The Truth About Faking

by Leigh Talbert Moore

  “She says driving makes her tense again. After her massages,” he explains. “So I told her I’d hang around in case she needed to go somewhere.”

  “Oh. Okay.” That makes sense, and it’s very chivalrous. It doesn’t bother me. Much.

  “So Saturday? Yeah?” He smiles.

  “Sure.” I say.

  That’s actually better. Now it’s more like he’s asking me out, instead of the other way around. Like he’s as excited as I am about us dating.

  “OK.” He gives my arm a little squeeze and walks away.

  I wait a second and then turn around to see Jason leaning against the lockers grinning at me.

  I narrow my eyes. “What?”

  “So you do ask guys out.”

  “Shut up, Jason.” I turn and walk into class, but I hear him chuckling.

  “I’d like to think I had something to do with this evolution in your character.”

  “I’m sure you would.”

  He smiles as we take our seats. Last week established the unfortunate pattern of Jason sitting right next to me in class.

  “Nicely done,” he says. “Although I was a little worried about you for just a second.”

  “What? The Friday thing?” I pretend like that hadn’t bothered me a bit.

  “Yeah. I didn’t want to see you crash and burn on your first try.”

  “And what would you have done?” I smile.

  “Oh, nothing,” he smiles back. “Unless you’d wanted me to, of course.”

  “Hasn’t Shelly gotten to you yet?”

  “I can handle her. Can you handle Mr. Personality?”

  “Trent is very nice. Just because he’s not all in your face like some people doesn’t mean he doesn’t have a nice personality.”

  “Uh huh,” Jason nods, opening his notebook. “Very nice.”

  Mrs. Gipson walks in the door, and I say a little prayer of thanks. Now Jason has to be quiet. But after that exchange in the hall, I’m getting a little worried about my hottie-future-husband.

  Nine

  Even Mom’s happier when I get home that evening. She’s breezing around the kitchen singing one of her classic rock songs in her typical tone-deaf fashion. I like that Ricky’s not hanging around in the afternoons as much now that they’ve traded appointments. Maybe Dad’ll start coming home a little earlier, too. I won’t even complain about having to make myself scarce a few times if it gets them back on track. Not that they’re off track or anything.

  “Hey, hon! How was school?” she asks as I walked in the door and drop my bag on the table.

  “Perfect,” I decide.

  “That’s pretty good. What made it perfect?”

  “I got a date with Trent Jackson on Saturday. At last!” I do a little dance.

  “Wait. What happened to Jason?”

  “Oh. Well. We just decided it wasn’t working out.” I shrug like it’s no big deal. Because it isn’t.

  “Really? You’re kidding.” Mom frowns and goes over to fluff the couch cushions. Then she flops on them. “I actually liked him. And you guys were so cute together.”

  That makes me frown. “You liked him? After the grilling you gave him before the luau?”

  “Well, c’mon, honey,” Mom smiles, twisting her long brown hair back into a knot. “He shows up topless to take you out for the first time. What do you expect?”

  “I guess.” I can’t help a tiny grin when I remember half-dressed Jason shaking my dad’s hand for the first time. He’s so crazy. But in a very irritating way, I remind myself, putting the brakes on that train of thought.

  “So Trent,” Mom continues. “He was the first one you were trying to go out with?”

  “That’s him!”

  “Well, great! Is he picking you up here?”

  “Yes, Mom. You’ll get to meet him.” I roll my eyes and walk over to the refrigerator, reaching inside for a soda. “Hey, you’ve probably already met him. His mom’s one of your clients.”

  “Who?”

  “Ms. Jackson?”

  “Oh. Really? They’re the ones over in the new development.” She releases her hair and picks up her yoga magazine avoiding my eyes. Very curious response.

  “Right,” I say, watching her.

  “I do remember her mentioning her son, but I guess I didn’t put you two together.” Mom flips through the pages without really paying attention. “Ricky’s taking her appointments now.”

  “He told me this morning.”

  Mom stops for a second as if she just remembered something.

  “So Ricky seemed very… upbeat this morning,” I say.

