The Ordinary Life of Emily P. Bates (6 page)

But, day after day Ethan and I did our homework together without incident. Sometimes we went to Rick’s, but usually we just hung around at the picnic tables at the school to do it. On the days that I usually took Finn to work after school, we did our work at the library instead. Shannon and Margo joined our group from time to time when the assignment was particularly difficult, but Finn never did. He’d never had any problems getting his homework done, and he usually just did it while he was at work anyway.

We didn’t just stick to math, either. I quizzed Ethan on his
Spanish
vocabulary, and he helped me edit my Lit assignments. It was nice to have a reliable study partner for a change. Shannon had never been any good. She, like her brother, generally didn’t need help with her homework. More often than not, she’d get frustrated with my slow progress and just give up on me.

Ethan, on the other hand, was incredibly patient. He and I didn’t exactly have as much to say to each other as Shannon and I did, but he was easy to get along with. It certainly didn’t help matters that my stomach did a little flip flop every time Ethan grinned that stupid grin of his. It frustrated me a little more every time we parted ways and he still had not asked to get together outside of our educational endeavors. He didn’t even bring up watching that Monty Python movie again.

Shannon was not to be deterred. “You’ll see. It’s just a matter of time.”

I forced myself to ignore her.

              Mom spent most of August in the bathroom with her head in the toilet. I felt really bad for her, but there was nothing either Aaron or I could really do for her. I went to her doctor’s appointment with her as promised, but it wasn’t really that exciting. We sat in the waiting room for an hour while I filled out Mom’s paperwork for her. She was looking decidedly green, but managed not to throw up the whole time we were there.

              “I’m so glad you came, Em,” she said in a breathless voice as we walked out to the parking lot an hour later. I hitched her purse higher on my shoulder. “I don’t think I could have handled all of this nonsense alone.”

              “No bad news then?”

              “None yet. Just one baby, and everything looks good so far. Due March 10
th
.”

              “Oh, crap. There’s still a while to go.”

              She sighed. “Yeah. But hopefully this nausea will end soon.”

              “How long is it supposed to last?” I climbed into the driver’s side of our family Volvo while she settled into the passenger seat.

              “Just three months. I’ve got another appointment in November for the ultrasound.”

              “Do you want to know the sex?” I asked. “Does Dad?”

              She shrugged. “Probably not. We didn’t find out with you or Aaron.”

              “But wouldn’t it be easier to plan?”

              “What’s to plan? We’ve already got your old stuff in the attic if it’s a girl, and we can use your brother’s baby stuff if it’s a boy. We’re covered.” She sighed and settled back into the seat while we drove through town. “Do you have any plans tonight?” she asked.

“No,” I replied with a sigh. “Do I ever?”

“I guess not.”

              “Oh, wait. I have to go to the library today. I have to pick a poet for a paper in Lit.”

              “Mmm. Which poet do you think you’ll choose?”

              “Probably Shel Silverstein.”

              She smiled. “Oh yes, Mr. Silverstein. That’s a good one.”

              “
He’s the only one I understand
.”

              “Me, too.”

              I didn’t even get out of the car when I dropped Mom off at the house. Instead I went straight to the library to see if they had any Silverstein books. If not, then I’d stop by Martin’s Books and just buy a copy. It was worth the twelve dollars.

              I was able to find a parking spot right in front of the library today, so I didn’t have to spend much time at all in the unbearable heat. It hadn’t rained once all August, and everything had turned brown. Even the trees, though still green, looked a little dried out and tired. Heat waves rolled off of the pavement and baked my skin from the underside.

              “Hey Finn,” I called as I pushed through the heavy front door.

He looked up from the computer behind the front counter. “Hey. What are you up to today?”

              “I just need a book. Do you have any Shel Silverstein?”

              “Yeah. Is that who you chose for that comprehensive essay?”

              “Yup. Who’d you pick?”

              “Haven’t yet.” He grimaced at the monitor. “I’ve been fighting with this stupid computer since I got here. It keeps freezing up on me.” He sighed and sat back in his desk chair. “There’s a poetry section upstairs in the back,” he said, gesturing towards the spiral staircase. “You shouldn’t have a problem finding what you need.”

