The Truth About Faking

by Leigh Talbert Moore

  “Was that Trent what’s his face? Somehow I expected him to drive something… a little newer.”

  “No, that was Jason James. He asked me to the luau.” I reach up and start pulling the French braid out of my hair. It’s giving me a headache, and my neck is still stiff.

  “Look at that.” He walks over and starts combing the knots out of my hair again with his fingers. “Corn silk.”

  “Stop,” I say, pulling away and going around the bar.

  He goes back to packing, and I watch him place a few of Mom’s all-natural bath products in his bag along with that little pot she was carrying when I walked in. “So what happened to Trent?” he says. “I thought all this was to land him.”

  “How’d you know about that?” I pull a bag of seaweed chips out of the cabinet and scan the label. I don’t know why Mom can’t just buy Doritos.

  “Eavesdropping,” Ricky glances up with a smile.

  “Mom would not approve,” I say. “She might even deduct points.”

  “Which is why we won’t tell her.”

  “Where is she?” I look around. I’m hoping she’ll apologize for embarrassing the crap out of me and for being so gullible. But secretly, after Jason’s story, I really just want to give her a hug or something.

  “In there with Dr. Hamilton,” he says. “Lower back issues.”

  I’ve gotten used to the real doctors coming to my mom for massage and herbal remedies. They’re all good friends, and she has a way of smoothing over any differences of opinion between the two approaches to treatment. I chalk it up to her honey voice.

  “So why are you going to the luau with J.J.?” Ricky asks, like it’s his business. “What happened to Trent?”

  I tear open the bag and look at the papery green chips, frowning. “Trent asked Shelly.”

  “The silly redhead?” Ricky looks appalled. “He must need a little sexual healing.”

  “He does not.” Now I’m officially ill.

  “I don’t know,” he continues. “That girl is easy with a capital Z.”

  “How would you know?”

  “Are you kidding? She was all up in my business last time she was over here. I know a party girl when I can’t get away from one.”

  “Well, she’s not easy. She just had a shock last summer, and she’s sort of… going through a phase or something.”

  “Mm hm.” His eyes narrow. “I hope her phase uses protection.”

  “Would you shut up?” I slam the cabinet. “They’re not doing anything.” They’d better not do anything.

  “Okay, okay,” he laughs as I head for my room. “Come on, Harley,” he calls after me.

  I go to my bedroom and slam the door. I’m sure Mom’s going to say something later about the noise level when she has a client in the house, but I don’t care. I flop on my bed. Everything is screwed up, and now I have to go through with this stupid fake-dating plan. I kick a pillow. I wish Dad would walk in on Ricky some time instead of stupid Trent’s mom, who’s probably telling everyone in Shadow Falls right now. I wish Mom would think about how things look and get a new student. I wish I was going to the luau with Trent. I close my eyes and see his model-perfect face. Those lavender eyes… I try to imagine kissing him, but all I can see is Shelly beating me to it.

  Four

  I spend the week tense, riding to and from school with Jason in his crap-mobile, and waiting for the news to break about my mom and her silly, half-naked student. But it never happens. Friday arrives, and the rumor-mill remains strangely silent.

  Jason isn’t such a bad fake boyfriend. I mean, we have good conversations, and he dresses well when he wants. Most of the cheer squad has their eyes on him, and I’ve even caught Trent checking us out in the parking lot a few times. I always smile and wave at him, and he usually gives me sad little smile back. I know it’s because we were so close to being together, and then I imagine us holding hands, me smiling up at him, maybe he kisses my nose, slides his arm around my waist… A little shimmer moves through my middle, and my chest rises.

  “…at seven?” Jason asks.

  “Huh?” Lost in my daydream, I hadn’t even realized Jason’d been talking to me.

  “Seven o’clock? I’m picking you up tonight?”

  “Oh, right. Better make it six-thirty. My parents’ll want to meet you.”

  “Your mom’s been talking to my dad all week, so she’ll have an idea who I am,” he argues.

  “What?” I’m totally confused. “Why has my mom been talking to your dad?”

