Part Two

"Mom, you're joking, right? I'm pretty sure I've been to operas more entertaining." Lane crossed her arms as she stared back at her mother across the breakfast table.

"Lane, stop whining," Mrs. Martin chided as she poured milk into a bowl of cereal. "Madam Caroline only has two of these women's retreats every year, and you're going to go! A lot of the young girls look up to her, and she was kind enough to invite the two of us. It'll be a great opportunity for you to get to know some of the ladies at the church."

"Oh, please," Lane spat. "You can hardly call those old maids 'ladies,' Mom. Isn't Madam Caroline like eighty years old by now?"

Her mother glared at her. "She's thirty-four, Lane."

"In what? Dog years?"

"Lane Martin!"

"I'm just saying, Mom. Sitting around knitting with a bunch of has-beens wearing extensions doesn't sound—"

Mrs. Martin held up her hand for silence. "You're going to the retreat, and that's that. Now finish your cereal. School starts in thirty minutes."

"Oh, come on! Haven't you ever read any of her dumb articles in The EdgeWay Press? Madam Caroline is nothing but a—what was the word Pastor Hall used in his sermon last week?—a busybody! That's it! That's a Bible word, Mom! See? Even Jesus doesn't think what she's doing is good, and He loves everybody!"

"Lane..." Mrs. Martin sighed.

"Madam Caroline's a stupid busybody who'll talk my ear off all weekend! Are you seriously gonna make me spend the next three days playing bingo with a bunch of cat ladies who've already started meno—"

"ENOUGH!" Lane's mother finally screamed. "Do you ever get tired of whining like a pretentious five-year-old!?" She exhaled heavily and rested her forehead in her palm, exhausted. "I'm picking you up after school. The retreat starts at four, and I won't hear another word about it, Lane."

****

"I hate her. She's such a b—"

"Lane," GiGi interrupted, "Don't say that. Even if she is a jerk sometimes, she's still your mom..."

"GiGi, I don't care! Don't you know what tonight is?" Lane pouted as the two girls walked into the cafeteria together, the bell signaling lunchtime having just rung.

"How could I forget? You remind me every thirty minutes..."

"My mom can't do this to me!" Lane raged on as if GiGi hadn't spoken at all. "Tonight's the first basketball game of the season, and she wants me to spend it blabbering on with some wannabe Gossip Girl. I can't believe this! Sam is literally going to be the first one on the court, and I'm missing it!"

GiGi paused. "Wait, how do you know that? The part about Sam, I mean. I thought the starting lineup was top secret."

"He told me yesterday," Lane beamed. "I just happened to be by the gym after they finished practice, and Irina just happened to be with me..."

GiGi giggled. "You used my little sister as bait for Sam Irish?" she joked. "Isn't that a new low?"

"It's not like I kidnapped her." Lane waved her hand. "I bribed her—big difference."

GiGi rolled her eyes, laughing. "Let me guess. You bought her tropical skittles again?"

"You know me too well," Lane smiled at her briefly, then started pouting again.

"Lane, come on. Look, I know this really sucks, but maybe you'll make some new friends tonight."

"Fat chance." Lane frowned and stared wistfully around the lunchroom, where basketball season wall art hung and taunted her. "Stupid posters," she growled.

"Ouch," came a familiar voice.

Lane spun around. "Sam!? What are you doing here?"

He chuckled. "Getting lunch. It is the lunchroom, after all..."

"Right. Sorry...I just...I um..."

"You what? You hate my posters? Gosh, and here I thought me and the guys looked pretty suave." With one arm, he leaned against a wall next to the nearest poster, his baggy basketball jersey slumping past his waist.

Lane could feel her face flushing red. "No, th-that's not it," she stammered. "I just...my mom is forcing me go to this stupid women's retreat tonight, and I'm really mad she's making me miss the game."

"Oh," Sam's eyes fell, darkening. "Bummer. I was really hoping to see you there."

