And You Can't Tell Anyone (Track Twelve: III) 2, chapter 17
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Wren lunged to her feet. Lithely, Mirabelle danced backwards, getting closer to the door. "Ah, ah, aaaah," she taunted. "You better not do that. I might just fall out into the hallway, and then where would we be?"
"You'd be very dead, with your pretty little face mashed into the floor." Wren was getting ready to pounce as soon as Mirabelle relaxed her guard, even for a second.
"Threats'll get you nowhere." Wren crossed her arms. Okay, so brute force was out of the picture-for now. Time to do it the diplomatic way. "What do you want?" Mirabelle leaned against the door.
"How about a few answers to some questions I have, and we'll go from there."
"Playing detective now are we?" Wren snapped caustically. She was in no mood to be blackmailed by a stupid girl who was four or five years her junior, and about half as intelligent.
Unperturbed, Mirabelle started the investigation. "What were you really doing in the Chemistry lab?"
"Like I told Miss Jacobs, while you were there, I was getting some notes to help Mike study."
"And why did you go back to your locker?"
"What's the point of this? You can drag me up in front of the principal and I'll just deny everything. Besides, Miss Jacobs already cleared me. All it's going to do is make you look like the nosey bitch that you are." She felt a flash of satisfaction as the barb struck home.
Mirabelle curled her gloss coated lip, "No, because you aren't going to deny it. Since I know something that you probably don't want anyone to know." Menacingly, she waved the box.
"So what? I already know I'm screwed," Wren winced as Mirabelle smirked at the inadvertent pun. "I have to drop out anyway. So, trying to get me expelled won't work." Mirabelle inspected her nails.
"How're your parents, Wren? Do they know that you're living, unchaperoned, with three guys? What will they think when they find out that one of them got you pregnant?" That was Wren's private fear. She was aware that her parents knew she was still going to school, since her student fees were paid. Knowing how money gets people to talk, it was no wonder that Mirabelle would find out about the estranged relationship.
Not again, she thought as violent memories of therapy crashed through her mind. . They'll send me back there and then I'll be alone again. More Prozac. I don't want to be drugged up. That's not me!
There was no way she wanted her parents, namely her father, to re-enter in her life. They would take a strangle-hold on it until she died. Seeing defeat, Wren asked again. "What do you want?"
"A few more answers. Why did you shoot Landon?"
"WHAT? Who the hell is that?"
"Landon was shot at the Last Nite bar, the local pot house. You were there."
"I didn't shoot anybody! The cops shot a fat guy; that was it. I can't even hold a gun."
"If you didn't shoot him, then why did Mike beat the hell out of him?"
"Mike wouldn't hurt a fly, not unless he had to. Are you trying to pin something on him?"
"I'm just letting you know how good natured Landon is," Mirabelle's eyes sparkled. "He's refraining from pressing assault charges-for now. The cops, since they were apparently around, can testify to his condition. The assault happened in a secluded corner; obviously Mike has a calculating, perhaps criminal mind. No one was around to see."
Sudden understanding hit Wren like the ominous last nail in the coffin. "And it's his word against those of your fancy pants lawyers. So, you want me to do something in order to make sure he remains innocent. For the thousandth time, what?"
"I'm not sure," Mirabelle grinned, "but with this, I'll think of something. Be nice and I'll stay away from your boy until you get a chance to tell him." Mock concerned, she asked, "You will tell him won't you? After all, family is such an important thing." Simpering, she gave back the box and slipped out the door.
Frustrated, Wren slammed her fists into the wall. Why can't life get easier instead of more and more difficult? I need a break. But with Mirabelle in the picture, and her little revenge blackmailing scheme, that's probably not going to happen. Wren spent all of noon hour haunting the bathroom, avoiding Mike. At the end of the day, she slipped silently into the car, deflecting any questions as to her whereabouts. All she said was a quiet, "I need to talk to you," to Mike. Tré and Billie Joe, using their uncanny ability to sense a really serious issue, quickly and quietly went into the house. Uncertain how to go about this, Wren got out of the car. Idly she wandered over to the shelter of the lone tree of their lot. Silently and patiently, Mike followed behind. Wren picked a leaf and began shredding it, trying to find a way to say her piece. Mike's hand engulfed hers.
"Wren." Nervously, she met his eyes. The worry and fear in his made her feel all the worse. "I know I've been..."
"Mike, it's nothing to do with that. You've been doing everything fine, great." She stared at the ground, searching for courage, before meeting his eyes again. "You know how I had to go to the store today?" He nodded. "I went to get a..." It was so incredibly hard. She clutched his hand. "I love you." He smiled.
"An 'I Love You'? They sell those?" Soothingly his fingers moved back and forth over his hand. "I love you too, Wren."
