Page 93 of Intermission

Jenna groans. “The Geometry final was brutal.”

Since I’m on the AP track, I took the class last year, but I nod, knowing how Jenna has struggled all year. “Thanks for picking us up.”

“No problem.” Mrs. Slade meets my eyes in the rearview mirror. “And you’re staying for supper, right?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay. Mom said she’d pick me up at eight.”

“Good, good. That will give you guys plenty of time to study. And after tomorrow, you’ll officially be juniors.”

“Finally!” Jenna gives me a high five. “We’ll be upperclassmen at last!”

“I cleared off the dining room table so you two can spread out your stuff in there.” Inside the house, Mrs. Slade hangs her keys on a peg by the door. “Oh! I made cookies this afternoon. I’ll bring you guys a plate of them in a couple minutes.”

Jenna plops her book bag on the wood table with a sound that would send my mom scurrying for the scratch repair, if we were at my house. “What should we do first? History?”

“Sounds good. I made flashcards with battle dates on one side and the name and place on the other.”

“Of course you did.” Jenna rolls her eyes but grins. “And you probably color coded them, too, didn’t you?”

“No. Well, I wrote the names of the battles the Union won in blue pen and the Confederate wins in pencil, so they’re gray.”

“Nerd.”

I unzip my bag and root around. “Of course they’re at the bottom. Hang on.” I pull my books out, one by one, and stack them neatly on the table. The cards are in the bottom, and they’ve all come loose from last night’s neatly rubber-banded stack. I grab one handful then another...

“Oh, give it here.” Jenna yanks my bag out of my hands, turns it upside down, and shakes it, dumping the flashcards and the rest of the bag’s contents, including several pens, a bunch of random sticky notes, a few hairbands, a necklace I’d thought I’d lost, and...

Oh. No.

Right on top—because it must have fallen to the bottom of my bag all those months ago—is a little foil square.

“Here are the cookies, girls. I hope you like oatmeal chocolate chip, Faith. I didn’t—” Mrs. Slade goes silent. Her eyes widen. “Oh my heavens. Is that a...”

The look on her face is nothing less than shock, coated with a few shades of betrayal with a heavy dose ofI’m so disappointed in youthrown in.

“It’s not mine.” I sound like a little kid caught eating paste. My denial is true, but even I hear its false ring.

How could I have forgotten that was in my bag? And for so long?

“Really,” I say, desperate for them to believe me. “I’m not just saying that. It’snotmine. It’s Gretchen’s. She gave it to me, I mean.”

Both Jenna’s and her mother’s eyebrows rise.

“Not because I wanted it! I didn’taskfor it or anything! Gretchen was... Well, she was being Gretchen. I was going to throw it away a long time ago, but I guess I just forgot about it.”

Jenna doesn’t blush easily, but her cheeks are twin flames, matching her mom’s. If the floor could open up and swallow me right now, that would begrand.

Mrs. Slade opens her mouth and closes it several times before she finally sits down in the chair next to me.

“Faith, honey, I know you’ve been seeing one boy exclusively for quite a while now. And I know he’s older and probably more experienced—”

“He’s not like that. We haven’t done... anything like that. We wouldn’t.”

She nods, but it’s clear she doesn’t believe me.

“Your mother is concerned. She asked me to keep an eye out, but I didn’t think...” She sighs. “You and Jenna have been friends for so long. Sometimes I forget you’re not little girls anymore.” She clears her throat. “I’m sure you know we don’t believe teenagers should be sexually active. We’ve taught Jenna that sex is something that should be saved for marriage. But if you and Noah have, um, well... I hope this,” —she nods toward the condom—“means you’ve been careful and practiced safe—”

“Mo-omm!” Jenna breaks in, slapping her hands over her ears. “Stahhhhp. You know what Gretchen is like. Faith’s not like that. And Noah, geez. He’s a total prude about that stuff. If Faith was having sex, I would know about it. And she’s not.” She drops her hands, and even though her voice remains confident, when her eyes find mine, they hold the tiniest bit of doubt. “Right?”