Chapter 10 – Insomnia

I thought it would be easier to keep my distance this time since all I felt for the girl was intense curiosity and an extreme case of over-protectiveness, but I didn't take into account the fact that the hormone-raging males would be trying to corner her all the rest of that week to ask her to the dance. It was a good thing I could not hear any of their thoughts like Edward, or I would have been tempted to either pulverize them into a finally crushed powder or to exercise my gift to the extreme by having them doing something ridiculous like dress in tu-tus and tights singing "I'm a Little Teapot" at the tops of their lungs.

My intense reaction is not because I'm jealous. No, it's not that. I have no claim on her, nor do I particularly want one. I've been down that road, and it only leads to misery.

No, I just didn't think any of them deserved her. Not her freckled lab partner who most likely couldn't dance and I'm not sure could even see over a steering wheel. Not the boy who hangs out with her at lunch either. He looks as if he would drool all over her in his attempt to give her a good night kiss. And especially, not the two guys who I overheard in history on Tuesday make a bet on who was going to get her to say yes to the dance first, probably among other things.

Edward found my concern intensely amusing. He was constantly giving me updates as to when they were going to ask and what was said if I wasn't around to hear the results. I am unsure as to what his purpose was for doing so. One would think he would be doing his best to help me forget about her, not needling me about her at every chance he could.

However, as annoying this was, I was grateful for it because it allowed me to know that she wouldn't even be going to the dance at all, not even with a group of friends. Apparently, she had plans to be out of town that weekend.

I wanted to ask her in French class about where she was going or if she was just making that up to say no or if she regretted not being able to go or … a billion other things, but the chances of my getting her to answer even one of those was looking to be impossible. She was still refusing to even look at me let alone talk to me about anything other than the pre-determined topics.

I tried anyways on Friday. I couldn't help myself.

"So I hear you have plans to be out of town on the night of the dance."

She unlocked her jaw to sigh and grit out irritatingly, "That's what I told Jeffrey, Max, and that guy Jason."

"Well, you might want to be a bit more convincing because Aaron is going to ask you next from what I hear," I advised as nonchalantly as I could. "Where are you going anyways?"

"I'll take that into consideration. Thank you for your concern." She stiffly replied, ignoring my question.

I sat through the rest of the class watching her out of the corner of my eye. She was fiddling with a piece of string this time from her sweater and nibbling on the edges of her lip. Either she was worried about the coming confrontation with Hopeful #4 or she was worried about something else.

I doubted that it was the former. The guy had no charm or technique whatsoever, and in her current mood, if I cared, I would be more concerned for his overly-inflated ego.

No, it had to be that she was anxious about something else. She had been having that same look on her face all week. The same look that she had the first week of school.

I wish whatever it was would become resolved soon because it made me want to reach over and smooth her brow and reassure her somehow. It made me feel helpless, and I hated that.


Regan was right. I knew at the time she was right, but I thought she had only been referring to Jeffrey and Max. I prepared myself for them, but not the other two. Fortunately, for the ones I had a prepared response to, they asked me first so I was in the mood to be gentle with them.

Jeffrey asked me first. I had gotten to school somewhat earlier than normal but he was there before me waiting anxiously to get it over with without any witnesses, I suppose.

"Hey, Jeff, was there an early band practice?"

"Sort of, David, our section leader, wanted to get some practice in before we were interrupted by the percussionists," he replied, but just before I could say my clever response of "Oh," he continued in kind of a unintelligible rush, "But I also wanted to know if you-wanted-to-go-to-the-dance-with-me?"

"Oh, I'm sorry, but I can't. I already made plans that weekend," I said with as much disappointment as I could muster. I really did feel bad. I promised myself that at the next dance, I would make sure I could hang out with him without leading him on.

"Oh, okay then. I, uh, hope you have fun. I, er, have to go meet with David and the guys now," and with that he slumped off.

