The Lance Temptation (11 page)

 

 

“Marc.”

“You have to change schools?”

“Probably. Dad told me. He lost his job at Convenient Paper. He's home right now.”

Marc knew my dad was rarely home. “Hey, I'm sorry. He still has his copier job, right?”

“Yeah, but it won't pay the tuition.”

“What about your mom's job?”

“Still has it, but it doesn't make much. I've heard her rant about her crummy pay often enough.”

There was a long silence. “Where would you go?”

“Public. What else is there?”

“Homeschool?”

“Yeah, and who would teach us? I can't see Dad getting into it, and Mom might want to but she wouldn't have the time. Besides, can you imagine me staying home with Sarah all day?”

“Yeah, it wouldn't be good. Wow, Emili, sorry.” His voice was soft and sympathetic, pure perfect Marc.

Tears came to my eyes. “Me too.”

Another silence.

“If there's anything I can do…”

“Thanks. There isn't. Thanks for calling though. It means a lot.”

“Yeah. We're friends, aren't we Emili? You like me enough to be friends?” There was a catch in his voice.

I swallowed. “Yes, yes, of course. We're friends, good friends.”

“Good friends,” he repeated.

“Marc, we…” I stopped. What was I going to say? It felt so good to talk to him. His voice was soothing, yet strong. I had a sudden urge to curl up in his lap.

“We better go,” he said.

“Yep.”

We didn't, though. Neither of us hung up. We sat on the line, listening to each other breathe.

After another minute, he said it again. “We better go.”

“I know. Bye then.”

“Bye back.” And he hung up.

I pressed the phone to my chest and took a deep breath. I rolled over on my bed, clutching the phone like it was Marc himself. Did I want him back? After all that had happened?

No. Talking to Marc was an old habit, nothing more. It didn't mean anything.

The front door slammed and I heard Sarah's voice get louder and louder. Obviously, she'd seen Dad. I wasn't surprised when she burst through my door two minutes later.

“Emili!” She was crying. “Do you know?”

“Yeah, I know.”

“What are we going to do?” Now she started wailing.

“Be quiet. Dad will hear you. He feels bad enough without you carrying on. Besides, I remember you said you wanted to go to public school.”

She clamped her hand over her mouth, while the tears kept rolling.

I patted the bed. “Sit down. It won't be so bad.”

Her eyes grew huge. She took her hand from her mouth. “How can you
say
that? I didn't mean it before. Public school? Are you crazy? It'll be horrible!”

“No, it won't.” I didn't believe my own words, but I wanted to say something to calm her down. “The rest of town goes to public school. It's not so bad.”

She kept shaking her head. “I'm not going, I tell you. I'm not going. They can't make me. I'll homeschool myself.”

Right, like that would ever happen. I said nothing — she already knew it was impossible.

“What if no one likes me? What if I don't make any friends?”

“Don't be ridiculous. Of course, you'll make friends.”

“No, I won't. I won't have good friends like Becky and Danae and Jara.”

I took hold of both her shoulders. “Yes, you will Sarah. You're a nice girl. And you'll still be friends with Becky and Danae and Jara. It's not like you're moving to Mars. You're talented and everyone will love you. Look how well you dance and you haven't even had lessons yet.”

“Now I'll never get them!” Her crying increased.

“Yes, you will. The whole world won't automatically stop because we have to go to public school.”

“My world will!”

So would mine. She nailed it.

“I've got to call my friends. They're going to die. Simply die!” She got up and walked to my door, then looked over her shoulder. “Aren't you upset, Emili?”

I shook my head. “Won't do any good. It'll be all right. You'll see.”

The monster lie of the year. Hadn't I promised myself I wasn't going to lie anymore? I guessed extenuating circumstances didn't count. Sarah oozed sadness. My desperation didn't seem as raw as hers — maybe it was because I'd talked with Marc.

Sarah wiped her nose and left.

My phone rang. I looked at the screen. Farah.

“What's the emergency?” she asked. Her voice sounded funny, but right then I was too into my own problems to care.

“My dad lost one of his jobs.”

“So?”

“So, I'll be changing schools.”

There was a lengthy silence. Finally, she said, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah. Dad told me.” I heard a muffled sob. “Farah, are you there? Is everything all right?”

Another pause. Then came her regular gush. “Of course! Why wouldn't it be? But Emili, I need you here.”

This was new. Farah needing me? It felt kind of good.

“Sorry. I don't want to leave and maybe I won't have to. It's not one hundred percent certain.”

“No, no. You'll have to. It's my luck lately.”

My phone beeped. It was Lance. “Lance is calling.”

“You better take it. We can talk later.”

I punched my screen. “Lance?”

“Got your message. What gives?”

“I have to change schools.”

“What? Why?”

“Dad lost one of his jobs. There won't be money.”

“Whoa, tough break.”

Tough break?
That
was his reaction?

“Yeah.” My voice was stiff, a bit too polite. Was I mad at him? Why was my voice so tight?

“It'll change things,” he continued.

“I know. I won't be at Bates every day. We could still see each other though, right?”

