The Lance Temptation Read Free

Farah said. “Jeannie Sander’s mom is bringing us home.”
    â€œOkay, then, if you’re sure. I’ll see you at home. Have fun, girls!” She drove off.
    I grabbed Farah’s sleeve. “Mrs. Sander isn’t bringing us home.”
    Farah smiled. “I know she’s not, and you know she’s not. But your mom doesn’t have to know. Why can’t one of us have a driver’s license already? It’s a total handicap.”
    â€œWhat difference does it make? I wouldn’t have anything to drive anyway.”
    â€œMinor issue. You’re the A student, you should have your license. I don’t see why your parents are making you wait another six months.”
    â€œLike I said, nothing to drive anyway.”
    â€œWell, it’s cramping my style.”
    I frowned at her. “I don’t see you with your license.”
    â€œYeah, well. Unfortunately, my parents don’t trust me.”
    â€œWho would’ve guessed?” I said. “So are we walking home, or what? It’s going to be cold and dark. I’d rather have Mom pick us up.”
    â€œYou worry too much — it’s not good for your health. Besides, how can you doubt me? You ought to know I have a plan.”
    And there it was. Another plan. My nervousness climbed another notch. I wasn’t feeling too excited about the possibilities. We entered the stadium and the field lights were blinding. They had recently been replaced by the Parent Booster Club and you’d have thought they’d personally bought the sun. The week the lights were installed, the paper ran an article every day boasting about the Booster Club, the unflagging Bates’ spirit, the football team, yada, yada, yada. But I had to admit, it was nice to see everything clearly for once. Our Bates players were already on the field, their orange and black uniforms nearly fluorescent in the light. I didn’t know who we were playing, and I didn’t care. The other team wore purple, so I guessed they might be our rivals from Gainesville down the road.
    The salty smell of popcorn glutted the air, so I knew the Chess Club was busy at their booth. They continually bragged about how they could raise one hundred dollars in under two hours. The band was blasting out a new song the whole school had learned during Friday’s pep rally, and I could see the cheerleaders jumping from each other’s shoulders, landing in twisted contortions. The whipped-up crowd chanted and someone blew an air horn.
    Farah kept walking toward the bleachers. “Lance has a brother. He’s, um, older. He’ll give us a ride home.” She spoke close to my ear over the throbbing noise.
    It was stupid, but at the mention of Lance, my heart started to beat a bit faster. “Oh, so Lance’s brother and Lance will be with us?”
    A look of delight passed over Farah’s face. “It’s all Lance, isn’t it? My, my, whatever will Marc say?”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about. This has nothing to do with Marc.” I could feel my face go hot. I didn’t tell her about my earlier lie-fest with Marc. Whoa, what if Marc texted me during the game? I pulled my phone from my jean’s pocket and switched it off.
    I nudged Farah. “I didn’t know Lance had a brother. How much older is he?”
    â€œOld enough.” Farah’s eyebrows rose, and she continued in a dreamy tone, “Wait till you meet him. He’s fine.”
    â€œHow did you meet him?”
    â€œOh, Emili, you know I get around.”
    â€œDid Lance say he was coming for sure?” I was practically yelling now as we got closer to the stands.
    Farah ignored me, dashing ahead, starting up the bleachers two at a time.
    â€œWait,” I called. She wasn’t listening — she was on a mission.
    A senior guy — I thought his name was Scott — grabbed Farah’s arm on her way up. He pulled