              “Thanks.”

I found the poetry section in the back corner near a narrow window that looked out over the street. I shook my head in disbelief. Even from up here I could see the heat shimmers rising off of the pavement.

              The poetry section wasn’t large, but they seemed to carry all of the important authors. There were a few generic collections boasting Robert Frost, William Butler Yeats, and T. S. Eliot on a display rack. I ignored these and starting scanning the S section near the bottom. After a few seconds, I reached the last book and had to start at the top shelf of the next book case. There, right at the top, I spotted Silverstein’s name.
Where the Sidewalk Ends
. Perfect.

              I reached, but my fingertips barely brushed the shelf two feet below the one I wanted. I glanced around quickly and spotted a wobbly old footstool, which I dragged over to the shelf I needed. Even with it, I had to stretch to reach the book I was aiming for. It was wedged into the shelf so tightly that I had to yank on it to dislodge it from its place.

              Dust flew into my face as I groped at the old books. I felt the sneeze coming on, but I ignored it. I almost had the book out now.

              I managed to tug the book loose in the exact same instant that the thunderous sneeze rocketed out of my nose. It wasn’t much, but it was just enough to make me lose my balance and slip backwards off of the low footstool.

              Those three measly little extra feet completely undid me. Hours passed in an instant as I plummeted toward the ground. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I thought of the book that was falling with me and mourned the damage that I had just caused with my clumsiness. The impact would probably tear the binding in two.

On instinct I reached around with my left hand to break my fall, but things ended up working out the other way around. As the heel of my hand made contact with the floor, a sharp
POP
rang through the air. In the very next instant my head slammed into the floor as well.

If I’d had any time at all to realize what that popping sound had been, I might have vomited everywhere. Fortunately I blacked out first.

Five

“Emily! Oh my God. Emily, wake up!”

Cool hands were on my face, my forehead. It felt good against my pounding head so I didn’t move. Some unknown force in my body told me that if I moved, I would wake up. If I woke up, then I’d have to deal with not only the wracking pain in my body, but the absolute stupidity of what I had done to land myself on the floor in the first place. There was a funny, metallic taste in my mouth, but I couldn’t place it. If only I could just keep from coming to…

But it was too late. I was already awake.

“Emily! Are you okay? What happened?” Finn’s barrage of questions hammered through my head the instant I opened my eyes.

“I fell down,” I said thickly. “What does it look like?” It felt like I’d bitten my now swollen tongue and it was difficult to speak. A cough choked its way out of my throat and I groaned.

Finn didn’t laugh at my feeble attempt at light heartedness. I coughed again, covering my mouth with my good hand this time. It came away bloody. All right, so I had
seriously
bitten my tongue. That certainly explained the funny taste in my mouth.

“Oh my God! You’re coughing up blood!”

“It’s okay.” I groaned, closing my eyes again. “It’s just my tongue.”

“Is anything else broken? Can you move? Wiggle your toes.”

My toes wiggled obediently, though he couldn’t see them through my dirty tennis shoes. “Just my arm, I think.”

“I’m taking you to the emergency room,” he said. “Where are your keys?”

“In my bag behind the counter downstairs.” He put a hand behind my back and helped me to sit up, and then stand. Shooting pains ran up my left arm. It felt like there were several rusty knives and forks jammed into my arm. I wobbled on my feet and Finn gripped me tighter around my waist.

“Are you gonna pass out again?” he asked.

“I dunno.” I cradled my left arm and leaned into Finn for balance. My head was reeling. It was a good thing he was so tall. He had no problems supporting me.

“Here,” he said. He bent over double and my feet were suddenly swept out from under me. He had picked me up as if I weighed no more than a feather pillow.

“Ow!” I yelped as my arm was jostled. The pain caused the world to come back into focus. “Warning next time!”

“Sorry.” He carried me down the stairs and stood me on my feet long enough to fish my keys out of my bag. I was vaguely aware of two old ladies with wide eyes staring at me from beside the magazine rack.

“Are you okay, honey?” one of them said in a wheezy voice.

I just looked at her, suddenly confused.

“Warning,” Finn said.

“What?”

