Page 85 of Lance

Simon cried this morning when Lance told him it was time to go. And even though we both assured him it was just for a few days, that Lance had to go for work but he would be back soon and that I would stay with him, Simon still didn’t calm down. In the end Lance had to pry his little arms from around his knees in order to leave thehouse.

I swallow past the lump in my throat and stir my ice cream, not reallyhungry.

“It was a bad fight, huh?” Nia asks, watching my faceclosely.

I snort. “You could say that.” I sigh, setting the ice cream on the coffee table, knowing I won’t be able to bring myself to eat. “I just feel sostupid.”

“What do you have to feel stupidabout?”

I don’t look at her. Nia would never say “I told you so,” but she might think it. And I don’t want to see that in her eyes. “I built up this whole idea of who Lance Foster is because I’ve always had a crush on him. But I didn’t really know him, Nia. Not atall.”

She’s quiet for a moment. “He’s really going to do this?” she asks. “He’s really going to just…give Simon to thatwoman?”

I shrug. “I don’tknow.”

“This doesn’t seem like him.” She shakes her head. “I mean, I don’t know him as well as you do, obviously, but he doesn’t seem like he’s thatheartless.”

The worst part is that in spite of everything, I agree with her. Idon’tbelieve Lance is heartless. And I don’t believe he cares so little aboutSimon.

Am I just delusional? Am I still caught up in my fantasy ofhim?

In my head I see Simon’s tear-stained face, his arms clutching Lance’s legs, asking him not to leave. And Lance’s expression, his refusal to meet my eyes. The guilt and shame in every line and shadow of hisface.

Is it possible he’s just scared? Scared and doubting himself and about to make a hugemistake?

“I just don’t know,” I mutter, covering myeyes.

Nia’s spoon scrapes the bottom of her bowl and I hear her set it on the table. “Not to be insensitive to your trauma,” she says, “but if you’re not going to eat this, canI?”

I actually manage to laugh, just a little. “Go forit.”

I open my eyes to see her settling back into the couch, my abandoned bowl of ice cream in her hands. “Okay, let’s focus on the other part of this fight you had for a minute,” shesays.

I narrow my eyes. “You mean the part where he called me acoward?”

She points her spoon at me. “Bingo.”

“What aboutit?”

“You said you didn’t really have an answer for that.” She watches me over her bowl as she takes another bite and swallows. When I still haven’t answered she sighs a little. “So I’m just wondering what you’rethinking.”

“Well, it’s bullshit, obviously.” But I can feel a flush coming to mycheeks.

“Looks like it hithome.”

I frown. I don’t really like the way she’s looking at me. “There’s nothing wrong with taking time offschool.”

“Agreed.”

“Or with wanting to explore myoptions.”

“Alsoagreed.”

I glare at her. “Then why do I get the feeling you’re not on my sidehere?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’m always on your side.” She licks her spoon, not meeting my eyes. “I just wonder if maybe he does have apoint.”

“What?”