can see that. If you wanted to, you could.”
“I’m pregnant. I’m supposed to look like this.”
Drew’s blond eyebrows jumped, a surprisingly adult expression. “Yes, ma’am, if you say so. There’s also extra butter. It’s only fifteen dollars a box.”
Bad trouble, said her teacher’s eye. Shut the door, shut it quick . But what kind of teacher was she, what kind of human being, to feel revulsion rather than pity? There was something wrong with him, and it wasn’t his fault. It never was. She was shocked by his condition: the flush on his fair face, the light hair sweat-browned along the hairline, his sunburned ears, and the white dead scale on his lips. “Sweetie—Drew, how long have you been out here in this heat?”
“Since school was out, six hours, ma’am. If I sell ten more boxes, I get a pocketknife with three blades and a screwdriver,” he said.
A warning sounded deep in her. Since when did a PTA fund-raiser offer a knife as a selling prize? “How about you come inside and cool off?” She would persuade him to give her his number and call his parents to take him home. And she could get a look at these parents. “I’ve got orange juice,” she said.
She stepped back to let him in. The whole house quivered like water just below the boil, and Lacey’s heart stuttered into the rhythm of the baby’s heart, three times as fast as her own. Blood whistled in her ears. She pressed her right hand against her throat, and the boy caught her left hand and said, “Are you okay?”
In the kitchen, Bibbits barked once, and Lacey clutched Drew’s hand. “I have to sit down,” she said. Threads of black whirled in her vision. She’d never fainted, but she’d felt like this after she and Eric double-dog-dared each other to ride the Bungee Slingshot at Myrtle Beach; when she landed, the earth felt rubbery and unreliable, and this was worse. Drew pushed her down, and she sat on the second step of the stairway, her left side and shoulder pressed against the banister post.
“Can I come back another time?” Drew said.
“Yes, yes,” she said, panting, “later.” She closed her eyes and pressed her head against the post, breathing slowly to steady her heart and make the world stop spinning.
Bibbits’s claws rattled on the hallway floor, loud enough to make Lacey wince. Her mother was there, a hand on Lacey’s shoulder and an urgent voice, “Do you need an ambulance, baby?”
Cautiously, she opened her eyes. The house had stopped shivering; the sense of near-to-the-boil anticipation was gone. Through the open door, the sounds of distant traffic pulsed smoothly, calm waves washing on sand, and her home was all peace and brightness, just as she meant it to be.
“I got dizzy for a second,” Lacey said.
“Stay right there,” Ella Dane said briskly. “I’ll bring a hot honey and lemon. I got these for you.” She draped a strand of rough red gems over Lacey’s head. Garnet, to strengthen the blood.
Low blood sugar. Hormones. Perfectly normal. Lacey relaxed against the banister post and watched as the front door gradually pulled itself closed, hesitated, than latched with a solid click. Bibbits licked her hand. Was this going to happen every time a sound surprised her—doorbell, footstep, sudden voice? She’d spent too much time online, reading about everything that could go wrong with the pregnancy. The Internet was full of terrible pictures, warnings of disaster, horror behind every click of the mouse. She had to limit herself to YourBabyNow, and not go browsing in the Google wilderness, crowded with new fears. Blood pressure too high or too low, preeclampsia, diabetes, blood clots. This body was not her own, it had become a house of death.
Chapter Nine
LEX HALL NEEDED A LAWYER. In the telephone book, there were ten pages of lawyers. Some of them listed only their names, and he didn’t trust them because they didn’t say what kind of lawyers they were; he remembered there were
“I’m pregnant. I’m supposed to look like this.”
Drew’s blond eyebrows jumped, a surprisingly adult expression. “Yes, ma’am, if you say so. There’s also extra butter. It’s only fifteen dollars a box.”
Bad trouble, said her teacher’s eye. Shut the door, shut it quick . But what kind of teacher was she, what kind of human being, to feel revulsion rather than pity? There was something wrong with him, and it wasn’t his fault. It never was. She was shocked by his condition: the flush on his fair face, the light hair sweat-browned along the hairline, his sunburned ears, and the white dead scale on his lips. “Sweetie—Drew, how long have you been out here in this heat?”
“Since school was out, six hours, ma’am. If I sell ten more boxes, I get a pocketknife with three blades and a screwdriver,” he said.
A warning sounded deep in her. Since when did a PTA fund-raiser offer a knife as a selling prize? “How about you come inside and cool off?” She would persuade him to give her his number and call his parents to take him home. And she could get a look at these parents. “I’ve got orange juice,” she said.
She stepped back to let him in. The whole house quivered like water just below the boil, and Lacey’s heart stuttered into the rhythm of the baby’s heart, three times as fast as her own. Blood whistled in her ears. She pressed her right hand against her throat, and the boy caught her left hand and said, “Are you okay?”
In the kitchen, Bibbits barked once, and Lacey clutched Drew’s hand. “I have to sit down,” she said. Threads of black whirled in her vision. She’d never fainted, but she’d felt like this after she and Eric double-dog-dared each other to ride the Bungee Slingshot at Myrtle Beach; when she landed, the earth felt rubbery and unreliable, and this was worse. Drew pushed her down, and she sat on the second step of the stairway, her left side and shoulder pressed against the banister post.
“Can I come back another time?” Drew said.
“Yes, yes,” she said, panting, “later.” She closed her eyes and pressed her head against the post, breathing slowly to steady her heart and make the world stop spinning.
Bibbits’s claws rattled on the hallway floor, loud enough to make Lacey wince. Her mother was there, a hand on Lacey’s shoulder and an urgent voice, “Do you need an ambulance, baby?”
Cautiously, she opened her eyes. The house had stopped shivering; the sense of near-to-the-boil anticipation was gone. Through the open door, the sounds of distant traffic pulsed smoothly, calm waves washing on sand, and her home was all peace and brightness, just as she meant it to be.
“I got dizzy for a second,” Lacey said.
“Stay right there,” Ella Dane said briskly. “I’ll bring a hot honey and lemon. I got these for you.” She draped a strand of rough red gems over Lacey’s head. Garnet, to strengthen the blood.
Low blood sugar. Hormones. Perfectly normal. Lacey relaxed against the banister post and watched as the front door gradually pulled itself closed, hesitated, than latched with a solid click. Bibbits licked her hand. Was this going to happen every time a sound surprised her—doorbell, footstep, sudden voice? She’d spent too much time online, reading about everything that could go wrong with the pregnancy. The Internet was full of terrible pictures, warnings of disaster, horror behind every click of the mouse. She had to limit herself to YourBabyNow, and not go browsing in the Google wilderness, crowded with new fears. Blood pressure too high or too low, preeclampsia, diabetes, blood clots. This body was not her own, it had become a house of death.
Chapter Nine
LEX HALL NEEDED A LAWYER. In the telephone book, there were ten pages of lawyers. Some of them listed only their names, and he didn’t trust them because they didn’t say what kind of lawyers they were; he remembered there were
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