"You're not mad about Lance are you? He was just a shoulder to cry on. I'm better now. I'm feeling much stronger. I think your mom was getting ahold of my dad today. I could stay with Dad through the first months probably, until Pete and I work it all out. Then Pete and I could raise the baby together. I think it'd be best. Pete is super mature. And I don't think my dad will press charges or anything. I'm not even sure he could since I'm sixteen. I think that's the consenting age. Mom wouldn't because it'd be in the news and she'd roll over and die before blasting it out to the public. What do you think? It'll work, won't it?"

Someone had put batteries into her. She wouldn't stop talking. I watched her mouth moving and her face growing more and more desperate, and I felt nothing. Nothing. I held up my hand.

"Farah, I don't think you understand."

"Understand what? I know it might be hard, but I'm tough. You know me. I can do this. Together, Pete and I can do this."

I shook my head at her. "You don't understand." I stood. "I'm sure my mother will let you stay as long as you need to. She's a sap for injured animals. I'll stay in Sarah's room. Let me know if you need anything."

Her mouth dropped open and a look of horror pa.s.sed over her face. Still, I felt nothing. I walked away from her. Just like that. I held my breath the entire length of the hallway. I didn't hear one sound from the living room, but I could sense a steel gate slamming shut between us.

Sarah came bursting into her room thirty minutes later. She saw me sitting at her desk and stopped short. "What are you doing in my room? Is Farah still here? n.o.body's in the living room."

"I guess she's still here, unless she left in the last half hour."

"Why are you in my room? You have a fit if I go into yours!"

"I know, and you're right. I'm sorry. Can I please stay in here for a while?"

"What's wrong with your room?" she asked.

"Farah is staying in there."

"It's never been a problem before," she said.

"It is now."

She plopped onto her bed. "What's going on around here anyway? Everything is falling apart." She kicked off her shoes. "I hate my life."

"Oh, save me. Cut the drama, Sarah. You don't hate your life."

"How would you know? I do hate it. Everything's a mess." She lay back and threw her arms over her head. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Farah's pregnant. I have ears you know. I'm in fifth grade, and I know stuff."

"Yes, it's true." I wasn't surprised she'd figured it out.

Sarah's eyes widened. "What's she going to do?"

"I don't know. Frankly, I don't care."

Sarah's forehead crinkled. "What do you mean you don't care? She's your best friend."

I studied the wall next to me. "My ex-best friend."

Sarah let out a groan. "Like I said! Everything's falling apart."

For a quick second, I nearly confided in Sarah. My mouth was open and I was ready to tell her about Lance, Farah, Pete, Marc, all of it. Then I stopped short. What was I thinking? She was only a kid.

My insides began to ache with wanting to spill. I needed to talk to someone in the worst way. The shock was wearing off and a piercing emptiness began crushing my insides. I took short gasping breaths - my lungs didn't seem to be working.

Sarah sat up, looking alarmed. "You okay?"

I pressed my hand into my chest. I couldn't get my breath. Sarah jumped up and ran over to me. She started pounding me on the back. "Are you choking?" She was yelling now.

Breathe. Breathe. Slow, Emili, take it slow. Easy. Easy.

I squeezed my eyes shut and concentrated. Breathe. Breathe. I grabbed the edge of her desk with both hands. I willed the air into my body.

"Emili! Emili!"

I swallowed past the block in my throat. A burst of air exploded into me. Sarah kept hitting me. I held up my hand. "Stop. Stop." My voice squeaked out with a hiccough. I gasped.

Sarah threw her arms around me, and I started crying. She squeezed harder. The sobs jolted through my body. I buried my face in her shoulder and my body convulsed with tears. I felt Sarah's thin frame trembling under mine. I shoved away from her, gulping in air.

I braced my arms on her desk and leaned into them. Heaving bursts of air shook me to my core. Sarah had backed up and was staring at me, her eyes wide with horror.

I put my hand up. "It's okay," I choked out. "It's okay."

She rushed to me and grabbed me once more.

"You scared me. Can you breathe? What's wrong?"

I let my head fall on her scrawny shoulder. "Sorry, Sarah. Sorry."

We didn't move for a long moment. Then she pulled away, searching my face, checking me. I pasted on a wobbly smile. "Relax. I'm okay. I just felt sick."

"Should I call Mom?"

"No, no. It's okay." I struggled to put a bigger smile in place.

"Okay, but don't do it again. You scared me."

"I won't, Sarah. I'm feeling better now. Thanks for helping me."