“Uh… yeah… sure. I guess.”

“You guess?” I tensed. Was he breaking up with me? “Well, we don't have to keep seeing each other. I mean, if it's too much of a bother.”

The words flew from my mouth before I could stop them.

“Hang on, Cis. Give me a minute to process.”

“Fine, take your minute. We can talk later.” I closed my phone. I had stupidly hoped for a different reaction. I wanted him to say,
Oh,
Cecily
,
I'll miss you so much
. Or
Cecily, we can surmount any obstacles to remain together. Our love will conquer all.

Fat dream. I flopped on my bed. I didn't recognize myself anymore. My reactions to everything were a big tangle of confusion. At this rate, I wouldn't have a boyfriend or any friends at all to miss me when I left.

Mom came home later and I heard my parents head off to their bedroom, like they always did to have discussions. Sarah and I learned a long time ago if we sat in the hallway and were super quiet, we could hear most of what they said. As soon as their door closed, Sarah crept out of her room and I out of mine. We smiled ruefully at each other and sank to the floor outside their room.

“Have you known this was coming?” Mom asked.

“I don't think so. There may have been signs, I don't know. Guess I didn't want to see them.”

I heard what sounded like shoes clunk to the floor. “Would've been nice to have some warning.”

“A lot of things would've been nice.” Dad's tone hardened into sarcasm. Whoa.

“Don't get snippy with me, David Evan Jones, it's not my fault you're fired.”

“I'm not fired. I'm laid off.”

“Same result.”

Silence. Then Dad said, “Be nice to have some support here.”

“You're right. I'm sorry. You caught me off guard. Doesn't your loyalty for the last six years mean anything? Were you the only one laid off?”

“No, Jim got it too.”

“Great. Wasn't Convenient Paper his only job? What's he going to do?”

“I don't know. We're both in a bit of shock. And this isn't the end. More people are getting cut. Next month or the one after. Everyone's in a panic.”

One of them was scuffling about. Then my mom said, and her voice sounded tired and sad, “It seems mighty cold-blooded if you ask me.”

“I'll find something else. Don't worry, I'll start looking tomorrow.”

“It could take months, years. Everyone's looking for work right now. My friend Janice's husband has been looking for two years.
Two years!
This couldn't have happened at a worse time. What with prices going up and no raise for me next year, and not to mention Sarah's dance lessons. We were going to start her in January.”

Sarah sucked in her breath and her eyes grew huge. I clamped my hand over her mouth and gave her a warning look. She floundered under my clasp and fresh tears began anew.

“I know. I know. Let's remain calm,” Dad said.

“It doesn't make any difference how we calm we remain, does it? It's a done flippin' deal.” Oh, Mom was in great form tonight. “Do the girls know?”

“Yes, they know.”

“What? You told them before telling me?”

“They came home and saw me on the couch. I had to have some excuse for being home before ten o'clock at night.”

“I suppose.” Her voice softened. “I'm sorry, David. This puts us in a predicament, doesn't it?”

“I've been thinking. If we cut the girls' tuition, it might not be so bad.”

“Cut their…” A pause. Then she sighed so loudly, we heard it through the door. “I suppose Bates will have to go. I hate it. I hate it.”

“I'm not exactly dancing the jig,” Dad answered.

“I know, I know. I guess I should go talk with the girls.”

Sarah and I looked at each other in alarm. We scrambled up and hurried to my bedroom. We barely made it before we heard their bedroom door open and close.

“Girls!” Mom hollered down the hallway. “We have to talk.”

“We're in here,” I said.

She opened my door and stood there. Her face drooped. I'd never noticed before, but she was getting wrinkles all around her mouth and eyes, the crinkly kind.

“Your father told you the news.”

Sarah ran to Mom and threw her arms around her waist. “We won't have to quit Bates will we? You can fix it, can't you?” She raised her head to Mom. “Emili can go to public school. If we only had one tuition to pay, we could do it? Right? There'd be enough money for me?”

“Thanks a lot, Sarah. How generous of you,” I said.

Mom unwrapped Sarah's arms from her middle. “I don't see how it's possible for either of you girls to stay. We can check the numbers, but don't get your hopes up. I'm sorry.”

Sarah gasped for air. To her credit, I thought she was trying not to sob again.

“Your father feels terrible. I'm counting on you two not to make it worse.”

“Of course, Mom. We'll be fine.” I glanced meaningfully at Sarah.

She studied her feet.

“We'll go with you to enroll at public. We'll need your records from Bates, which won't be difficult. Girls, I'm sorry. You can finish out the month. We're paid through then.” She glanced at me then fixed her eyes on Sarah. “It'll be all right. I know it's a big change, but you girls are strong. You'll make friends quickly. You'll see.”

She hugged us both then headed toward the door. There were tears in her eyes.

“Mom?” I asked.

She turned around.

“Love you.”

“Love you, too.” She barely got the words out before hurrying from my room.

I had exactly ten days left at Bates Academy. The thought looped in my brain.
Ten days. Ten days. Ten days.