  “Did he?” She doesn’t seem impressed.

  “Yeah. Except I guess you weren’t here to see it.”

  “I haven’t seen him at all today.” She goes back to flipping.

  “Well, he was very upbeat,” I repeat, watching for any sign that it bothers her.

  My phone interrupts our conversation, and I dig in my bag to find it. Mom motions to me and walks over to the front door, opening it and going outside. I look at the number. It’s Stephanie Miller.

  “Harley?” She says in her direct, head-cheerleader-giving-orders voice.

  “Hey, Steph.”

  “Listen, Robin can’t make it to the game on Friday. Can you fill in? I mean, I know you’re dating Jason and all, but you’re a junior. And you’re sort-of the new person. So that means you have to fill in when a senior can’t cheer—”

  “Sure, Steph! No problem.”

  “Really?” It almost sounds like she’s relieved.

  “Yeah,” I say. “And I’m not dating Jason. I mean, we only went out like twice.”

  “Oh. I didn’t know.” She sounds even more surprised. “You guys looked really tight at school.”

  God, high school is so dumb. Two dates, and everyone thinks you’re engaged. “It’s okay,” I smile. “I’m actually going out with Trent on Saturday.”

  There’s a pause. And for a second I worry I might’ve offended her, but that wouldn’t make any sense. Stephanie dumped Trent. And it was almost two months ago.

  “Really?” I can tell she’s skeptical. “You’re going out with Trent.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Trent Jackson.”

  “That’s the one!” I say brightly.

  “Well, have fun.” It sounds like she means just the opposite. “But you’ll be there Friday?”

  “You bet!”

  “Okay. Thanks, Harley.”

  We hang up, and I stare at my phone a second. Stephanie didn’t sound mad that I’m dating Trent, but she certainly sounded surprised. Does she think I’m not good enough to date her ex-boyfriend? Just because she doesn’t want to go out with him anymore doesn’t mean I can’t. He might not be right for her, but she’s not the Queen of the World. Whatever. At least now I don’t have to worry about being home alone Friday night.

  “So it all worked out!” Shelly’s beaming as I get into her car the next morning.

  “What?”

  “You’re going out with Trent on Saturday and Stephanie says you’re cheering for Robin on Friday!”

  “Wow. News travels fast.” I pull the visor down to check my face in the mirror.

  “Steph called me first about Friday, but I told her to check with you and call me back.”

  “Thanks,” I say, raising my eyebrows. Mom’s health magazine said frowning causes premature aging.

  “Harley! I knew you didn’t have plans Friday, and I was hoping to be doing something with Jason.”

  “And are you?”

  “Yesss! We’re going to the game first and then after that, who cares! Sin City?”

  “Shelly.” For some reason, the thought of her being sinful with Jason makes me miserable. Which is ridiculous, since I don’t care what Jason does now. Because he’s just an irritant to me. That’s all.

  “He is so hot. I cannot wait til Friday. I can tell he’s the best kisser.”

  I close the visor and look out the wi
ndow. It doesn’t matter what kind of a kisser Jason is.

  Shelly glances at me. “So you’ll have to let me know.”

  “Know what?” I look back, trying not to frown.

  “What you think about Trent. You know, after your date Saturday.”

  “What do you mean, what I think about him?”

  “I’m just saying. He was a total cold fish with me. I’m wondering if he gives you the same treatment.”

  “You know, he could just be slow to warm up.” I think about how Trent is always polite. A perfect gentleman.

  “Maybe.” Shelly purses her lips and makes the turn into school. “But I’ve never had any problem warming guys up.”

  “You can be a bit much, you know.”

  She smiles and slants her eyes. “That’s just your daddy talking.”

  “My dad would flip out if he heard you half the time.”

  “Which is why he doesn’t. Ooo, lookie there. Yum!”

  Jason’s leaning against the Passat again, and the truth is, he does look good. Possibly even yum. But none of that matters to me now. He’s in the past, a problem I don’t have to think about anymore. Except for how I can totally predict his moves. Like for example, as I said, I had to ride around in the Gremlin and Shelly gets the luxury car. I get out and slam the door, walking straight to homeroom. I hear some remark directed at me, but I don’t turn around. I’m not even interested in hearing his voice today.

