I started toward the lunch line, then stopped and quickly walked out. The way my stomach was churning and churning, I couldn’t dare put any food in it. It would just come back up, and the thought of regurgitating in front of my classmates, especially the girls who were already enjoying a good laugh at my expense, was terrifying.
I went directly to the nurse’s office and told her I was feeling very nauseated. She had me lie down and took my temperature. I wasn’t running a fever, but it wasn’t difficult for her to see that I was in no condition to continue with my classes.
“I’ll let your mother know,” she said.
“I could just walk home, Mrs. Morris,” I said, but she wouldn’t hear of it.
“There are insurance regulations,” she explained. “I can’t simply turn you out on the street.”
That expression made me wince. Wasn’t that what my father had done, turn Roxy out on the street? What were his insurance obligations? Mrs. Morris put a cool cloth on my forehead, and I closed my eyes to wait for Mama. Now I was really feeling terrible. She would surely come in a bit of a panic. I hoped she wouldn’t call Papa.
I nearly fell asleep, but when she came into the nurse’s office, my eyes popped open as I felt her hand on my forehead.
“I’ve taken her temperature. She has no fever. If it’s a virus, there might not be a fever,” Mrs. Morris told her. “How are you now, Emmie?”
“Better,” I said. “Just tired.”
“I have a taxi outside,” Mama said.
“I could walk home, Mama.”
“Get your things,” she said firmly. There would be no discussion about it.
“Don’t worry about your schoolwork. I’ll inform your teachers, Emmie,” Mrs. Morris told me.
I picked up my books and followed Mama out. She put her hand on my shoulder to stop me as soon as we were alone.
“What is it, Emmie?” she asked. “Why aren’t you feeling well?”
I shook my head, but my tears were determined to run freely down my cheeks. She moved me along faster. I didn’t look back when I heard the bell to change classes. Moments later, we were in the taxi and on our way home. I curled up against the rear door and closed my eyes. I didn’t want to talk.
Mama was too good at reading me, anyway. The moment we entered the house, she stopped and turned to me. “Something happened between you and Evan Styles? Is that it?”
I nodded. There was no point in trying to come up with a false reason.
“What?” she asked.
“He found out about Roxy,” I said, and hurried up to my bedroom. When I got there, I threw myself facedown on the bed. I heard her behind me.
“I don’t understand, Emmie. Why should that matter to him?”
I turned and looked at her. “I never told him about her.”
“Of course not. I understand.”
“My best friend apparently told the other girls, and one of the mothers called his mother to tell her. His father is running for Congress, remember? No scandals are permitted, and I’m a potential scandal. I have a sister who is a professional . . . escort.”
“Oh,” Mama said. She brought her right hand to her face.
The realization that her older daughter was a scandalous person didn’t come as any surprise, perhaps, but facing it did. It was the same as saying that the little girl she had conceived was not fit to walk the earth, but it was not only that. Maybe Roxy could contaminate the rest of us, especially me. Whatever faults Mama had found with herself or whatever reasons she had come to blame herself for Roxy’s behavior were now compounded by what was happening to me. That was her fault, too, if Roxy was.
“We can’t tell your father,” she said quickly. “I’m glad I didn’t call him when the school called me.”
I looked up quickly. “What will I tell him when he sees that Evan isn’t calling or coming over anymore?”
“I don’t know. We’ll think of something, but if he heard this, it would be like tearing off a scab, reopening a wound. Comprenez?”
“Oui, Mama.”