Slow Burn (42 page)

I don’t know what time it is.  We’ve been sitting in the waiting room for hours.  The sun is up, and with it comes terrible news.  Michelle lost the baby.  She
went into full blown labor so quickly, and since she wasn’t far enough along in her pregnancy, there was little they could do.

Dad and I huddle together on a pastel flowered couch.
  Two of Michelle’s best friends are there, both devastated and hugely pregnant(!).  They only know that the baby was a girl, and that she was born sleeping.  We haven’t seen Michelle yet, just a very pale Uncle Derek, for a couple of minutes when he came out to tell us about Michelle’s condition.

Tears keep coursing down my cheeks.  I brush them away absently as I shiver in my hoodie and pajama pants.  I am just…stunned.  It’s not fair, damn it.  It’s not fair!  Michelle’s such a great person—she wan
ted to be a mother so badly, then when it finally happens…oh, god, poor Michelle.  I can’t even imagine how she’s feeling right now.  God, I don’t want to.

Dad and I go down to the cafeteria around nine to get some breakfast, and when we come back,
Michelle’s friends are gone, and Derek is waiting for us.  He says we can see Michelle for a little while, and we follow him through a set of automatic doors that a nurse opens for us.

She’
s in a private room, pretty and cheerful, done in shades of mauve.  She looks so small and broken in the hospital bed—and the expression on her face…my heart breaks for her.

“Oh, Michelle.”  I touch her leg, covered by a scratchy-feeling blanket.

Her eyes are like twin caves of despair.  “It’s because I wanted it so much!” she sobs. 

There is absolutely nothing we can do to make this better.  We can only hold on to each other and cry with her. 
It’s the worst moment of my life.

We go home after that.  Someone is co
ming to talk to them about what happens next, though I don’t think Michelle is in any shape to deal with any of that.  Uncle Derek promises to call if they need anything, and there’s nothing left to do but go home and wait for updates. 

I try to go back to sleep, but I can’t stop thinking about the tiny little cousin I’ll never get to meet.  She’ll never know how much she was loved and wanted,
never know what her parents went through to bring her into the world—only to lose her before she could begin. 

It’s not fair.  It is so epically unfair, I can’t accept it.  I don’t know what to do…I don’t know how to help
—what am I suppose to say?! 

God, Michelle…I’m so, so sorry.

I tell Mom about
Michelle’s loss, and she promises to send her flowers.  I was thinking she’d call her, because at one time, the two of them had been very close.  But Mom says she’d feel awkward about calling her now, after years of not speaking to each other.  I guess Michelle probably wouldn’t feel like talking, anyway.

I send my aunt a text, just to say I’m thinking of her, and anytime she wants to talk, I’ll be there to listen.  I do
n’t get anything back, but I don’t expect to.

Uncle Derek calls me as I’m walking to my
car after school.  He asks if I can help pack up all the baby stuff for the charitable donations truck that’s coming by to pick it up that evening.  He wants all of it gone before Michelle comes home.

“She doesn’t want to see anything that will remind her of the baby,”
Derek says.  “I know it’s short notice, but she doesn’t want anyone else in there.  With Lisa and Andie being pregnant…”

“No—I understand.  Whatever you need, Uncle Derek.  I can head there right now
,” I reassure him quickly, eager to do something for them.

“Thanks, honey.”  He pauses.  “We were going to name her Eleanor Lily—after my mother.”

His voice breaks, and all I can do is cry along with him.

A
fter I hang up with Uncle Derek, I call Kathy to let her know I won’t be coming in tonight.  After I explain the situation, she assures me she’ll make do without me, and sends her thoughts and prayers with my family.  Then I call Heather, and she immediately agrees to help.

Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m texting Dean, asking him to come, too.
  He calls me back right away, and says he’ll pick us up in twenty minutes.

Turns out, it’s a good thing he came.  I didn’t realize how much stuff Michelle bought already.  The nursery is fully-furnished, and then some
, spilling out into the rest of the house.  The crib, bassinet, and other baby furniture are already set up, little outfits already hanging in the nursery closet.  The pink polka dot dress is in there!  Did she know she was having a girl, or was she just hoping?