"Yeah, well, life sucks. What can you do?" Lane threw her arms up, twisting her back to Sam as nonchalantly as she could manage. "Good luck tonight, I guess," she spoke over her shoulder.

Sam nodded. "Thanks, Lane. I'll—I'll see you around..." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, then lowered his gaze and trekked away to find a spot in the growing lunch line.

"Talk about close calls," GiGi giggled the moment Sam left.

"Oh my gosh, tell me about it. I'm dying over here," Lane exhaled, slumping her shoulders as she began fanning herself. "I mean, did you see him in that jersey?"

"I was standing right next to you, Lane..."

"He's. So. Freaking. Hot! Like, Gigi, I can't even!"

GiGi giggled again. "Careful, Lane. Don't get too hot and bothered, or you and Sam might make the next cover of The Press."

"Honestly, I think it'd be worth it." Lane plopped down in her chair. "I just wish somehow I could get out of this."

GiGi hesitated. "...I know something that could maybe work..."

Lane sat up instantly. "What!? How!? Tell me!"

"Slow down, Lane. I said it could maybe work, and it's a really big maybe. If either one of our moms found out, they'd straight up murder us..."

"GiGi, I'm desperate! I'll freaking exorcise a demon-possessed pig if it means I get to go to that game!"

GiGi sighed. "Lane, I swear—Sam Irish is going to be the death of you."

****

"Looking forward to the retreat, dear?" Lane's mother asked her the moment she got in the car after school.

"Absolutely." Lane smiled back at her. "I had all day today to think about it, and you were right, Mom. I really ought to give Madam Caroline a chance before I judge her. That's what Jesus would do, right?"

Mrs. Martin gasped, her hand rising to her chest. "Oh, Lane, how delightful!" she squealed. "And here I thought I'd literally have to drag you to Caroline's house tonight."

Lane smiled back at her.

Mrs. Martin hesitated. "...And just what brought about this change of heart?"

"We had a Jesus Rally today," Lane lied. "They talked about how important it is to care for others before we judge them, to listen rather than point fingers."

"Honey, that's wonderful—I'm so proud of you!"

Lane shrugged, held her lips in a small smirk. "Yeah, well, I figured maybe it's time I tried something different. Who knows? Maybe I'll have fun tonight."

Mrs. Martin was beaming all the way back to their house, where she and Lane spruced in the mirror together in preparation for the women's retreat. Lane made sure to compliment every fancy dress her mother considered wearing, even the ones Lane was certain had been dug up from the Bride of Frankenstein's grave.

As a final touch, Mrs. Martin straightened her hair and strapped a pearl necklace around her throat. Lane chose instead to twist her hair into curls and accent the vanilla-blond spirals with a pink-and-white bow to match the skirt she'd giddily slid off her closet's shiny silver rack.

"How do I look?" each inquired of the other.

"You look gorgeous, Mom" was Lane's reply, while Mrs. Martin deemed Lane's outfit "pretty and chaste, a lovely combination."

Before she and her mother left, Lane hurried back to the bathroom and curtsied in the mirror one last time. I'm so cute, she thought to herself. Sam's gonna have a heart attack...Good thing I know CPR. She laughed at her own wit, then twirled around once before her reflection, her skirt spinning upward slightly.

"Lane! Hurry up, dear! We don't want to be late!" Mrs. Martin called from the outer room.

"Coming, Mom!" Lane blew a kiss to the mirror, then winked goodbye.

****

Madam Caroline's house was big; that was for sure. It was two stories of dull, apricot-colored bricks with light teal shutters bordering its windows. The lawn was well manicured, each blade of grass standing at attention as Lane and her mother strolled together up the smoothly paved sidewalk and rang the doorbell.

"Elizabeth, Lane, how good to see you both," Madam Caroline greeted the two of them, opening wide the front door. "Come right inside. The other ladies and I were just sitting down. Let me get you some tea."

It took every ounce of willpower inside of Lane to keep from rolling her eyes. Tea? Do I look like I was born during the Great Soda Depression?