  “The accident? She called my dad, and they’ve been working out payment for the repairs and stuff. Dad doesn’t want to go through our insurance.”

  “I guess that’s why you drive these old heaps,” I say, patting the door.

  “You know, you fix up a classic, and it can be worth twice what it originally sold for.”

  “So four dollars instead of two?” I smile.

  “More like four thousand,” he says.

  “Ooo,” I pretend to be impressed. “Yeah, so six-thirty, and remember it’s a luau.”

  “What does that mean? For guys, I mean.”

  “Grass skirt, nothing else, of course.”

  Jason laughs. “Didn’t know you’d go there, H.D.”

  “I don’t make the rules.” I shrug.

  “OK, so grass skirt for the guys. What does that mean for the girls?”

  “Oh, lots of things,” I sniff, pushing my hair back. “Wrap skirts, blouses, halter tops, leis…”

  “That doesn’t seem fair.” He grins like always as he watches me, and I have to confess, I kind of like it.

  “Again, you’ll have to take it up with the Hawaiians,” I say, turning off to class.

  Mom braids my hair for the luau, this time with two braids on each side just at the top, and I fluff out the rest, very Vogue. She’s finishing up when I hear the doorbell and see Dad walking over to greet my… I guess this is a real date. But the only one. Dad opens the door, and I yelp. Jason’s standing there in what looks like only a grass skirt. Another half-dressed male!

  “Uh…” Dad seems confused. “You must be…”

  “Jason, sir,” he grins, walking into the room. I’m afraid to look, but at the same time, I can’t turn away. Jason’s standing there shirtless in a long grass skirt with a lei around his head. He actually looks kind of hot.

  “That’s some get-up,” Dad says. “Anything under there?”

  “Yes sir,” Jason moves the grass to reveal khaki shorts. I didn’t see them in the darkness of the porch. “I have this, too.”

  He pulls out a Hawaiian shirt and slips it over his bare chest. I feel myself start to breathe again. It’s not such a bad-looking chest he’s covering up, actually. Strictly as an observation, of course.

  “That was for H… Harley,” he finishes, his eyes twinkling at me.

  “What does that mean?” Mom’s eyes are not twinkling. She’s not smiling either as she approaches my fake boyfriend.

  “Oh… Mrs. Andrews?” Jason looks startled, but he recovers quickly and sticks out his hand. “Jason James.”

  “Jason,” Mom shakes his hand, then unceremoniously drops it. “Now why would you show up half-dressed for Harley?”

  “Umm…” Jason looks confused, so I jump in between them.

  “It’s my fault, Mom. I told Jason the guys had to dress like that. I thought he knew I was kidding.”

  “I figured you were,” he says. “It was a joke.”

  Mom doesn’t relax, and I decide against pointing out the whole double-standard going on here. I’d been understanding about her ridiculous skin-cancer on the butt thing.

  “Well, you’re not to be out late,” she says.

  Dad puts his hand on her shoulder. “It’s good to have a sense of humor,” he says.

  But Mom’s still in hyper-protective mode. “Drive carefully.”

  “It’s okay, Mom,” I say. “Jason’s been very ten and two, eyes on the road all week.”

&nbs
p; “Let’s keep it that way,” she says.

  “Home by eleven, kids.” Dad smiles and slides his arm around my mom.

  “Yes, sir,” Jason says.

  I follow him out to his stupid Gremlin.

  “What next, Jason? Jeez.” I fluff my hair again. It’s already getting flat. “Did you really not want to go to the luau after all?”

  “Damn, Harley, your mom’s a total babe!” he finally says. “You could’ve warned me.”

  “What?” He is so unexpected.

  “And your dad had on a priest collar.” He stops and opens my door. “What’s that all about?”

  “He’s the pastor at First Prez,” I say, getting in the Gremlin. “You didn’t know that?”

  “Nuh uh.” Jason closes my door and jogs around. “I didn’t know what to say when your mom walked over. I was thinking she looked just like…”

  “Pocahontas?”

  “No… I mean, Yeah! That’s better,” he says. “I was thinking of someone else. But Pocahontas is way better.”

