The Lance Temptation

by Brenda Maxfield

  It wasn’t long before the doorbell rang, and I ran through the living room to get it. “It’s Farah,” I said to my dad before he could get up from the couch.

  I opened the door and gaped at her. There were smudgy circles beneath her eyes and her face was pale. She gripped an overnight bag. Her purse hung off her shoulder, nearly touching the ground.

  “Farah.” I pulled her into the house. “Come on.” I kept pulling her toward my room because I didn’t want my dad to get a good look at her.

  He started up to greet us, but I was too fast. I yanked her down the hallway, pushed her into my room and slammed the door. I guided her to the bed and sat her down. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “You look terrible.”

  “I know. I’m pregnant.”

  I froze. Was this her idea of a joke? “Don’t kid me, it’s not funny. You look half-dead with the flu or something.”

  She didn’t say anything, and I began to feel sick myself. She wasn’t kidding.

  “How do you know?” My voice was quiet. “Did you take a test? But it’s too soon to know, isn’t it? I’m sure you’re wrong.”

  Her eyes were teary, but her tone was determined. “They have new tests — only takes two weeks. It’s been over two weeks. Way over for the first time. I’m not wrong.”

  “How did this happen?”

  “Are you serious?”

  “You told me you weren’t going to do anything stupid.”

  “I lied. Haven’t you figured out I lie sometimes?”

  I sank onto the bed beside her. “It can’t be true.”

  “It’s true all right.”

  “You okay?”

  She jumped up and started pacing. “Of course, I’m not okay!” Her voice was tight. “Do I look okay? I’m the opposite of okay.”

  She stared at me. “He told me he used protection. The irony is so rich, I could laugh — or scream.”

  “Did you tell him yet?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Pete isn’t answering his phone.” Farah threw up both of her hands. “I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it.”

  “He’s got to know.”

  “I’m aware. Can’t you see the headline? Adult Teen Impregnates Stupid Sixteen-year-old Girl.”

  “Oh, Farah.”

  “He didn’t do this on purpose, I know he didn’t. I like him so much. I’ve never liked any guy so much. No, not true, there was someone else once. I liked him more.” She started to cry.

  I had no idea who she was talking about. I took her arm and guided her back to the bed. “Come on, Farah, sit down.”

  She sat and pulled her purse around from behind her. She shoved it towards me. “Go ahead and look.”

  I stared at the purse, almost afraid to touch it. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what was in there. Farah’s wet eyes were fastened on mine.

  “Go ahead,” she urged again.

  I pulled the zipper open and peered inside. There was her cracked wallet, a brush full of loose red hair, lipstick, her phone, and a wad of tissues. “I don’t see anything.”

  “The wallet.”

  I took out the wallet and opened it. There were a few dollars, a credit card and a membership ID for Ailki’s Gym. A photo was stuck inside the coin compartment. I peeled it gently off the leather. It was a much younger Farah with a guy who was high-school age. His hair was reddish blonde and he was thin, almost scrawny. His eyes were heavy and dark, and there was a look of terrible sadness about him.

  “Who is it?” I asked.

  “My brother.”

  “What? You don’t have a brother.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “What do you mean? And this is what you were hiding from me? A photo? I don’t get it.”

  She reached out and took the photo carefully from my hand. She cradled it like a fragile butterfly. “I didn’t want you to know.”

  “Know what?”

  “About Sam.”

  “Farah, you’re making no sense. Why didn’t you want me to know you had a brother?”

  “Because he’s mine. I didn’t want anyone else to have him.”

  “Still not making sense.”

  She focused on the photo and traced the outline of Sam’s face with her finger. “If I don’t talk about him, he won’t actually be gone.”

  “Did he die?”

  “No.”

  “Then what?”

  “My mother.” She took a huge heaving breath. “She killed him.”

  I flinched. “What?”

  “She made him leave. I haven’t seen him since I was little. He might as well be dead.”

  “What happened?”