Poor Michelle.  I remember her telling me she knew she shouldn’t be buying baby stuff yet, but she just couldn’t help herself.  She had waited for so long.

The house feels haunted as Heather and I carefully fold the tiny clothes and put them in shopping bags.  We’re both crying our eyes out.  Dean is silent and efficient, moving all the heavy stuff out to the driveway.

It’s an absolutely horrible day, and I’ve never been more grateful for my friends.  I give Heather a huge squishy hug, which she reciprocates
, holding me tightly.  But when I go in to hug Dean, he actually backs away.  So I end up patting the air where his arm just was.  Oh, well.

We get almost a whole week off for Thanksgiving break.  Most of my friends are going out of town—including Heather, who invites me to the Jones family Thanksgiving bash at Disneyland.  I’d love to go with her, but Mom and I are spending Thanksgiving at Grandma’s house—the usual tradition since my parents split up years ago.

To my surprise, Aunt Jo joins us for dinner this year.  That’s how I find out about the fire in Mr. Rigby’s office at school. 

“Fortunately, there wasn’t much damage,” Aunt Jo is saying grimly.  “Someone poured some type of accelerant over Cal’s desk.  Fortunately, it wasn’t enough to light the whole thing on fire, and it extinguished on its own.  Still, this is the last straw.  I’ve spoken with the board, and they agree.  CCTV will be installed over the break.”

She looks defiantly at me, but I continue to stuff my face with Charlie’s (Grandma’s excellent cook of fifteen years) delicious stuffing. 
I personally don’t care.  It’s not like they’re going to catch me having sex on their surveillance video—Ben and Arianna, probably, but then they’re just asking for it with the public places they decide to hook up at.  They’re going to be so pissed…I don’t want to think about the drama that will ensue when everyone finds out.

We’re back at school, and the protests have begun—and even some of the teachers join in with the students against what they consider a violation of privacy.  Ben masterminds half the demonstrations, staying behind the scenes, of course, so he doesn’t get in trouble.  I wonder if I’ll still know him when he becomes an underground kingpin.  I kind of hope so.  In unrelated news, he confides to me that he’s been cheating on Arianna with a foreign exchange student named Katerinka.  I really don’t know what to do with that information, and I really wish he hadn’t told me.  There might have been a time when I would have thought Arianna deserved it.  Now I kind of want to smack some sense into Ben’s blonde head.

Heather and I spend the next week working on our college applications.  I’m applying to seven different places—Heather, two.  Her first choice has always been UNLV, and I question where NYU came from.  She’s never expressed a desire to live on the east coast.

“What?” she says airily, clicking her pen.  “Who doesn’t want to live in New York?  It’s exciting, and different—and far away from my parents.”

I narrow my eyes at her.  “Sloane’s going there, isn’t she?”

Heather grins like
an idiot.  “Maaaybe,” she drawls out.

“Oh, Heather,” I groan, putting my notebook over my face to hide my expression.

Laughing at me, she starts singing at the top of lungs about how someday her princess will come.  Groping around on the carpet, I find something soft and squishy.  A marshmallow.  I throw it at her.  She sings even louder.

“Stop!  My brain!”  Laughing, I clap my hands over my ears.

Heather throws herself on her bed, spread-eagled.  “I’m in loooove, Jule!” she announces—as if it wasn’t obvious.

I’m glad she’s not facing me, and can’t see the worried frown I’m wearing.
  I can’t help it.  I don’t trust Sloane, and I’m not convinced she’s as into Heather as Heather would like to believe she is.

“So is she taking to you to the dance on Friday?” I ask in what I hope is a casual tone.

“Nope.”  She rolls over onto her stomach.  “We’re going to a party.”

“Whose party?”

Heather hesitates.  She looks away from me with a shrug.  “Misha’s.”

