thanks for worrying. You forgive me?”
I was silent.
“Come on, Emili. Please.”
And just like that, I did forgive her — which is what I always did anyway. “Next time, could you at least text me back and tell me you’re okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“Are you at home now?”
“Yes, and I’ll be back at school tomorrow. For the record, I was sick today. I had a cold, you know, a real stuffed-up nose. I couldn’t possibly have gone to school. Got it?”
“Got it, but didn’t the school call your mom to check on you?”
“Of course they did, but I was home in the morning. Mom knew. Then when she went out later, so did I.”
“You should have texted me back.”
“So you’ve said. But it was so much fun and I couldn’t bear to be interrupted. And we’re talking now, and all is forgiven, right?”
“All’s forgiven,” I said. Strangely, I thought about Jeannie right then. I missed her — and the friendship we’d shared. And I hadn’t missed her in months and months. I closed my eyes and remembered her constant chatter and easy laugh. I’d laughed a lot with Jeannie.
“You still there?” Farah asked.
“I’m still here, but I’m expecting another call. So I guess I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hung up, not sure why I didn’t tell Farah about breaking it off with Marc.
I closed my phone and dropped it on my bed. Why hadn’t he called yet? I knew he would. I started pacing around my room. My perfume. I could work on my perfume. I walked to my dresser and picked up the dark bottle of jojoba oil. Usually, I made perfume using essential oils from flowers or fruit. Lately, I’d been going for a woody scent. I’d already tried mixing sandalwood and cedar wood oils with the jojoba, but the combination smelled like a stuffy cabin. I’d even let it sit longer than two weeks trying to mellow it out, but the musty smell remained.
Last week, I’d bought some cypress oil. Maybe if I put eight drops into the jojoba with a few drops of cinnamon it would balance out into a nice scent. I opened my log book where I kept careful notes of all my perfume recipes. Then I began lining up my supplies. If it came out well, I could try it out on Lance to see if he liked it.
There was a knock.
“Yeah?”
The door opened and my sister, Sarah, stuck her head in. “What are you doing?”
“Making perfume.”
She waltzed through the door — Sarah waltzed everywhere. She wanted to be a famous ballerina, so she pretended she was on stage all day long. The thing was, she kind of looked like a ballerina, flowing blonde hair, long skinny legs, nose in the air.
“Can I smell it?”
“I’m not even close to being finished.”
She plopped on my bed.
“Dad’s gone again. Won’t be home for dinner.”
“Him missing dinner is nothing new,” I said.
“You think he stays away on purpose?” she asked, searching my eyes.
“Why would you think such a thing? He has two jobs. He hardly has any free time.”
“I’d rather go to public school. Then he wouldn’t have to work every single minute of the day.”
I grimaced. “Mom and Dad won’t hear of it, especially Mom. It’s Bates Academy or nothing. How many times have we had to listen to her go on and on about what a great school it is? At least she doesn’t volunteer all the time like that batty group of moms in the Booster Club. But I thought you liked Bates. I wouldn’t want to go anywhere else.”
“Still, it’d be nice to see Dad,” Sarah said. “Plus, Mom’s a super crab tonight.”
“She’ll get over it. Give her some space. You can be a bit clingy.”
She stood up in a huff. “Thanks a lot. You’re such a comfort.”
“Sorry.” I sat and patted my bed. “Sit with me for a minute. How was school today?”
“I can stay?” She jumped back onto my bed and scooped up some of my stuffed animals, hugging them. “It was great until Jonathon punched Bradley at recess. Then the whole school had to listen to this huge lecture about how bad fighting and bullying are. It was totally unfair.”
I laughed. “Sounds like it.”
“I actually liked Jonathon before. Now I can’t stand him. Anna likes him, though, ‘cuz she told me.” Sarah beamed as if revealing the most delicious secret in the world.
“Well, I guess it’s good for her you don’t like him anymore.”
Sarah’s eyes lit up. “You’re right, Emili, thanks. I guess I better go do my math assignment. I hate math, don’t you?”
I grinned. “Go do your homework.”
She dropped my animals and sashayed out of the room. I stared at my phone. Marc should’ve already gotten my text. Like a total coward, I picked up my phone and turned it off, dropping it onto my bedspread like it was hot. I didn’t want to talk to him or read whatever he’d text back. I couldn’t bear it. I just couldn’t.
I glanced upwards. How many times had I lain in bed counting all the circular brush strokes on the ceiling? Other than my perfume, it was the perfect distraction from one mess or another. I started counting them again, but I didn’t get far. It wasn’t going to work this time. A gripping sadness settled over me, and all I wanted to do was stop my brain from thinking.
I felt like a limp doll. I stayed in my room for the next couple hours, my gaze going again and again to my silent phone. I still couldn’t make myself turn it back on. I tried to do some English homework but couldn’t concentrate. Marc’s face kept looming in front of me, his eyes watching every move I made.
Around seven, I heard the doorbell, which was weird. We rarely had company, unless it was Farah. My folks weren’t exactly social butterflies, what with Dad’s non-stop work schedule. Mom basically hibernated into her housework every evening. Sarah had friends, but being fifth graders, they didn’t usually wander over on school nights.
“Emili!” Sarah yelled. “It’s for you.”<
br />
“Is it Farah?” I yelled back.
I listened to Sarah slide down the hallway to my room. She only wore socks at home, and she loved seeing how far she could slide without crashing into a wall. I heard her smoosh her face against the outside of my door. Her muffled voice came through. “Nope. It’s you-know-who…” Then she started to sing the words, “Emili loves Marc. Emili loves Marc.”
No, no, no. It couldn’t be.
“I’m sick.”
“You are not!” She was yelling again. “Come on, Emili. He’s in the living room waiting.”
I stood, trying to summon up even a little courage. I ran my hands through my hair to loosen the tangles and regarded my wrinkled sweats. I cringed. Was a girl supposed to dress up when she dumped her boyfriend? My stomach felt pinched and heavy. I took a deep breath and opened my door. This was it.
I stepped into the living room, and there he was sitting on the edge of the couch, tapping his left heel. His whole leg jerked. When he saw me, he stood. “Emili?”
His voice was strained, higher than normal.
“Hey, Marc.” I nodded to him. “Want to sit down?”
He sank again onto the edge of the couch. I remained standing. I bit my lip, unsure of what to say.
“You’re not going to sit with me?” he asked, staring. He was shaking.
“Yeah, okay.” I walked slowly to the couch and sat.
He cleared his throat and took a big gulp of air. It was the first time I’d ever seen him nervous. “I got your text.”
“I figured.”
“What’d you mean?” He rubbed his hands down his thighs. Then he reached over and began stroking my hand gently. I flinched and nearly pulled away. He sucked in his breath, and his fingers stopped moving. We both stared down at our hands, and then slowly, he pulled his hand away.
“I wasn’t sure,” he said, his voice flat. There was a long silence. He coughed. “I guess it’s pretty obvious now. I’m so stupid. I don’t even know why I came over.”
“You’re not stupid.”
His eyes misted over. “Yeah, I am.” He stood and started toward the door.
I couldn’t move. I sat there like a blob with nothing to say. I swallowed past the lump in my throat and felt my body go cold.
The Lance Temptation Page 4