Lane and Mrs. Martin took seats in the living room next to a woman who appeared to be in her mid-forties.

Lane reached swiftly into her purse to grab her phone. She navigated to her messages and typed now, then sent the text to GiGi while her mother started making nice with the hag-bag sitting next to them.

"Hi, there." Mrs. Martin extended her hand. "I'm Elizabeth Martin, and this is my daughter Lane."

"Elizabeth? Oh, what a beautiful name." She smiled. "I'm Judith. Judith Saver. It's very nice to meet you, Elizabeth. And you as well, Lane." She paused, then smiled again. "You know, I think my son's in your class."

Lane's froze. Wait, Saver? As in Dorian Saver!? "Oh, really? That's cool. I don't know if I've met him before..."

Judith waved her hand dismissively. "Oh, probably not. I think he's only mentioned you once or twice. Maybe you two've had a group project together or something. Who knows?" She laughed. "You probably couldn't get him to say two words anyway. He's a bit of a loner sometimes."

Loner? More like loser! "Wait, I think I do know him!" Lane feigned surprise. "Isn't he on the basketball team?"

Judith smiled. "Why, yes. They actually have their first game tonight—I hate that I had to miss it."

"Me too," Lane tried to match Judith's drawl. "But it's not every day that you get invited to the Madam Caroline's house for a women's retreat."

Judith nodded and giggled lightly in reply, a small smile plastered to her face.

Lane rolled her eyes internally. This lady is such a ditz. Like, oh my gosh. Get a freaking life.

Seconds later, Madam Caroline entered the room. "Hello, ladies," she began. "How marvelous to have you all here. It's such a pleasure." She bent down and placed two identical teacups on the coffee table in front of Lane and Mrs. Martin.

As she stood, regaining her full height, the house phone rang from the kitchen.

"Oh, excuse me one moment, ladies," Caroline said. "It'll only be a second." She hurried out of the living room to attend to the phone.

Lane grinned, glancing downward once more at the phone in her purse. It's showtime.

"Elizabeth!" called Caroline. "Elizabeth, dear, it's for you!"

Mrs. Martin stood up and walked to the kitchen to take the phone, her shoulders squared as she trekked out of sight.

"Hello?" Lane heard her mother answer. "What? Yes, of course. I—I had no idea." Lane heard her mother's footsteps clattering across the kitchen's fancy flooring.

"Elizabeth?" Caroline called from beyond Lane's view. "Where are you going, dear?"

"I'll only be a minute," Mrs. Martin called back.

Lane grinned as she heard the front door open and close. Hook, line, and sinker, she thought to herself.

Madam Caroline returned to the room, announcing that they would wait for Elizabeth to return before getting started with the first of many festivities: a game of Scrabble.

A minute passed. Then five. And there was no sign of Elizabeth.

"She sure has been on the line for quite some time," Judith spoke up.

"Maybe I should go check on her," Lane suggested, standing up as she talked. She paced quickly to the front door and swung it wide. "Oh, my gosh!" she yelled, mustering up all the hysteria within her. "Mom! Mom, wake up!"

Madam Caroline, Judith, and the other ladies rushed to Lane's side.

Unconscious on the sidewalk lay Mrs. Martin, Madam Caroline's house phone still in her hand and buzzing with the dial tone. Her feet rested on two piles of scrunched grass, a tall ant bed only inches away.

"Careful," Caroline whispered as she pulled Mrs. Martin's legs away from the ants.

"Oh my," Judith breathed. "What's that smell—?"

"Call an ambulance!" Lane ordered. "Call 9-1-1 right now!"

Judith took the phone from Mrs. Martin's hand and tapped in the number, requesting an ambulance the moment she'd rung through.

It took them about six minutes to get there; and the second they arrived, they loaded Mrs. Martin into the back.

"Thank you, sir," Lane spoke gently to the man who lifted her mother from the pavement.

"It's not a problem at all, Miss." He nodded his head.