  I really don’t feel like talking about this. “Well, get over it. There’s a line.”

  “What?”

  “A line of guys waiting for her. Take a number.”

  “For your mom?” Jason glances at me. “I’m happy dating you, H.D.”

  “Good ‘cause it gets old.” I look out the window and don’t even bother correcting him.

  Jason’s quiet for a beat. “But they say you should check out the parents of people you date.”

  “Fake date,” I look back. “And who says?”

  “The dating experts. That’s what you’re going to look like when you’re old.”

  “Mom’s not old. And it’s not like we’ll still know each other then anyway.”

  “We might. And it’s good to be prepared.”

  “Don’t get too prepared. This is only for two weeks.”

  He smiles at me. I frown back.

  At the luau, Jason and I circle the gym talking to friends and carrying plastic cups with little umbrellas in them. I notice Trent and Shelly arrive and wave at them. Shelly’s gone all out with leis around her wrists and ankles and a grass skirt. Trent’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, and he looks so great. I imagine it being me there holding his hand, whispering something funny in his ear and making him laugh. I picture him kissing my cheek, maybe that spot right beside my ear, and for a moment I melt.

  “You okay?” Jason’s watching me, and I almost blush.

  “Of course. I was just thinking about… something.”

  He doesn’t pursue it.

  The luau’s a sophomore-sponsored dance, so last year our class did all the planning and decorations. Reagan Smith and her little party-planning crew are all discussing whose version’s better—ours or theirs. Reagan notes that last year, when she was in charge, we had a cochin de lait. I mentally note at least this year we have a limbo pole. She intentionally left that off last year’s luau agenda.

  Jason pulls me to the dance floor when a slow song starts. “Girls worry about the dumbest stuff,” he breathes as we sway back and forth.

  “Reagan’s just afraid someone’ll think this party’s better than hers was,” I say, resting my hands on his shoulders. “And she’s working on prom now, so she’s nuts.”

  “Prom.” He exhales and makes a face.

  I shake my head. “Don’t worry. Our prom’s pretty low-pressure, and finding a date’s not hard. I mean, there’s always somebody in need. Reagan just makes everything a bigger deal than it is.”

  I glance over Jason’s shoulder at Trent, and imagine us at prom. Him in a tux, me holding his arm, wearing that white goddess dress…

  “You all seem close,” he says, catching my eye again.

  I smile. “Well, except for you and Trent and a few other people, we’ve all gone to school together since kindergarten.”

  “That must be weird.”

  I look around the room at all the familiar faces. I wave at Shelly who’s watching us dance, and I try to imagine being in a room with total strangers.

  “I don’t know. It can be nice. You know. Knowing everybody and what to expect.”

  We sway for a few seconds in silence. I notice Jason’s hands resting gently on my waist and glance up again at his dark brown eyes. They’re sort of deep like he’s thinking about something.

  “So, preacher’s kid,” he says. “You all wild and shit?”

  “No,” I frown. “And Dad’s cool, but he would not like all the cussing.”

  “So you’re not all wild and stuff?”

  “That’s a total stereotype. And stereotypes are how stupid people make sense of the world.”

  He laughs a little. “That something your dad says?”

  “My mom.”

  “Yeah, about your mom…” I can feel Jason’s fingers playing with the ends of my hair. The tiny pulls gave me little chills, so I slide it away.

  “What’s she like?” he says.

  “I thought you weren’t interested.”

  “I’m not, but… it seems like you were mad about her before. Or something.”

  I look at him for a second and then shake my head. “I shouldn’t have said that before. Mom’s great.”

  “So there’s not a line of guys waiting for her?”

  “No,” I confess. “Just one.”

  “One meaning your dad?”

  “One meaning her student Ricky.”

  Jason frowns. “Who’s Ricky?”

  I fiddle with the side of his collar, not meeting his eyes. “Her massage therapy student. He’s always at our house.”

  “Your mom teaches massage therapy?”

  I nod. “She coaches a senior from the college in Glennville every year. And she teaches yoga and prescribes herbal remedies. Stuff like that.”

