The next morning, Frankie and I were absolutely mortified to see just how Tiffany actually looked. She was starting to look gaunt in the face, her skin was about as white as a ghost's, her mousy brown hair was all tangled up with some rat's nests starting to form at the ends, and her makeup was messed up every which way. It was a Wednesday, so we were all supposed to leave for school soon. Still, Frankie couldn't help but try to reach out to her.

"Tiffany..." Frankie started to plead. "You gotta stop this..."

Tiffany just glared at her. "Stop what exactly?"

"Being a bad girl. With the pot and the alcohol and the..." Frankie took Tiffany's hands into her own. She couldn't help but wince upon seeing bruises on Tiffany's arms, not to mention puncture holes that could've only been made with a needle. "...boyfriend. I know you're not going to like hearing this, but Ralph doesn't care about you. He only cares about being a bad boy and trying to catch that next high."

That clearly set something off for Tiffany because she pulled herself free from Frankie's grasp soon after. "He does too care about me! He's good to me. He gives me that wonderful feeling you and that freak only wish you had! In fact, I'm willing to bet whoever knocked you up only cared about fucking you and that was it!"

My anger started rising. I wanted so badly to curse her out, to scream at her how wrong she was, but I didn't for Frankie's sake. I did it for our daughter's sake. I didn't want my daughter to think of me as someone who wished harm on others, much less a middle school bully. I also did it... for Namęšéme. I had a feeling he was here with us somehow, watching to see how I would react. I didn't want to disappoint him. I decided to let it go for now.

"She's right, you know," I said. "One day, everything you've been doing will catch up to you and kill you."

"Oh, boo hoo," Tiffany mocked. "What is this, an after-school special? I'm just here for a good time, not a long time. Everyone has to die someday anyway, right? Might as well live every day like it's your last, and that's exactly what I'm gonna do!"

"That doesn't mean you can poison yourself with all those drugs! Plus, they're messing with your mind!" I glanced at the puncture holes on Tiffany's arms again. "Not to mention, if you guys use needles together, then you might be putting yourself even more at risk with HIV."

"Wait, really? I thought it only affected the gays?"

I let out a frustrated sigh. "Point is, you're hurting yourself. Surely, that's not what your mom would have wanted, is it?"

"Who the fuck are you to bring my mom into this? If you wanna keep being a freak, be my guest, but don't tell me what to do!"

That's when Frankie and I just decided to give it a rest. We hoped beyond hope that we could change her mind one day, but it seemed like she was willing to go down swinging, holding steadfast to her habits.

Frankie and I hung out in the hallways for a bit after making it to school. We had actually arrived pretty early (at least, earlier than we usually did). Frankie's hand lovingly hovered over her swollen belly. It looked like she was feeling several butterfly touches in quick succession. I couldn't help but think she was questioning her decision to give our child up to someone else. Newt and Jewell were right, though. We were too young for this. Besides, Mr. Richardson sounded like a good father (or at least, he was trying his best to be one).

"Jasper, she kicked again," Frankie told me. "She seems to have been doing that a lot lately. Do you wanna feel?"

Frankie pulled back her Pink Floyd World Tour 1987 T-shirt and ran a hand over her stomach.

"Oh, yeah, sure." I touched Frankie's stomach with both hands and felt several soft, butterfly-like touches. That was my daughter! I was feeling a life! A healthy little life, according to the doctor. "My only regret is that she won't know who Namęšéme was or ever get to meet him. I bet he would have loved her."

Frankie nodded. "I bet he would've, too. Your grandpa was the coolest guy ever."

"Yeah... yeah. Oh, hey, we gotta get going. Class should be starting soon."

"Oh shit! You're right!"

We began to run off to our first period. We managed to make it just in time as we sat down at our seats. Soon, the other students started crowding into the room and sitting at their own seats. We all sat there for what felt like an eternity before Ximena eventually came down and sat down at her teacher's desk.

"Good morning, class," Ximena began. "I hope you've been having a great week so far. Now, since we started reading up on 'The Catcher in the Rye' last week, I'm eager to hear how you all have been liking the book so far. I hope you've been reading up on it because I'll be assigning an essay next week that asks you what you have been taking away from this so far."

The kids around us were murmuring to each other about the forthcoming essay assignment.

"Alright, anybody want to come forward?" Ximena asked curiously. "I'd love to hear your thoughts. Let's see... uh, Frankie, why don't you go first?"

Frankie quickly turned her head towards me in shock. I just gestured at her to go ahead and go to the front of the class. She just took a deep breath and walked right up to the front of the class.

Frankie just cleared her throat. "Okay, so what I find interesting about Holden Caulfield is that, unlike the protagonists in other coming-of-age novels, he's not all that innocent. He can be something of a brat, and he passes judgment onto everyone and everything. He doesn't even seem to care about his future. If I had to guess why he doesn't care about his future, it's probably because he wants to live in the now and he's afraid to leave his comfort zone. The best evidence I could find for that was in Chapter 18 when he was rambling about how he would rather be shot by a firing squad or sit on top of an atom bomb than serve in the military. That, to me, suggests that he would rather die than break the status quo and potentially change his life in a major way."

I sat there, speechless. I hadn't realized how well-spoken Frankie could be at times, especially during class. Though I had to wonder. Besides Holden Caulfield, who else could she have been talking about?

"That's a great way to look at it, Frankie," Ximena said. "Very nice. You can sit down now. Alright, who's next?"

I was still wondering about how effective Frankie's argument could, even as she was sitting back down at her seat. Who exactly could Holden have reminded me of? Tiffany? She seemed pretty judgmental lately, and her comment about "only being here for a good time, not a long time" struck me as being apathetic about her future. I had to wonder if we could save her from herself before it was too late.