"Is there any way I could trouble you for a ride in the back of the ambulance? It's only a short trip to the hospital, and I'd hate to leave my mother all alone." Lane twirled her hair at its end, winding and unwinding her bright blond curls.

"I don't see why not," the man said, then opened the back of the ambulance for Lane to climb inside.

"Bye, ladies," Lane turned and waved to Madam Caroline and her friends. "I really wish I could have stayed."

"No trouble at all, deary," Caroline spoke up. "Go. Be with your mother. We'll keep you in our prayers."

Lane smiled and took a seat, allowing the man to close the door behind her.

The ride to the hospital was a short one, and Lane spent all of it watching her mother to make sure she didn't wake up.

GiGi's cousin better not have lied to me, Lane thought to herself.

Upon arriving at the hospital, the medics escorted Lane from the back of the ambulance before sliding her mother out and placing her in a wheelchair.

Once she was inside, Lane excused herself to the bathroom, where she waited forty-five seconds before the door burst open behind her.

"Well, it's about freaking time you showed up," Lane chided as she twisted around to face her best friend, who now stood in the doorway.

"Sorry, Lane," GiGi replied lowly. "We were trying not to get caught."

Another girl, older and taller, walked in behind GiGi and stood next to her. "And you could show a little more gratitude, Lane. It's not every day I get a call at work begging me to knock out some seventh-grader's mom."

Lane crossed her arms. "And you must be Megan, GiGi's cousin."

The girl nodded. "Alright, pay up. I did what you asked." A single hand rose to her hip. "I ragged that lady with enough ethylene oxide to keep her out for hours."

Lane's arms uncrossed. "Fine. A deal's a deal." She reached inside her purse and pulled out two fifty-dollar bills that she'd pilfered from her mother's top dresser drawer. "The phone call was a nice touch, by the way. I bet Mom never saw it coming."

Megan ripped the money from Lane's hands. "Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I don't squeal on both of you."

Lane's eyes hardened. "Megan, do us all a favor, and shut your face. You have your money. You're free to go." Lane lifted not one, but both hands to her hips. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be." She strutted from the bathroom, brushing past Megan with nonchalance, then glanced backward. "Coming, GiGi? Those basketball boys aren't gonna cheer for themselves."

GiGi hesitated for a moment, then left with Lane, waving goodbye to Megan as she did.

The girls stole through the hospital hallway before sprinting through the double doors and up to the bus stop. Lane paid their way with more stolen money, and the driver dropped them off three blocks from the EdgeWay gymnasium.

They ambled down the street and through two parking lots, arriving at the gym's back door at five-twenty-six p.m.

"Two student tickets, please," Lane requested at the gym's entrance, the wide opening almost entirely blocked by a long desk covered with blue and white cloth.

The lady sitting behind the makeshift booth box held out her hand, and Lane giggled as she paid yet again with her mother's money.

"Two minutes until the boys come out," Lane squealed to GiGi once they'd secured front-row seats in the wooden bleachers. "I can't believe this is actually happening!" She leaned over and hugged GiGi.

"You're something else, Lane Martin," GiGi laughed. "I'm honestly still in shock that this worked. I mean, how lucky was it that Megan still worked at that pharmacy?"

"Yeah, or that she knew ethylene oxide was way better for knocking people out than chloroform?"

GiGi laughed. "I just can't believe no one saw what she did to your mom."

"Well, did you really expect those brain-dead grandmas to figure out what was going on? Plus, anyone who knows my mom knows she loves to talk. For her, being on the phone for that long is...well, natural." Lane giggled at her own words.

The lights in the gymnasium shut off, flooding the room in darkness. Rapturous gasps and cheers rang out in the audience as the booming, resonating voice of EdgeWay's sports announcer thundered through the gym's speaker system:

"People of earth, are you ready to play some...BASKETBALL!"

"Woo!" Lane shouted, GiGi joining in with her own chorus of delight.

