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"I asked you for your position on capital punishment. "
"Prone," someone called out. Everyone laughed.
Lauren tried to suppress a giggle. "Im against the death penalty. At least until we can ensure that its being fairly and uniformly carried out. No. Wait. Im against it anyway. The state should not be in the business of killing people to preserve the notion that killing is morally wrong. "
Mr. Lundberg nodded, then turned back to the television hed set up in the middle of the room. "In the past weeks weve discussed justice--or its lack--in America. I think sometimes we forget how fortunate we are to be able to have such discussions. Things are very different in other parts of the world. In Sierra Leone, for example . . . "
He pushed a tape into the VCR and hit play.
Halfway through the documentary, the bell rang. Lauren gathered her books and notebooks and left the classroom. In the halls, the noise was amped up; the laughing, hey-dude soundtrack of days end.
She moved through the crowd, too tired to do much more than wave at passing friends.
David came up behind her, pulled her into his arms. She twisted around and clung to him, staring up into his blue, blue eyes. The noise in the hallway faded to a buzzing whine. The memories of last night came to her all at once, made her smile. He had saved her; it was as simple as that.
"My parents have to dash off to New York tonight," he whispered. "They wont be home till Saturday. "
"Really?"
"Football is out at five-thirty. You want me to pick you up?"
"No. I need to look for a new job after school. "
"Oh. Right. " She heard the disappointment in his voice.
She pressed onto her toes and kissed him, tasting the fruity residue of his daily Snapple. "I could be to your house by seven. "
He grinned. "Great. Do you need a ride?"
"No. Ill be fine. Should I bring anything?"
He grinned. "Mom left me two hundred bucks. Well order pizza. "
Two hundred dollars. That was the amount of back rent they still owed. And David could spend it on pizza.
LAUREN WAS READY TO GO JOB HUNTING. SHED GONE to the school library and printed off fifteen copies of her resume and her recommendation letter.
She was just about ready to leave when her mother tore into the house; the front door cracked against the wall.
Mom ran to the sofa and threw the cushions aside, looking for something. There was nothing there. Wild-eyed, she looked up. "Did you say I looked fat?"
"You dont weigh a hundred pounds, Mom. I didnt say you were fat. If anything, youre too thin. Theres food--"
Mom held up a hand. A cigarette wobbled between her fingers, spewed ash. "Dont start with me. I know you think I drink too much and dont eat enough. Like I need a kid policing me. " She glanced around the room again, frowning, then raced off to the kitchen. In two minutes, she was back. "I need money. "
Some nights Lauren remembered that her mother was sick, that alcoholism was a disease. On those nights, she felt sorry for her.
This wasnt one of those times. "Were broke, Mom. It would help if you went to work. " She tossed her backpack on the kitchen table and bent to pick up the fallen cushions.
"You work. All I need is a few bucks. Please, baby. " Mom sidled close, placing a hand on Laurens back. The touch reminded Lauren that they were a team, she and Mom. Dysfunctional, certainly, but a family nonetheless.
Moms hand slid up Laurens arm and closed around her shoulder; the hold was pure desperation. "Come on," she said, her voice trembling. "Ten bucks will do it. "
Lauren reached into her pocket and pulled out a wadded-up five. Thank God shed hidden the twenty under her pillow. "I wont have lunch money tomorrow. "
Mom grabbed the bill. "Pack yourself something. Theres pb and j and crackers in the fridge. "
"Cracker sandwiches. Perfect. " Thank God for the leftovers David had brought over.
