The Charade

by Judy Corry

  The bell rang, and I fully planned to join Jess and Eliana in their meeting today. I could pretend to be a Mathlete. It might be kind of nice to have built-in tutors everywhere.

  I took my time packing up my things from Ceramics. If I waited in here for a few minutes, then I wouldn’t have to run into Noah during lunch.

  But Noah must have had the same idea because when I stepped out into the hall, I came face to face with my ex for the first time since our breakup. My breath caught in my throat. He looked even better than he had when we were dating. And not seeing him in two months hadn't changed anything about my body's reaction to him. He still had the same dark brooding brown eyes and auburn hair with a slight curl in it.

  He seemed to take in my appearance as well, and I couldn't help but wonder what he thought about seeing me again.

  "Saw your boyfriend-wanted posters this morning," he said in his deep, gravelly voice. "Having a hard time getting along without me?"

  I flushed, my brain scrambling for a response. "I didn't put those flyers up."

  He crossed his arms and chuckled. "Yeah, well, if anybody tries to fill the ad, I'll tell them not to waste their time."

  My eyes instantly burned at his words and the memories they evoked. I had put up with so much while we dated, and now I was a waste of time?

  I pinched my eyes shut and sucked in a quick breath, willing the tears to stay inside. I couldn't let Noah know his words had any effect on me. He didn't deserve to have that kind of power over me anymore.

  "Goodbye, Noah." I whirled around and walked away, knowing I wouldn't be able to keep the tears at bay for much longer.

  "See ya."

  While Luke Davenport was mostly annoying, Noah Taylor was the bad habit I'd broken too late.

  Chapter Two

  "Thank you, Mr. Sawyer, for never locking this room," I whispered under my breath as I slipped into the dark Chemistry lab and sat down on the floor beside the door. I felt like a coward hiding in here during lunch, but I was going to explode if one more stranger came up and told me how sorry they were to hear about my mom dying this summer. Sure, posting those "boyfriend wanted" posters for Ashlyn had distracted everyone for a while, but apparently, our school counselor thought I was "acting out." And to help me "grieve" in a more appropriate way, she had rallied a committee of do-gooders to try and cheer me up.

  But I didn't need a bunch of girls looking at me with their sad, pitying eyes, trying to get me to talk about my "feelings." These pranks had been awesome last year when my mom was sick, why shouldn't they help me now?

  My stomach growled, reminding me it was there. I smothered it with my arms.

  Just a few more minutes and I could sneak out to my Jeep to grab some lunch.

  I was about to stand when the door opened, and someone tripped over my sprawled legs.

  Oof!

  "Sorry!" a female voice squealed as she landed on me.

  A girl? Had one of those do-gooders followed me here? How many people had the school counselor told?

  I tried to help the girl get up, but it was so dark and there were no windows here—our heads crashed together instead.

  "Ouch!" she said.

  "Sorry." I rubbed my forehead where our skulls had collided.

  We righted ourselves, and I leaned back against the wall of cupboards behind us. She scooted a few feet away.

  We sat in silence for a few moments until I heard her sniffling like she was trying not to cry.

  "Are you okay? Did my head hurt you?" She sniffled again, so I asked, "Are you crying?"

  "No," she said, her voice uneven. "I'm just hiding from a stupid jerk."

  There was something familiar about her voice.

  I couldn't have everyone at school knowing the football captain hid in the Chemistry lab during lunch, so I lowered my voice, just in case this was someone I knew. "Who's the jerk?"

  Okay, it sounded like I had a bad cold, but hopefully, I hadn't said enough earlier for her to notice the difference. Was it too late to start using my fake British accent? I was excellent at impersonations. Random talent, but it did come in handy sometimes.

  "Nobody important," she said.

  Okay, so some dude made her cry. She probably wouldn't want to be in the same room as me after hearing what I'd done that morning. Luckily for me though, Ashlyn hadn't cried. She was too mad to do that. Boy, was I going to be in trouble once she figured out how to get me back. She always came back with something strong.

  "If it makes you feel better, I think he's a jerk too." I tried to make it sound like I was joking, but somehow my fake British accent slipped out when I said those words. Oh well, not like it mattered. We were sitting in the dark, and I'd be leaving soon anyway.

  She laughed, and I felt like I'd been hit by a sack of rocks. I knew that laugh. I'd heard that sweet melodic sound about a billion times last year in Foods class.

  This girl was Ashlyn Brooks.

  Crap! My stomach shrunk in on itself. Had she been crying because of my prank this morning? She'd seemed fine when I talked to her. Maybe her tears were because of my friends' texts? I'd told them to keep it clean—to just have fun with her. But I should have realized that was impossible. Kellen and Jake had a few too many concussions to follow my directions very well.

  "You don't even know which jerk I'm talking about." She laughed again.

  Oh, but I did. She was talking about me. I needed to get out of there before she figured out who I was. I snuck a peek in her direction and was grateful I could barely make out her silhouette. If I couldn't pick out much about her, then hopefully she couldn't see much of me. I moved my leg closer to the sliver of light coming from under the door, just in case.

  "Sorry about tripping over you," she said like she still had no idea who I was.

  I cleared my throat and focused on maintaining my British accent. "Sorry about blocking the door." Okay, Luke, it's time to leave now. You’re pushing your luck every second you stay in here.

  But my legs seemed to be frozen to the tiled floor. Plus, if I did leave, I'd have to open the door and the light would give away who I was. And then she would hate me even more for disguising my voice. So I sat there.

  "Are you from England or something?"

  Definitely or something. "Uh, yeah. I moved here over the summer."

  "What part of England?" she asked like she thought it was so cool. Or hot. My ex-girlfriend always said my impression of a British guy was sexy.