That was the hardest one. They got drastically less guilt-inducing, and the pathetic thing was they made it easy for me.

On Wednesday, Max approached me on my way to the gym.

"Hey, Cadie, wait up!" I stopped and turned to see Max bounding towards me, looking a little too relieved that no one was with me. I had been trying all day to be surrounded by other people in the hopes that it would discourage him and he would give up.

No such luck.

"So, uh, I was wondering…"

I sighed, "Um, I'm not going to be in town, so, no, I can't go with you to the dance."

"Oh, I had heard that you had plans, but I was kinda hoping you could change them."

Now, I was seriously irritated, "Change them for you, but not for Jeffrey?" Did he think I was that kind of girl or that he was just that great of a catch?

I blew passed him not waiting for an answer and headed to the girls' locker room to change.

Later before I left for home that day, some senior guy on the lacrosse team, tried to pull his move on me, calling me "Baby" and suggesting that he could show me the best time I could ever have even for a city girl. I curtly thanked him for his offer but "regretfully" informed him that I had other plans before I started up my car. Thankfully, the Hearse's purr drowned out any further egotistical comments, and I was able to escape while blasting angry chick music.

Aaron attempted to do the same just as he predicted. If I hadn't been so annoyed, I would have laughed right in his face. He met me outside of chemistry class on Thursday, leaning up against the wall smelling a rose. When I approached, he fed me some line about how this "sweet thing" must belong to me, yada, yada, yada. I tuned him out waiting for him to pause for breath and then gave him what had now become my standard line. He, however, was not overly disappointed, and merely shrugged before walking off saying something about next time. Fat chance was all I could think of in my wearied astonishment at his sheer cockiness.

I made it half-way through the morning before someone mentioned the dance to me again. I was setting out my stuff before English class quite content, secure in the fact that Max was at a wrestling match so I didn't have to deal with him today, when Emilee turned in her desk to ask me, "So how come you turned down all those guys this week?"

I stopped what I was doing and looked at her sincerely dumbfounded, "Uh, because I had plans this weekend?" Is everyone in this town selectively deaf?

"Plans can be changed for the right guy," she waved dismissively.

"You haven't met Ronnie," I assured her, a little amazed that the concept of integrity was completely missed even in this traditional town.

"I don't need to. I've met Evan Keegan. That is who you were holding out for right? I mean, if he had asked you, you would have said yes, wouldn't you?" She looked at me like one of those lawyers on cop shows when they've reached their final question in the cross-examination and you mentally play ominous drum rolls as you watch the witness break down under the pressure.

I wasn't breaking. I was too shocked too respond.

Apparently, she took my silence as confirmation because the next thing she said was "Yeah, I heard that you guys clicked after he returned from visiting his friend. If you are waiting around for him to ask, don't. He doesn't go to dances."

I would have set the girl straight, now that my brain was functioning properly again, but Mrs. Schueler had started class.

My answer would have been to question her sources because obviously they hadn't told her that I was currently not getting along with him. I would also have informed her that a promise is a promise to me and that I don't go back on my word, unless it would do more harm than good. Missing out on a dance does not qualify in this instance.

However, my personal Jiminy Cricket was whispering in my ear that maybe she was right in one instance. I would have been quite flattered if the Irish Lad had asked me to the dance.

On the other hand, I argued back. If he had asked me, I would have turned tail and run because no guy goes around trying to avoid you and then belittling you to your face, to then wanting to go on a date with you, without having a potentially embarrassing agenda in mind for you.

Whatever helps you sleep at night, my conscience chirped.


It in fact did not help me sleep at night. So between disturbing thoughts of self-doubt concerning my feelings for a guy (which is the first time this has ever happened) and my worries about the Matthews case that was going to be decided at the end of the week, I looked like I had caught whatever was plaguing the Cullen Clan, except without the added benefit of being drop dead gorgeous.

I made it though. I made it to Thursday, and I spent two hours after school pulling an Ian, rocking back and forth waiting anxiously for my cell phone to ring.