He swept me back into his arms and my left wrist was jostled again. I dug my forehead into his shoulder and grunted in pain, clutching at my arm in an attempt to stabilize it. He backed out through the door into the amazing heat that only seemed to make the pain in my arm and head even worse. He sat me carefully down in the front seat of my car. I was instantly coated in sweat and the hot seat burned the back of my legs.

“Wait here,” he said. “I have to make a quick call.” He slammed my car door shut and dashed back inside the library.

“Finn! Who-?” He was gone long before I said anything at all. My head fell back against the headrest and I forced myself to swallow. My whole left side was aching now and a fantastic purple bruise was spreading all across my forearm. It didn’t help that I was practically suffocating in the heat inside the car.

Two minutes later, Finn reappeared. He herded the two very disgruntled old ladies out in front of him and locked the library door behind them. They were shouting something at Finn, but he ignored them. He dashed back to the car. “How ya doin’?” he asked as he started up the engine.

“Peachy. Who’d you call?”

“Bill so he could come and open the library back up, and your mom.”

“Oh hell.” My mom. I had forgotten about her. “She is going to freak out.”

“She already is.”

It took four hours–four
freaking
hours. First, they had to examine my head and my reflexes and everything stupid like that. Then I had to wait for an hour with Finn and my mom (who had shown up almost immediately) before they could squeeze me in for an X-Ray. She was going completely berserk for a full fifteen minutes before Finn finally had to yell at her to calm down.

And by yell, I mean literally
yell
. He actually took a hold of my mother’s arms and hollered, “Get a hold of yourself, woman! She’s gonna live!”

“I just fell off of a stool, Mom,” I said as she stared wide eyed at Finn. She had never been yelled at by a teen before. “I’m going to survive. I promise.”

“You’d better, so help me,” she said, gripping my right hand. “What is your father going to say?”

“He’ll give me an 8.9 for difficulty and a 9.6 for execution.”

“That is not funny, Emily Prudence Bates.”

“She’s right, Em,” Finn said seriously. “There’s no way you’d get more than a 6.”

I smiled.

Monday at school, I tried my best to avoid eye contact with everyone. They were all staring at the hulking, blindingly white cast on my left arm, and all I wanted to do was rip it off and scratch like crazy. I hurried over to our usual table where Margo and Shannon were already deep in conversation. Finn pushed a paper bowl of French toast sticks at me as I sat down, then he pulled my immobilized left arm across the table without so much as a by-your-leave.

“Ow!” I complained.

“Don’t resist and it won’t hurt so bad.”

Shannon looked up and laughed as I sat down. “Only you, Emily.”

“What?”

“Only you could manage to break your arm in three places and give yourself a concussion just by falling down!”

“Only two places,” I said.

Margo chuckled a little, too, as she picked at her chocolate doughnut.

“What did you
do
?” We all turned to find Ethan rushing toward the vacant seat next to Finn, who was now scribbling something on my cast with a blue permanent marker.

“I fell,” I said. “I fell down and broke my arm. Don’t laugh at me.”

“In three places,” Shannon said.

“Two!” I corrected again.

“And gave herself a concussion,” Margo added. I glared at her.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Does it hurt?”

I shrugged. “A little. My head aches some and I have to wear this stupid thing for eight weeks. What
are
you tattooing on my cast?”

Finn didn’t look up. “Almost done. Don’t move or it’ll look dumb.”

“It’ll look dumb anyway,” Shannon said.

“I think it’s nice,” Margo said with a smile. “Spice things up a bit, you know?”

“Sure,” I said. I leaned forward in an attempt to see Finn’s handiwork, but he kept it shielded with his other arm.

“It’s a good thing you’re not left handed.” Ethan twirled a pencil between his fingers. “Hey, did you figure out that last question on the math assignment?”

“Of course not,” I said. “I have no idea how to handle a word problem. Why can’t they just give us an equation and let us solve it?”

“Because Mr. Yarsden hates you,” Shannon mumbled. She was rifling through her bag for a pen. I rolled my eyes and looked away. Shannon was obviously not having a good day today for lord knew why.

“There,” Finn said triumphantly. “A tribute to your fatal fall
and
a good life lesson.”

I turned my arm so that we could all read the short poem that he had jotted onto the rough plaster.