  "I'm from London."

  "That's so cool! I've always wanted to visit."

  "You should. It's nice…and overcast?" You're an idiot, Luke. I needed to stop pretending like I knew anything about England when the extent of my knowledge came from the Pride and Prejudice-type movies my mom had me watch with her when she was sick.

  "Is it weird that I want to sit in the dark for a while longer?" she asked.

  "Depends."

  "Depends on what?"

  "Depends on whether you think it's weird that I want to stay in here too." Which was so strange because it was true. Ashlyn and I were supposed to be sworn rivals.

  She laughed. Maybe that was a good sign? I heard her shift on the tile floor like she was getting comfortable.

  "What were you doing sitting here in the dark anyway?" she asked.

  I bit my lip, trying to decide if I wanted to tell her the truth or not. There was something about the anonymity that made me feel like I could tell her anything. Here in the dark, I could be anyone.

  I could be myself.

  Or at least my real self who also happened to have a British accent and a really deep voice.

  "I was hiding," I said.

  "Hiding from who?"

  Reality.

  I shook my head. "Doesn't matter. I just need to lay low for a few minutes."

  "Looks like neither one of us wants to say much about why we're in here," she said. "I guess I better get going anyway."

  "Wait!" I said, surprising myself.

  She see
med to startle. "Why?"

  "Because I-I still don't know anything about you," I lied. Why was I doing this? I should be relieved she wanted to go, not suddenly interested in getting to know Ashlyn better.

  I expected her to stand. But she didn't. "What do you want to know?" she asked in a soft voice.

  I thought about it. "Hmmm. It's kind of fun not knowing who I'm talking to, so let's set up some rules."

  "Rules?"

  I smiled, though I knew she couldn't see it. "Yes, rules. This is likely the only opportunity we'll ever have to get to know someone without seeing them first. It's like the ultimate clean slate, aside from the fact that I know you're a girl, and you know I'm a guy."

  "And that you're from England."

  Right.

  I continued, "We should make a rule that we can only speak the truth in here. No saying something just because we think that's what people want to hear. Wouldn't it be nice to get to know someone with all the walls down?" The irony of my whole honesty comment was not lost on me as I used my fake accent.

  She was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "That would be nice. There're no pre-judgments based on looks, reputation, or anything. We can get to know the real us." I heard a smile in her voice. "I kind of like that idea."

  "Good." I found myself smiling as well. "So, tell me about yourself, Mystery Girl. Tell me things you don't tell anyone else."

  "Mystery Girl?" She laughed. "I'm not that interesting."

  "Oh, but you are. I'm already intrigued." What could Ashlyn Brooks darkest secrets be?

  She laughed again. "Are we talking surface-level stuff or deep stuff?"

  "I'm tired of the surface level. That's all anyone wants to hear these days. Let's go scuba diving."

  "Scuba diving?" Her voice was covered in disbelief. "Are you sure?"

  "Definitely."

  "Okay, you asked for it," she said in a low voice. She was quiet for a long time, but then she let out a tiny giggle. "I really, really like the color blue. Like, every time I'm outside I look at the sky and sigh."

  What? "Are you for real?"

  It sounded like her shoulders were shaking against the cupboards, almost as if she was suppressing her laughter. "Sorry, I had to. Things were way too serious in here."

  I shook my head and smiled at this version of Ashlyn that I'd never known was there.

  "How about I go first then," I said. But as soon as I said that, I had nothing interesting to say. Nothing that would fit this all-important moment of finally letting someone know who Luke Davenport was beneath all the layers and masks…and fake accents.

  "It's harder than you thought, huh?" she said, seeming to understand my hesitation.

  "Yeah." I sighed. "The only thing I could come up with was that my favorite food is pizza."

  More laughter from her. Score! Maybe scuba diving wasn't that important anyway. She'd been on the verge of crying when she first came in here…because of me…and now she was laughing…also because of me. If anything, that made this interaction a success.

  Her phone buzzed from inside her bag, and she pulled it out. The screen lit up, which let me see her profile better: Perfectly straight nose. Full lips. Dainty chin. Yep, it was definitely Ashlyn.

  She groaned, and then said, "I better go. Maybe we should try telling our deepest darkest secrets again sometime."

  My breath caught in my throat. Really? She wanted to meet me again? "Yeah, that would be cool. Wanna try again tomorrow? Same time, same place, same lighting?" My pulse throbbed as I waited for her to respond. Who knew the possibility of being rejected by Ashlyn could be so scary?

  "I can't tomorrow, but how about Monday?" she said to my relief.

  "Monday would be great."

  "Okay, I really do need to leave now. Promise you won't look?" she asked.

  I smiled. "I'll even wait a few minutes before I come out, for good measure."

  She stood, and I moved my legs out of the way so she wouldn't trip over them again. I heard her hand fumbling around before she opened the door. When the light from the hallway poured in, I lifted my backpack in front of my face in case she glanced back.

  The door shut behind her and the room was dark again.

  I sighed, leaning my head against the cupboard. I had no idea what I was doing, or if I could even keep this fake British guy act up, but I hoped she’d come back, because that was the first real conversation I'd had since my mom died.

  Want to find out what happens next? Read Meet Me There here.

  About the Author

  * * *

  Judy Corry is the USA Today Bestselling Author of YA and Contemporary Romance. She writes romance because she can't get enough of the feeling of falling in love. She's known for writing heart-pounding kisses, endearing characters, and hard-won happily ever afters.

  She lives in Southern Utah with the boy who took her to Prom, their four rambunctious children and a dog. She's addicted to love stories, dark chocolate and notebooks.