This Place

Seven East Lake: Emma

"Where have you been?"

As soon as Emma opened the front door, Liam had pounced. He wanted to know exactly where she'd been, who she'd been with, and wondered who in the world she thought she was to come home so late in the night in the middle of a school week.

Emma mused that he had all the breath for saying that from football, and a bit of swimming as well. He sure could talk a lot without taking a single gulp of air.

"Emma, are you listening to me? Emma?"

"What? Oh yeah, sure I was. I was with Ella. We went to the mall." Why did he insist on making her lie to him? If he didn't ask, she wouldn't have to be dishonest.

That's twisted logic and you know it. Emma sighed. She was still on a high from her outing with James. Just thinking of him made something indescribable course through her blood, reaching every inch of her. And nothing could bring her down, but Liam's endless questioning was making her feel the tiniest bit guilty.

He'd freak if he knew. And all he needs to be concerned with right now is the game. It's only six days away... It's for his own good.

Emma still felt somewhat bad, but tendrils of annoyance were beginning to creep in. Didn't he trust her? She'd never done anything crazy before... that he knew about, at least. As he continued to badger her, Emma grew increasingly frustrated.

"I was with Ella, okay? Am I really so untrustworthy that you doubt every move I make? And what are you, my dad? Quit prying."

As soon as she saw the flash of hurt in his eyes she regretted her sharp tongue. But just as quickly, they hardened. "No, but your dad doesn't care enough to watch out for you. I do. So sue me," Liam snapped and spun angrily on his heel.

Another wave of guilt crashed into her. He was the only true family she had. And vice versa. He only wanted to look out for her, and it really wasn't his fault that he had landed that job. It was their parents'.

Emma sighed, and slowly trudged up the stairs toward her room, fingers trailing the banister's smooth finish. Why did she always seem to mess everything up?

Her earlier elation had disappeared, and no matter how deep she dug, she couldn't find it within herself herself again. Great. Should she go apologize?

Forget it. Just talk to him later. Emma stepped into her room, feeling instantly comforted. The pale lavender walls calmed her, as they'd done for years, and her royal purple curtains swayed gently from the cold air seeping in through her cracked window.

Sighing softly, Emma sat at her desk and grabbed a textbook out of her backpack. Yawn. Who wanted to read about the Quakers, anyway? She'd way rather be flipping through her copy of Jane Eyre. But oh well. Homework was homework, and she need to get started.

***

A few hours later, she had finished the brunt of her work and was practically half asleep over her reading and essay on the peace-loving men and top hats and was completely drained.

Liam, Emma knew, was still pissed. And hour earlier, he'd sent a brief text telling her she could either get up in five hours to catch a ride with him or get seven hours and take the bus.

Her brain was absolutely and completely fried, so truly the "choice" was not a choice at all. But it felt like only seconds later when Emma woke up to Liam backing out of the driveway. She took this opportunity to check the time and, realizing she still had another two hours left, promptly closed her eyes and was out like a light.

But soon enough, Emma was dragging herself out of bed with a pained groan. But soon, the events of last night came rushing back to her and she smiled widely.