Reflection

Each time I see the Upside-Down Man
Standing in the water,
I look at him and start to laugh,
Although I shouldn't oughtter.
For maybe in another world
Another time
Another town,
Maybe HE is right side up
And I am upside down.

                            -Shel Silverstein

I laughed. “That’s awesome! Thanks.”

“No problem. It was my mom’s favorite one.”

“Yeah, it was,” Shannon said with a nostalgic smile.

I frowned, unsure of what to say to that. The twins’ mother had always been an uncomfortable subject for me. She had died of breast cancer just before they’d moved to St. John so I’d never met her. I tried to think of something to say, but nothing came. Nothing ever came in a situation like that.

“Oh, I’ve got one!” Shannon cried, reaching for Finn’s marker. I breathed a sigh of relief, grateful that Shannon had changed the subject so quickly. I held out my hand to her so that she wouldn’t yank on it like Finn had done.

I barely had time to read the words, “Never try to teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and it annoys the pig. –Unknown,” before Ethan was pulling my arm across the table to add his little insights. I tried very hard not to notice that my fingers were pressed against his chest while he scribbled his quote, but I couldn’t repress the flush. Shannon had to have seen it. I could almost hear the gears turning in her head as she watched my face get redder and redder.

“There,” he said, then read: “’If you’re not sure if someone’s mad at you, just throw a rock at them. Then you’ll know.’”

“Who said that?” I asked, grinning.

“I did, stupid.” He flashed his gleaming smile at me as the warning bell rang out over the cafeteria. “Hey, by the way, we never did get around to watching
The Meaning of Life
. You free tomorrow night?”

Oh great. Shannon and Margo had to be loving this. Even Finn was watching me curiously. “S-sure,” I said. “After school?”

“Tomorrow after supper,” he said. “I told my step mom I’d catch up on some chores before I did anything else.”

“Sure.” I tried to smile, but I’m not sure I pulled it off very well.

              The day passed uneventfully, and so did the next. Ethan was still acting the same as usual. He didn’t even sit with us at lunch on Tuesday. He sat with the basketball team, which he had fit right in with after the first week of school, and didn’t even glance in my direction the entire time. After school we sat at the picnic tables and wrestled a few word problems into submission, but he didn’t even mention our plans once except to confirm that I was going to show. He was just casual, easy-going Ethan. Same old, same old.

              Shouldn’t something have changed when he asked me out?

              “Are you seriously thinking about dating Cavanaugh?” Finn asked me suddenly before Lit class on Tuesday.

              “That’s not your business,” I said, my heart thumping.

              “Since when?”

              “Since forever.”

              He smirked. “Just because there was never anything for me to butt into doesn’t mean it’s not my business to do so whenever I please.”

              “Shut up.”

Ms. Walsh was at the marker board, copying out the quote for the day. I fished around for a pencil so I could copy it down, but couldn’t find one.

              “Not until you answer my question. Are you thinking about dating him?”

              “Maybe. What do you care? Loan me a pen.”

              He tossed his pen across the table toward me and produced a new one for himself. “Just curious. Shannon couldn’t shut up about the whole mess last night and I just wanted the inside scoop.”

              I stuck the end of
his
pen in my mouth absently and looked up. “What was she saying?”

              I never got my answer. Ms. Walsh cleared her throat and began class before Finn could even open his mouth. “Okay class. I want to begin by reminding you that your essays are due on Thursday. Don’t forget. Today we’re going to look at the similarities between T. S. Elliot and Langston Hughes. Then next week we’re going to move on to the short story. No more poetry!” This announcement was received with shouts of relief.

              After class, Finn and I trudged out toward the parking lot. “Emily Bates! You wait up for me!” We both turned to see Shannon sprinting towards us, her flaming hair streaming out behind her.

              “What.”

              “I am going home with you today,” she said.

              “Why?”

              “Because you have a date tonight, and you are going to be properly prepared for it. That’s why.”

              Finn laughed, obviously mocking me, but I scowled. “Oh come on, Shannon! Don’t you have better things to do than meddle in other people’s love lives? Why haven’t
you
had a date yet this semester? This must be some kind of record.”

              “Because as of right now, I am determined to get my friends a little action.”