The Lance Temptation by Brenda Maxfield Read Free Book Online Page B

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.
    â€œEmili!” Sarah yelled. “It’s for you.”
    â€œIs 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.
    â€œI’m sick.”
    â€œYou 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.
    â€œHey, 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.
    â€œYou’re not going to sit with me?” he asked, staring. He was shaking.
    â€œYeah, 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.”
    â€œI figured.”
    â€œWhat’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.
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œYou’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.
    He walked slowly, like his legs wouldn’t support him. Before he reached the entryway, he faced me again. His voice was soft. “Could you at least tell me why?”
    Looking at him, I felt like an idiot. This shouldn’t be happening. He was one of the nicest guys I knew. Smart. Nice. I swallowed again. Something sharp dug inside my chest.
    â€œI… well, I…”
    He raised his hand. “It’s okay, Emili. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t owe me any explanation. I get it.”
    â€œMarc, I’m sorry.”
    His eyes were shadowed. They reminded me of my dog Pumpkin’s eyes when she was hit by a car — full of pain and fear. I’d only been eight years old. When she died, my world stopped. I think I wailed for months. Then one day, my tears dried up. I never spoke of her again and never wanted a new dog. Now, watching Marc, every memory of Pumpkin ripped through my heart like it’d happened yesterday.
    But still, I said nothing.
    â€œDoes this have anything to do with Lance Jankins?”
    I gulped and swallowed. I stared at Marc, feeling helpless.
    He sighed, turned back to the door,