  “We had a lot of that in New Mexico.”

  “I’m sure.” I glance up at Jason’s hair. It really is a pretty color, and for a moment, I imagine sliding my fingers through it. Just to see how it feels, of course.

  “So you think this Ricky guy’s after your mom?”

  “Yes.” I answer without hesitation. Then I pause. I’ve never told anyone how I feel about Ricky and my mom. I can’t believe I’m telling my fake boyfriend.

  “That’s weird. What does your dad think?”

  “Nothing,” I shake my head. “I mean, nothing’s going on. Ricky’s just her student.”

  We’re quiet a second.

  “It just gets old sometimes,” I say softly.

  “I bet. It’s like he’s threatening your family or something.”

  “But he’s not. Mom would never do anything like that.”

  Jason studies my face and our eyes meet. I didn’t expect him to understand how I felt, or that it might matter to me. But I realize the song’s over, and I lead us off the dance floor.

  “She wouldn’t,” I say again. But for a moment all I can think of is Shelly’s seemingly perfect parents, and how shocked we all were when it came out her dad had been sleeping with his secretary for three years. How it devastated her mom, turning her into a self-help addict. I notice Jason’s still holding my hand. Our fingers are laced, and it feels really comforting. Just then Shelly runs up and pulls me away.

  “Come with me,” she orders.

  She drags me to the bathroom, and as we go in, I notice Trent walking up to Jason. I wonder what they’ll say to each other. I’m sure Jason’ll help me with my plan, but for a split-second, I’m not sure how I feel about that.

  “First, assertiveness training—pass! I am so becoming a life coach.”

  “What?” I’m confused.

  “All that between you and super hottie.” She looks at me, smiling. “Nice work.”

  “Oh.” I cross my arms and lean against the sink. “That wasn’t anything. I mean, he’s my date, but that’s all.”

  “You are so lying.” She looks in the mirror and starts pinching her cheeks. “You two were totally into each other on the dance floor ju
st now.”

  “We were not,” I say, feeling embarrassed. “We were just talking.”

  “About what? It looked way intense.”

  “My mom?”

  “Oh, shit! That’s the other thing!” Her eyes are shining. “What’s all this about your mom and half-naked Ricky? I heard Mom talking to Ms. Jackson after their divorce survivors support group. Sounds like somebody got an eye-full.”

  “Oh my god! Did she also mention I was there? And that Ricky wasn’t naked? He had this mole on his butt, and he thought it was skin cancer.” I cringe internally at how stupid that sounds.

  Shelly giggles and smoothes my arm. “Calm down. You know Mom wouldn’t believe anything bad about your mom. Even if he is crazy-hot. Did you get to see his thing? Is it… you know.” Her eyebrows go up, and I think I might barf.

  “I don’t know! And I couldn’t know because he wasn’t naked. He had on a towel.”

  She does a little shiver and turns to the mirror again. “You are so lucky. It’s so unfair.”

  “Nothing happened,” I say. “Some women are just stupid.”

  She slants her eyes at me and then pulls out her lip gloss. “Well, Trent’s about as fun as a pet rock.”

  My eyes fly to hers. “What happened?”

  “Not a thing,” she sighs. “I’ve been working so hard to get him to talk about anything, I’m absolutely exhausted.”

  “Define anything.” I study her face. “Kool-aid stripes verses feather extensions? Is fringe too Boho? Is Boho even still in?”

  “Hardly. I could talk to myself about those things and be happy.” I watch her flick her bangs to the side. “Nope, I’ve tried sports, Shadow Falls, college… you name it.”

  “And what did he say?” I’m dying to know.

  “That’s just it! Nothing. He’s all yep, nope and silence.”

  “But he’s so sweet, and those eyes…” I look back at the mirror and think of the hydrangea blooms I saw earlier. “You’re probably just overwhelming him.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m just saying. You’ve got a big personality. He might not—”

  “Be able to get a word in?”

  I bite my lip and try to cover. “That’s not what I was going to say!”

  “Yes, it was.”