  And by third period, I realize I can’t stand to sit next to him for an entire hour. It’s simply too irritating. Or something. I wonder if I can do a quick visit to the nurse. Then I could just hang out in the library during lunch. Or the bathroom… I can’t believe Crash Boy is forcing me to hide out at my own school. Aren’t I lucky he came along and ruined my life ten days ago? God, has it only been ten days? Life changes so fast.

  I manage to make it through the end of the week and Friday’s the game. We all have to wear our cheerleading uniforms to school when there’s a home game, and I have to stay after to help make the signs and get the gym ready for tonight. Cheerleading’s as much a job as a sport.

  My neck’s still feeling stiff from the crash, and as I stand in front of my locker, I practice some of Mom’s stretching exercises. I don’t have to hurry to get to algebra now that Trent and I are going out, so I take a minute to close my eyes and lean my head to one side. I’m still stretching when two hands slid up my shoulders and started massaging my neck.

  “Better?” Jason whispers in my ear.

  Tingles race down my back. I jump forward and start grabbing my books. “Thanks. You don’t have to do that.”

  “I don’t mind. If it helps you feel better.” He’s standing too close to me, and his warm hands are still on my shoulders, making my heart beat faster. I’m trying to convince myself it’s anger, but I’ve never felt this way angry.

  “It’s your fault, you know.”

  “What?” I hear him frown. “Why?”

  “My neck’s been hurting ever since the wreck.”

  “I’m sorry.” He slides my hair to one side, and I feel his soft breath behind my ear just before his lips touch my skin. A sizzling charge shoots from my shoulder to my toes.

  “Jason!” I spin around to face him, covering the spot with my hand. “What are you doing?”

  My heart’s flying in my chest, and I can feel my cheeks turning pink. I quickly scan the halls, but it doesn’t look like anyone saw.

  “We’re not together anymore,” I say.

  He leans against the lockers and smiles at me like he knows his kiss felt amazing. “We never were.”

  I narrow my eyes and slam my locker door. He’s doing it again. Trying to wreck everything. “And now you’re dating Shelly,” I say. “Keep up.”

  I push past him and take off down the hall. I’m almost running. I need to find Trent, and there he is, waiting outside class for me when I arrive. It’s a nice change from before when I had to beat it to Mrs. Gipson’s room in the hopes of catching him before he disappeared. Now he actually waits around to see me.

  “Hi,” I say when I walk up and see him leaning against the lockers. He’s cute as ever, and so well-dressed. His faded jeans are rolled to the top of his boots, and he’s wearing a tan-plaid scarf over a dark v-neck sweater. Very J. Crew. I exhale and will myself to calm down and get over my unexpected detour into Jason-land.

  “Hey. I like your uniform.” He smiles. Perfect teeth.

  “Yeah, it’s very popular.” I smile back. “With at least half the student body.”

  Our cheerleading skirts are a bit short, I have to concede. But it isn’t like we don’t wear sport briefs under them. And mine are the boy-cut kind—my compromise with Dad.

  “I hate that I’ll miss the game. I always like watching you guys.”

  “That’s sweet,” I say, still smiling.

  “So I’ll pick you up tomorrow?”

  “Seven o’clock!” I chirp and do a little bounce.

  He laughs. “See ya.”

  I watch him leave, glowing with the knowledge that in just a few more hours we’ll have our first official date. And he seems really psyched about it now. I told Shelly she’s just too overpowering. Trent’s one of those quiet types. You have to coax him out. Use a little patience. I’m so encouraged I do a little skip into class. But I stop when I see Jason’s eyebrows rise. I narrow my eyes at him and slide into my desk. He leans forward.

  “Now, see. You complain about the car, but why didn’t you ever wear that when we were fake dating?”

  “Shh!” I frown at him. “That’s not to get out. Ever.”

  “I’m just sayin.”

  “There weren’t any home games when we were together,” I hiss.

  “Well, shit, H.D., you could’ve given me a few more days!”