I sit up straight and give her the beady eye.  “Misha Compton, or drug dealer Misha?”
 

She
faces me again, rolling her eyes.  “You don’t know he’s a drug dealer for sure.  Those were just rumors.”

“You’re the one who told me he is!  Damn it, I knew!  I knew Sloane was going to use you to get drugs—”

“Just stop, Jule.”  Heather cuts me off, her tone unexpectedly furious.  “Why do you always think the worst?  Has it ever occurred to you that Sloane likes me for me, and not what I can do for her?  Shit, it’s just a party!  Yeah, there might be drugs there, and there’s probably going to be alcohol, too—like ninety percent of the parties we go to.  So what?  I don’t do drugs, you know that.”

“
Okay, yeah, but Heather, you know Misha’s trouble.  You know the guys he hangs out with—they’re trash!”

“Trash?”  She smirks at me.  “You know, ever since you started going to Leclare, you’ve become a huge snob.  You used to go to school with the ‘trash.’”

“Oh, come on!”  I gesture impatiently.  “You know they’re trash, too.  You would never go—”

“Drop it, Jule.”

“But—”

“I said drop it.  I’m a big girl, and I’m not talking about this with you.”

Heather’s face becomes closed off, and I have to bite my lip.  She won’t even look at me now.

Every time I try to broach the subject after that, she cuts me off. 
I keep telling myself that like Heather said, it’s just a party.  We’ve been to parties where people were doing drugs—we just always avoided those guys.  But Misha is different.  He has a really bad rep at Jefferson, and I’ve seen him hanging with some truly scary individuals  I have a really bad feeling about the party on Friday.  I just know something terrible is going to happen.

******

Chapter 35

I’m so distracted at work, I can barely function.  Tonight’s the party.  I keep texting Heather, telling her not to go.  At first, she tells me not to worry—then she just ignores me.  Great, I pissed her off.   Now she won’t give me updates.

I can’t shake this sense of unease.  At home, I pace back and forth.  Finally, I decide to go to the party myself.  If I notice the slightest hint of trouble, I’ll just call 911.  Relieved to have some kind of plan, I spur into action.  I get Misha’s address from Tamara, whose friends with one of Misha’s ex-girlfriends.  I search for directions on my phone while practically running out the door.  I just hope I don’t get into an accident on the way there—it’s so dark out!

While I’m getting gas
(I have to, I’m on empty), I spot a familiar blue truck pull up at the pump behind me.  The gum I’m chewing falls out of my mouth when Johnny gets out from the driver’s side.  I notice there’s a girl in the passenger seat—it’s too dark in the truck to make out her features.  I quickly look away.

“Hey, you,” Johnny says, coming up to me.  “What are you doing, driving at night?”

“H-hi,” I stutter, fumbling with my bank card.  “Um, nothing.  Just getting some gas.”

“You never
drive at night.  What’s up?”

I just shrug.  Seeing
my furtive expression, he moves closer to me, bending down so he can see my face.  “Hey, Teeny, what’s wrong?”

I throw a quick glance at the girl in Johnny’s truck.  I can’t be sure, but I think she’s watching us.  Turning away from him, I make my voice brisk.  “I’m fine.”

In one lightning fast move, he’s got me trapped against the side of my car.  He tips my chin up with two fingers.  “What’s wrong?” he asks again, gently.

I
don’t know if it’s the panic growing inside of me, or the concern in his cerulean blue eyes—it breaks me, and I tell him everything.

As he listens, the muscles in his arms and chest become more and more tense.  When I stop for breath, he pushes away from
me.

“
You were going to just walk into a known drug dealer’s house by yourself?” he growls incredulously.  “That’s incredibly stupid!”

“I was only going to stay long enough to find Heather and Sloane,” I say defensively
.

“Damn it, Teeny…”  Johnny runs both hand through his hair in frustration.  “Why didn’t you call me?”  When I give him a look of disbelief, he amends, “Why didn’t you call somebody? 
Nick or…Dean?  You two seem really tight lately.”