It finally did at 5:21.

"Hello?" I couldn't tell who it was because there was so much noise in the background.

"Hey, you two! Pipe it down. You can talk to her in a second. Alright?" I realized then that the noise in the background was the happy clamoring of my babies.

"So, if you can't tell Cadie, this is Tyrone and the courts ruled in our favor."

I was silently crying in relief at this point, only able to sniff out, "They did?"

"Yeah, Vanessa no longer has custody of the kids. I do, and she is going to jail for a few years along with being committed to rehab and taking anger management classes."

"Oh, that's good. How did the kids do on the stand and with seeing Vanessa again?"

"They were troopers on the stand. The state's prosecuting attorney did a really good job preparing them so that they would know what to expect, and the defense attorney didn't pressure them all that hard. It was pretty evident by the police officers' testimonies what the situation was. It was harder with Vanessa, more so for Simon. He was really scared; he hid behind me when he was brought into the courtroom. Lottie, I think, is just really confused." He sighed at this. Poor guy, how do you explain all this to a child?

"Daaaaaaad!" I chuckled mid-sniff when I could hear little Simon's voice plaintively pleading for the phone. He never was very patient.

"Alright, alright. Let me put you on speaker phone, okay?" I could hear him setting the phone down and the kids moving around, and then he said, "Okay, here you go. Say hi."

"Hi, Cadie!" Lottie squealed, and Simon got out, "Hewo, Cadie!"

"Hiya, guys! How are my sweetings?" This was all I needed before they proceeded to tell me all about what they had been doing with their dad, the cool police officers, and the funny-looking judge, prattling happily away.

This only stopped when Lottie said more seriously, "Mommy was there, Cadie."

"Was she?" I asked gently, holding my breath.

"Yeah, I felt bad for her. She looked so sad. I almost ran-ded up to her to give her a hug. But then I 'membered the bad things she did. Should I've given her a hug? 'Cause I don't think she knows that we love her. I said a lot of bad things about her to Ms. Kensi'ton."

I let it out, praying that I had enough wisdom to help this hurt little darling, "Oh sweetie, you weren't saying bad things about your mama. You were telling the truth weren't you?"

"Yes," came her tremulous reply.

"Well then, your mama knows the truth too and she understands that was all that you were doing. She knows that you weren't saying those things because you hate her. She probably was sad because she feels sorry for what she did. Okay?"

"Okay," she sniffed.

"How are you doing, little guy?"

"I'm not little! I'm going to be five 'ears old!" was his wonderfully outraged reply.

"Oh that's right! My bad. And what would you like for your birthday, mon grand?" This returned the conversation to a more upbeat note until we said our goodbyes. Tyrone promised that they would call again in a few weeks.

Being able to finally have this issue resolved and with a relatively happy ending, I was able to get through the next 36 hours in a blissful state of happiness despite the fact that I was doomed to spend my weekend with Ronnie and a disgruntled Regan.

I discovered not too long after we were in the car that I was wrong about the last part though.

"So Regan, I hear that you want to be a writer," was Ronnie's opening statement as she pulled out of my driveway in her fortunately spacious rental car.

"How did you …?" I could hear Regan's shocked voice from the backseat.

"Oh, Cadie told me that you wrote for the newspaper, and so I assumed, correctly I see, that was what you wanted to do. I wrote for my school's newspaper too before I went away to college, and then I wrote for their newspaper as well."

This sparked an exchange that continued nearly the whole way there. Ronnie found the one topic that could light up Regan's eyes and make her as animated as Emilee when she is talking about clothes.

I eventually slept. I probably would have fallen asleep sooner but I felt it would be rude to do so. However, having deprived myself of sleep for the past two weeks and being in a car that hardly gives any feedback resulted in the inevitable - that I would relinquish my grasp on the conscious world.


AN: French translation -

mon grand = my big guy

Next chapter - Fate