Oh God, how do I do this? What will he do? Dump me? I know he's not like that but...what if? No. He's not like that. It'll be okay. Get it over with.
"Mike," she whispered, "I'm pregnant."
"You'd be very dead, with your pretty little face mashed into the floor." Wren was getting ready to pounce as soon as Mirabelle relaxed her guard, even for a second.
"Threats'll get you nowhere." Wren crossed her arms. Okay, so brute force was out of the picture-for now. Time to do it the diplomatic way. "What do you want?" Mirabelle leaned against the door.
"How about a few answers to some questions I have, and we'll go from there."
"Playing detective now are we?" Wren snapped caustically. She was in no mood to be blackmailed by a stupid girl who was four or five years her junior, and about half as intelligent.
Unperturbed, Mirabelle started the investigation. "What were you really doing in the Chemistry lab?"
"Like I told Miss Jacobs, while you were there, I was getting some notes to help Mike study."
"And why did you go back to your locker?"
"What's the point of this? You can drag me up in front of the principal and I'll just deny everything. Besides, Miss Jacobs already cleared me. All it's going to do is make you look like the nosey bitch that you are." She felt a flash of satisfaction as the barb struck home.
Mirabelle curled her gloss coated lip, "No, because you aren't going to deny it. Since I know something that you probably don't want anyone to know." Menacingly, she waved the box.
"So what? I already know I'm screwed," Wren winced as Mirabelle smirked at the inadvertent pun. "I have to drop out anyway. So, trying to get me expelled won't work." Mirabelle inspected her nails.
"How're your parents, Wren? Do they know that you're living, unchaperoned, with three guys? What will they think when they find out that one of them got you pregnant?" That was Wren's private fear. She was aware that her parents knew she was still going to school, since her student fees were paid. Knowing how money gets people to talk, it was no wonder that Mirabelle would find out about the estranged relationship.
Not again, she thought as violent memories of therapy crashed through her mind. . They'll send me back there and then I'll be alone again. More Prozac. I don't want to be drugged up. That's not me!
There was no way she wanted her parents, namely her father, to re-enter in her life. They would take a strangle-hold on it until she died. Seeing defeat, Wren asked again. "What do you want?"
"A few more answers. Why did you shoot Landon?"
"WHAT? Who the hell is that?"
"Landon was shot at the Last Nite bar, the local pot house. You were there."
"I didn't shoot anybody! The cops shot a fat guy; that was it. I can't even hold a gun."
"If you didn't shoot him, then why did Mike beat the hell out of him?"
"Mike wouldn't hurt a fly, not unless he had to. Are you trying to pin something on him?"
"I'm just letting you know how good natured Landon is," Mirabelle's eyes sparkled. "He's refraining from pressing assault charges-for now. The cops, since they were apparently around, can testify to his condition. The assault happened in a secluded corner; obviously Mike has a calculating, perhaps criminal mind. No one was around to see."
Sudden understanding hit Wren like the ominous last nail in the coffin. "And it's his word against those of your fancy pants lawyers. So, you want me to do something in order to make sure he remains innocent. For the thousandth time, what?"
"I'm not sure," Mirabelle grinned, "but with this, I'll think of something. Be nice and I'll stay away from your boy until you get a chance to tell him." Mock concerned, she asked, "You will tell him won't you? After all, family is such an important thing." Simpering, she gave back the box and slipped out the door.
Frustrated, Wren slammed her fists into the wall. Why can't life get easier instead of more and more difficult? I need a break. But with Mirabelle in the picture, and her little revenge blackmailing scheme, that's probably not going to happen. Wren spent all of noon hour haunting the bathroom, avoiding Mike. At the end of the day, she slipped silently into the car, deflecting any questions as to her whereabouts. All she said was a quiet, "I need to talk to you," to Mike. Tré and Billie Joe, using their uncanny ability to sense a really serious issue, quickly and quietly went into the house. Uncertain how to go about this, Wren got out of the car. Idly she wandered over to the shelter of the lone tree of their lot. Silently and patiently, Mike followed behind. Wren picked a leaf and began shredding it, trying to find a way to say her piece. Mike's hand engulfed hers.
"Wren." Nervously, she met his eyes. The worry and fear in his made her feel all the worse. "I know I've been..."
"Mike, it's nothing to do with that. You've been doing everything fine, great." She stared at the ground, searching for courage, before meeting his eyes again. "You know how I had to go to the store today?" He nodded. "I went to get a..." It was so incredibly hard. She clutched his hand. "I love you." He smiled.
"An 'I Love You'? They sell those?" Soothingly his fingers moved back and forth over his hand. "I love you too, Wren."
Oh God, how do I do this? What will he do? Dump me? I know he's not like that but...what if? No. He's not like that. It'll be okay. Get it over with.
"Mike," she whispered, "I'm pregnant."