One by one, blaring white lights showered down from the ceiling, illuminating each member of EdgeWay's team as their names were announced, Sam's being the first.

"What'd I tell you?" Lane whispered to GiGi.

The pre-game festivities carried on under waves of ardent screaming and a shower of white lights, concluding with each EdgeWay boy sinking a layup and high-fiving a teammate. Lane sat dazed, her eyes fixated on the only blue-and-white jersey that mattered—Sam's.

EdgeWay started out strong, gunning the second the ball was tossed into the air. To Lane, it was as if none of the other boys were even playing. The spotlight of her mind's eye was Sam Irish as he hustled up and down the court—blocking, dodging, jumping, shooting, sinking, swishing.

"This is a dream," Lane whispered to her best friend. "GiGi, this is my dream come true!"

At halftime, EdgeWay was ahead by eleven points. The buzz of the timer signaled a break for the boys and chance for Lane to run to the bathroom and relieve the urge she'd had since the latter half of the second quarter.

Before she scurried into the hallway, she noticed Sam staring at her from across the court. She twisted away swiftly and twirled her hair, pretending to talk to GiGi before sashaying away as cutely as possible to run to the ladies' room.

He was staring at me! Happy thoughts danced through Lane's mind as she opened the bathroom door and found the first empty stall. 

Locking the door behind her and preparing to take a seat, she heard two more people clatter inside, their shoes clacking against the tiled floor.

"Can I at least get some privacy?" one of them barked.

What the—?

"You must think I'm dense. I leave this bathroom, and you'll jump that window quicker than lightning. Nah. I'm staying right here."

Lane froze. The second voice wasn't a girl's—it belonged to a man...a man she saw at church every Sunday.

Mr. Clather?

Lane peeked through the vertical break between her stall's door and the one adjacent, confirming her suspicions. No way—what's Mr. Clather doing with...oh my gosh...

The girl standing next to him in a dark hoodie turned, moving to find a stall; and as she did, Lane glimpsed her shadowed, terrified face.

Ruby! That's Ruby Densett! Lane clapped both hands over her mouth, the tiniest of squeals escaping her lips. There's no freaking way!

In silence, Lane waited a few more minutes for Ruby to finish using the bathroom and rejoin Mr. Clather, who pulled the hood of the girl's sweatshirt back over her head. He grabbed her upper arm and thrusted her out into the hallway ahead of him, Ruby crying softly as he ushered her away.

The moment the door to the bathroom clanged shut, Lane sprang up and bolted from her stall, vaulting into the hall and back to the gym to tell GiGi.

"GiGi!" Lane cried as she ran up to her. "You're never gonna believe what I just saw! It was terrible!"

"Huh? Lane, what're you—?"

"Ruby! I saw Ruby Densett in the bathroom! A-and she was being kidnapped...or, or something...Mr. Clather was there, and he was forcing her to go somewhere with him! GiGi, we have to tell someone! This is insane! I can't believe—"

"Can't believe what?" A feminine yet domineering voice echoed behind Lane and GiGi.

Crap!

Lane turned around slowly. "H—hi, Mom..."

Mrs. Martin was accompanied by Myra Gravestepper, GiGi's mother, who wore an impenetrable scowl as she glared at both girls.

"Mom, listen. Something insane just happened, and—"

"Save it, Lane," Mrs. Martin held up her hand. "You're coming with me." She reached swiftly forward and gripped Lane's arm, ignoring the bystanders beginning to stare.

"Mom, wait! Someone's life could be in danger!"

Mrs. Martin rolled her eyes and pulled Lane behind her, and Mrs. Gravestepper grabbed GiGi as well, both girls' faces flushing red as the other fans in the bleachers watched their mothers drag them away.

The girls departed the gymnasium involuntarily, yanked angrily across the parking lot by firm grips propelled on clacking high heels.

"Please, Mom! You have to listen to me!"

"Not another word, Lane Martin," her mother ordered as she shoved Lane into the back seat of their car and locked her inside. "Not another word."