Fake Me To Church

Twelve Years Ago (2/2)

Part Two

Madam Caroline, Judith, and the other ladies rushed to Lane's side.

Unconscious on the sidewalk lay Mrs. Martin, Madam Caroline's house phone still in her hand and buzzing with the dial tone. Her feet rested on two piles of scrunched grass, a tall ant bed only inches away.

"Careful," Caroline whispered as she pulled Mrs. Martin's legs away from the ants.

"Oh my," Judith breathed. "What's that smell—?"

"Call an ambulance!" Lane ordered. "Call 9-1-1 right now!"

Judith took the phone from Mrs. Martin's hand and tapped in the number, requesting an ambulance the moment she'd rung through.

It took them about six minutes to get there; and the second they arrived, they loaded Mrs. Martin into the back.

"Thank you, sir," Lane spoke gently to the man who lifted her mother from the pavement.

"It's not a problem at all, Miss." He nodded his head.

"Is there any way I could trouble you for a ride in the back of the ambulance? It's only a short trip to the hospital, and I'd hate to leave my mother all alone." Lane twirled her hair at its end, winding and unwinding her bright blond curls.

"I don't see why not," the man said, then opened the back of the ambulance for Lane to climb inside.

"Bye, ladies," Lane turned and waved to Madam Caroline and her friends. "I really wish I could have stayed."

"No trouble at all, deary," Caroline spoke up. "Go. Be with your mother. We'll keep you in our prayers."

Lane smiled and took a seat, allowing the man to close the door behind her.

The ride to the hospital was a short one, and Lane spent all of it watching her mother to make sure she didn't wake up.

GiGi's cousin better not have lied to me, Lane thought to herself.

Upon arriving at the hospital, the medics escorted Lane from the back of the ambulance before sliding her mother out and placing her in a wheelchair.

Once she was inside, Lane excused herself to the bathroom, where she waited forty-five seconds before the door burst open behind her.

"Well, it's about freaking time you showed up," Lane chided as she twisted around to face her best friend, who now stood in the doorway.

"Sorry, Lane," GiGi replied lowly. "We were trying not to get caught."

Another girl, older and taller, walked in behind GiGi and stood next to her. "And you could show a little more gratitude, Lane. It's not every day I get a call at work begging me to knock out some seventh-grader's mom."

Lane crossed her arms. "And you must be Megan, GiGi's cousin."

The girl nodded. "Alright, pay up. I did what you asked." A single hand rose to her hip. "I ragged that lady with enough ethylene oxide to keep her out for hours."

Lane's arms uncrossed. "Fine. A deal's a deal." She reached inside her purse and pulled out two fifty-dollar bills that she'd pilfered from her mother's top dresser drawer. "The phone call was a nice touch, by the way. I bet Mom never saw it coming."

Megan ripped the money from Lane's hands. "Yeah, yeah. You're lucky I don't squeal on both of you."

Lane's eyes hardened. "Megan, do us all a favor, and shut your face. You have your money. You're free to go." Lane lifted not one, but both hands to her hips. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have places to be." She strutted from the bathroom, brushing past Megan with nonchalance, then glanced backward. "Coming, GiGi? Those basketball boys aren't gonna cheer for themselves."