She perched on the very edge of her bed and kept staring at me.

"Quit staring. Read a book or something."

She grabbed a comic book off her window sill and opened it, but her eyes were still on me.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. Marc. I needed Marc. I could text him, and he would call me. He would. My heart started to relax. My breathing was slowing down, becoming close to normal.

Prblms, I punched out. Call me? My finger hovered over the "send" b.u.t.ton. I gritted my teeth. Push it, Emili. Push it. Push it.

I nearly did.

I thought of Jeannie and remembered her hurt, worried eyes full of tears. I thought of Farah and Lance wrapped around each other in my bedroom. I thought about all the lies and deception of the last month. The metallic taste in my mouth was overpowering. I tried to swallow it, but it stuck there, burrowing into me like a knife.

I clicked delete.

I stared down at the empty screen. Slowly and deliberately, I reached over and placed the phone on Sarah's bedspread.

The kitchen door banged shut.

"Mom's home!" Sarah exclaimed. She jumped up and ran out of the room.

A second later, she was back. "It's Dad. And Farah's in the kitchen in case you're wondering."

"Not wondering," I answered.

The door banged again.

"It's her!" She was off again.

I didn't move.

This life was too bizarre to be mine. It was unreal. Emili Jones didn't live this way.

It was Friday night. I should be getting ready for the football game and I didn't even know for sure if there was one. I'd walked around in a battered haze all week. In the middle of next week, I would transfer to Edgemont High. Bates Academy would be a thing of my past.

n.o.body would even mourn my leaving.

The doorbell rang. I heard people rustling around and then Farah yell out, "Dad!"

A minute later, Mom came into Sarah's room. Her voice was quiet. "Farah's leaving. Her dad's here. Come on out and say good-bye."

"I don't want to."

Mom studied my face. "Well, I'm asking you to. It's the polite thing to do. Come on, it will only take a second."

I dragged my feet down the hallway. When I walked into the living room, there was Farah's dad, hugging her with tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't know." He coughed roughly. Looking at my parents, he said, "The retreat was in a rustic lodge way outside of Chicago. Phone reception was deplorable for this day and age. Most of us unplugged. I didn't even know you'd been calling me."

"It doesn't matter now," my dad said. "You're back. We were glad to have her."

"But it does matter. I'm sorry. Farah, get your things and we'll get out of these people's hair."

Farah let go of her dad. She came towards me, her eyes drilling into mine. There was a question there, and I saw desperation. She wanted me to forgive her, to forget it ever happened. Like always.

"Okay, Dad," she said, but she kept staring at me until she brushed past and headed to my bedroom.

"Emili, thank you for helping her," Mr. Menins said.

I nodded.

"And Mrs. Jones, I can't think you enough," he continued.

Farah came back into the room. She walked up to me, her shoulders sagging. "I'm not going to get my fairy tale, am I?"

"No."

"I'll call you," she said.

Everyone looked at me. Sarah was watching, her eyes huge. The silence was too long. It echoed around the room.

"Yeah," I finally said.

But not one cell in my body was interested in ever talking to her again.

When they left, the house was oddly quiet. I wandered back to my bedroom and began to re-organize my dresser, which was stupid because for once, Farah hadn't thrown her bag on my perfume knocking it all over.

It didn't need organizing. Even so, I picked up every bottle, wiped each one with the edge of my sleeve, and placed them again in order by height.

Sat.u.r.day was calm. Farah texted twice, which I found unbelievable. I didn't answer. My phone became silent. At 1:00 in the afternoon, I heard the doorbell. I steeled myself, figuring it was her. When Sarah called for me, I wasn't even surprised.

I walked out to the living room ready to tell Farah again in no uncertain terms we were over and I didn't want to talk to her. But there in front of me stood Marc.

"Marc!"

He grinned. "You weren't expecting me, were you?"

"Um, no."

"I wasn't going to come over, but then I realized I wanted to."

"Okay." I was stunned. "Want to sit down?"

"No," he answered. "I came over in person to wish you good luck at public school."

"I still have a couple more days at Bates."

"I know, but I figured you'd be busy. I wanted to come. It's okay, isn't it?"

Marc Rounder was one of the nicest people I knew. Why had I been such a blind jerk when he was my boyfriend?

"Aren't you with Jeannie now?"

"She's nice. We kind of were together and we did try. Well, she tried harder than I did. It was no good. In the end, we both knew it. Over before it began."

He took a step closer to me. I could feel the tenderness radiating from him. My tears started. I hurriedly brushed them away.