  Farah lay over on her side. She pressed the photo to her chest. “We used to have so much fun together. Sam made me laugh all the time. We were always laughing. And he took care of me, too. You know, watched out for me. But when he started high school, it all changed. Everything changed. He liked boys, Emili.” Her eyes dared me to react. “Mother detested him for it. She yelled at him, no, screeched at him. It was awful. He used to cry. Do you know what it’s like to see your big brother in high school cry? Dad did nothing. He was mad, too. Not as bad as Mother. But bad enough.”

  I reached over, put my hand on Farah’s ankle and squeezed.

  “Sam hated it. Mother’s screaming didn’t stop. Sam couldn’t take it anymore so he left. Haven’t heard anything since.” Farah was crying again, quietly, the tears running down her cheeks.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Mother bullied him until he left. She’s a witch, I tell you, an evil mongrel witch. I hate her.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She ignored my question and kept talking, her voice a monotone. “Mother took down every photo of him. She cleaned out his room and gave everything to the local homeless shelter. It’s like he never existed.” She shook her head. “I never had a brother. He was never born.”

  “You could find him.”

  “I tried. I’ve tried lots of times on the Internet. I can’t find him.”

  “I could help you.”

  “It’s no good.” She sat up and carefully tucked his picture back into her wallet. “I don’t know why I never showed you. But I don’t show anyone. Ever.”

  “Thanks for showing me now.”

  She wriggled back into a sitting position, and I saw her tears were wiped dry. “I think Pete and I should get married.”

  My mouth dropped open. “Married? Farah, you’re barely sixteen. Everyone would know Pete’s the father, and he’d be in trouble for sure.”

  She perched on the edge of the bed. “My life is over, ruined.”

  I grasped her shoulder. “Your life isn’t ruined. We’ll figure something out.”

  “Says you.”

  I started to argue with her, but before I could say a word, she clamped her hand over her mouth and ran to the bathroom. I followed her, getting there as she finished vomiting.

  “Everything all right?” Dad yelled from the living room.

  “Everything’s fine,” I answered.

  I ran a washcloth under cold water and handed it to Farah. We went back into my room.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Have a baby.”

  “Might be other options.”

  “Who are you? The Emili Jones I know would never in a million years tell me to have an abortion.”

  “I wasn’t telling you to have an abortion, only saying there might be options.”

  “What options? I have the baby or I don’t. Abortion is out, I could never do it. So, I have the baby.” She paused and her voice became airy, far away. “I won’t need other options, anyway. Pete will marry me, I know he will. He loves me and this will be my ticket out.”

  “Farah, he can’t marry you. Your parents would never allow it.”

  Farah stood up. “It’s not their choice. It’s my body and my baby. People get married young all the time. Besides, Pete has an apartment and a job. We�
��ll be fine.” Her voice was getting higher, louder.

  “Shh! Dad’s going to hear you.”

  She sank down on the bed. “It could work, I know it could. We’d have the baby and put it in daycare. I’d finish school, and it could be a fairy tale. I always liked fairy tales when I was little. Right? It could be a fairy tale.”

  I stared at her. “You can’t be serious. It’d never ever work. How would you pay for daycare?”

  “Are you on my side or not?” she snapped. “It could work.”

  “You know I’m on your side. Did you tell your mom?”

  She glanced at me sideways. “What do you think?”

  We both sat there silent for a minute.

  “I’m a statistic,” Farah said.

  “What?”

  “Pregnant at sixteen. I’m a statistic.”

  I didn’t know what to say; she was right. I simply couldn’t digest it. She was clever — she never got caught in anything. How could she have let this happen?

  “Mother will kill me, absolutely kill me.” Her eyes were suddenly frantic. “Do you know what this’ll do to her reputation? I’m so dead.”

  I put my arm around her. “She won’t kill you. I know she has her issues, but give her a chance.”

  “You’re thinking of your mom, not mine. She’ll bully me right out of the house.” She clenched my arm. “Can I spend the night? Please? I already packed. Your parents will let me, won’t they?”

  “It’s a school night. They’re going to wonder…”

  “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 do
or 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?