Author's note: Nope, still don't own any of 'em. Feedback is appreciated! I may only be able to update once a week, so be patient! Thanks. Here we go.

Chapter 3: The Secret's out.

Emma couldn't sleep at all that night. Her mom had come up to check on her every few minutes. She could hear Emma's sobs from her bedroom down the hall. She knew it had something to do with one of her friends.

Emma heard a knock at her bedroom door. "Please don't come in." she tried to sound as cheerful as possible, but her charade was ruined by the muffled voice and the blowing of her nose afterwards. The door slowly opened, revealing her concerned mother looking at her with sympathy in her eyes.

"Honey, what's wrong?" she asked as she entered the room just as slowly as she had opened the door. She sat on the edge of her daughter's bed and placed her hand on Emma's back, trying to calm her down. Emma didn't give her mother an answer. "Emma, please tell me what is bothering you. Did you get into a fight with Manny?" Emma shook her head. "Toby?" Emma shook her head again. "Sean?" Once again, Emma shook her head, her face buried in her pillow. "J.T?" as her mother said those words, Emma let out a loud sob and continued to cry. "So it's J.T. then." Her mom said, still trying to figure it out. "Did he say anything to offend you?"

"No." was all Emma could say between her sobs, which had grown even louder.

"Did you two have any sort of fight?" Emma shook her head again.

"Is he alright?" Her mom asked, becoming a little more concerned. When she didn't receive any sort of answer, she began to panic. "Is something wrong with him? Did he hurt himself?" Emma sat up on her bed.

"He told me not to tell you." She said while wiping her watery eyes with the sleeve of her shirt.

"Em, if something is wrong with him, if he is in danger, and if you care about him, sometimes you have to go against what he says for his own good." Her mother was becoming even more concerned.

"Mom, he'll hate me if I tell you!" she said, crying into her mother's shoulder as if she were 5 years old.

"Hon, if it's that bad, I have a feeling he will be grateful." She said, rubbing Emma's back in sympathy.

"Fine." Emma said, wiping her eyes. "It's his dad."

"Is his dad ok?"

"Yeah, his dad if fine. But Mom, he's an alcoholic." Emma said, looking at her mother with worry.

"Did J.T. say his father hurt him in any way?"

"He said his dad hits him sometimes, and he says he has a dud for a son, and that he wished for anything BUT him." Her mother stood up.

"We should call Mr. Simpson." Was all she could say.

"No, Mom! J.T. made me promise!"