  I frown at him. “You know, just because we broke up doesn’t mean you can start cussing all over me again.”

  He grins and leans back in his chair. Mrs. Gipson comes in and starts class. I pull out my notebook and give her my undivided attention. I do not look to my left once.

  I don’t really mind cheering at basketball games. For one, I understand what’s happening much better than I do at the football games. Football has so many odd penalties that are always changing, and the point system is so bizarre. I usually just watch my fellow cheerleaders during them and start yelling after everyone else does. But basketball is straight-forward. I know what’s happening, and the games are super-fast. We’re finished in less than two hours compared to football’s four.

  Mom drives me to the gym tonight because Dad has to do a hospital visit. She’s only staying for the first half, and I tell her I’ll catch a ride home with Robin or Meg. I do my banana jump, and she smiles and does a thumbs up from where she sits. I smile back and shake a pom pom at her. Then I notice Shelly arrive with Jason. They go high in the bleachers and sit. Her hand never leaves his knee, and his eyes never leave me. But I ignore them. Sort of.

  Then I notice Ms. Jackson walk in with Ricky… and Trent! He made it after all! I skip over to where he sits.

  “Hey!” I say, smiling, slightly breathless. “I didn’t think you’d make it to the game!”

  “Yeah,” he says. “Mom had her massage, and then we were just sitting around.”

  “I thought she had something?” I guess he forgot he’d told me that.

  “No,” he says. He seems a little nervous tonight. Or excited. That has to be it—he’s excited to see me and anxious like I am about tomorrow night.

  “So you decided to come here?” I ask.

  “Well, we were just sitting around.”

  “Yeah?” He already told me that part.

  “And I suggested we go to the game.”

  Just then Ricky walks up.

  “Hey, Harley,” he smiles.

  “Hey,” I say. I’m not so glad to see him, even if it does appear he’s moved on from chasing married women to chasing divorcées.

  “Is your mom by
herself?” he asks, frowning. Then again, maybe I’m wrong.

  “Dad couldn’t make it,” I say. “But he comes to all the football games when I cheer.”

  “I’m sure.” He turns and goes to where Mom’s sitting alone in the bleachers. I watch her face brighten, and she smiles at him as he climbs up to meet her.

  “Well, I have to get back,” I say to Trent. “See you after the game?”

  “We might not stay til the end,” he says.

  “Oh. Well, tomorrow then?”

  “Yep.” He smiles, and I look at his sweet lips. Tomorrow I’ll get to find out what it’s like to kiss them. Go, Panthers!

  Trent walks to where his mother’s sitting on the far end alone with a super-annoyed look on her face. I follow her eyes and wince. Ricky’s parked right next to my mom, and the two are just chatting away oblivious to how they appear. Mom laughs and covers her eyes, and Ricky grabs her arm and shakes it. Wrinkles or not, I’m frowning as I clap my poms together. They look like two teenagers on a date. And right here in front of everybody! I can’t believe it.

  My eyes drift to Jason, who’s still watching me. I only glance at him once, but I can see he isn’t smiling either. He actually looks concerned. I just shake my head at him and turn back to the game.

  After our half-time show, Mom and Ricky finally break it up, and he helps her down the wobbly bleachers. At the bottom he says something to her, and she smiles and squeezes his arm. Then she turns and walks to me. Trent and his mom are also collecting their things, and I recognize the look on Mrs. Jackson’s face—like she wants to jerk Mom’s ponytail. I could die.

  Mom doesn’t notice any of it, as usual. She combs a stray hair back from my face with her fingers. “Would you mind if I leave now?” she asks. “Those bleachers are killer on my back.”

  I’m still frowning, but I nod. “I’ll come straight home,” I say, just in case she’s planning on having a visitor.

  “I’ll probably be in bed,” she smiles, then she kisses my cheek.

  I catch a ride home with Shelly and Jason after the game. I don’t really want to, but Jason insists, and now that he has a nice, four-door Passat, how can I refuse? The whole ride I’m completely distracted thinking about Mom and Ricky and Ms. Jackson’s face.