She cackles as Gabi hops into the backseat. Pressing her face between the headrests, Gabi lays her hand to my forehead to check for a fever. “Seriously, who the hell are you and what have you done with my best friend?”
I knock her hand away with a laugh—or, rather, an attempted laugh. With my entire body becoming one big shake, it comes out more like a wheeze. “I-I don’t know,” I admit, still not quite sure what happened either. Kara jumps in the driver’s side, guns the engine, and I say, “I-I can’t feel my legs.”
“Worth it,” Kara declares, throwing the car into reverse. “Did you see her face?” She backs up one-handed as she huffs on the fingernails of the other and pretends to polish them on her shirt. “I taught you everything you know.”
Gabi snorts. “Yeah, Kar, ’cause you’re the hard ass of the group.”
As we speed out of the parking lot, I lean forward, throwing my head between my legs. Adrenaline is pumping through me so fast, it’s like my team just won a championship. I breathe deep through chattering teeth, willing my body to calm down, and say, “Th-that. Was. A rush.”
Kara whoops again, and I inhale another deep breath, letting it out as I slowly sit back up. And then, I start giggling. Uncontrollably. Tears actually spring to my eyes, but for the first time in what feels like weeks, it’s from happiness, not heartbreak.
Kara joins in, propping her chest against the steering wheel as she drives, she’s laughing so hard, and through the happy tears, I check my seatbelt, confirming it’s secure. Wiping mascara smudges from under my eyes, I turn in my seat, realizing Gabi’s suspiciously quiet. Considering how many times Hurricane Gabi has struck and how much Lauren annoys her, it worries me that she’s not laughing.
Looking into her eyes, I wince and ask, “Was I too bitchy?”
That shocks the weird look from her face. “What? Hell no! If anything, you were still too nice. I just wish I could’ve gotten a jab in, too,” she admits. “You going off like that just had me too damn shocked.”
“Yeah, you and me both.” The memory plays back in my head, and another giggle-fit shakes my shoulders.
Holy crap, I just told off the captain of the dance team. In public!
As awesome as that is—and it truly is—Lauren was right about one thing: I did try to change everything about myself during this process. And I failed on an epic scale in almost every attempt.
In trying to keep things casual, I realized I do like commitments.
In going after Justin, I discovered he’s not the guy for me.
And in my need to fit this stereotypical mold of what I thought a Casual should look like, I reaffirmed my belief that heels are from the devil.
But I also stood up for myself today and faced down the queen of the school, something I never thought I could do. I also rocked karaoke. As terrifying as performing in front of a crowd was, it was also pretty freaking exhilarating. Maybe I do have a little Casual buried deep inside after all. Maybe I always have. Or maybe it’s that we’re like that ’80s movie, The Breakfast Club, where we’re all a little bit of everyone.
We’re all undefinable.
Kara whips her car into a gas station. “Trust me, Aly, Lauren had that coming.”
“Yeah, she kinda did,” I say, turning the ring on my finger. “But you know, she had a point though.”
Gabi psshaws from the back. “Are you kidding me? She acted like you ran into her on purpose. She overreacted, and you rocked. Don’t let her steal that away now.”
“No, I’m not.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and slide a leg under me, shifting my back against the window so I can face them both. “That’s not what I mean. I meant with her gunning after me to begin with. She’s pissed because Brandon picked me over her, and that is pretty unfathomable.” Kara opens her mouth to argue, but I shake my head. “Because he didn’t. Our whole hookup thing was just another part of Operation Sex Appeal. It was an act.”
Kara flicks her wrist, turning off the engine, and the silence speaks volumes. Her eyes are wide and Gabi bolts up. A slideshow of reactions plays across their faces, both ending on bewilderment.
“I don’t understand,” Kara says, hurt making her voice soft. “Why wouldn’t you tell us?”
I hang my head and clamp my eyes shut. “I was embarrassed! I mean, a fake hookup? Who does that, right? When I suggested it, I never thought Brandon would go for it, and when he did, I don’t know… I just assumed y’all would try to talk me out of it. Or tell me I was taking the makeover too far. Or that I’d finally lost it. All reactions that, in hindsight, would’ve been completely accurate.” Shoving my fingers through my hair, I squeeze my head as the last few weeks rush over me. “After it was over, I still couldn’t admit I lied. Besides, by then I’d fallen for him anyway, so that part was honest. Just the part about him being in love with me wasn’t.”
Gabi tosses her seatbelt aside and slides her folded arms on my seat. Laying her head on top of them, she says, “Aly, I do crazy crap all the time. No matter what stupidity you land yourself in, I’m not gonna judge you. It pisses me off that you didn’t know that.”
“I do know that,” I tell her, putting my hand on her arm. “This was a me thing, not you. And I’m sorry. Believe me, it’s not gonna happen again. I’m done with lying, games, manipulation, all of it. It’s too exhausting.”
“So it was all fake?” Kara scrunches her mouth like she is confused. “Even that kiss I heard so much about?”
My lips tingle at the memory, and I feel a blush creep up my neck. “No. Well, it started as fake, just like the rest. Gabi dared us, so we had to do it.” I bite my lip. “But then it became very real. It was just that one time, but…” I duck my head and grin. “…it was good.”
Gabi snickers, but Kara presses on. “And what about the dance? Those tears in your eyes were real, girlfriend.”
The grin falls from my face. “Like I said, I did fall for him. But I don’t know, I guess Brandon figured out how I was feeling and it got too complicated for him.”
“I don’t buy it,” Gabi declares, exchanging a look with Kara. “Not the fake-relationship part, but the Brandon-not-falling-for-you bit. I saw the two of you together, and you know I enjoyed watching his reaction to you and Justin hooking up. No one’s that good of an actor, Aly. Trust me.”
I sigh. “Oh, how I wish that was true, Gabriella.”
Kara taps her finger on her lip, like a detective on the hunt for clues. “You said he figured out you were falling for him. Did he tell you that? Or did you just assume?”
“Call it a hunch. My feelings got all crazy-like, things got weird, he freaked, and we called it off.” I throw my back against the door, remembering the pain of that night. And every night since. I shrug hopelessly. “It’s the only explanation that makes sense.”
Gabi rolls her eyes. “Ms. Reed, you are so adorably clueless sometimes.”
“And you’re so much better?” I ask, scowling at her sudden woman-of-the-world exterior. “Has anything happened on the Carlos front this week?”
That smirk disappears with a quickness. “Actually, we talked this morning in detention.”
“And?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“And it was nice,” she answered defensively.
Now it is my turn to roll my eyes. “In other words, you still haven’t admitted you like him. To him or yourself.” Her cell phone interrupts her growling fit, the theme song to Jaws she assigned to her mom, and I smile sweetly. “Saved by the ring.”
Gabi yanks her phone from her bag and sends the call to voicemail. If her mom’s calling, it means the school is already on to us. It’s only a matter of time before Kara and I are summoned, too. Keeping her eyes on the phone, she says quietly. “You do it, I’ll do it.”
I blink, sure I heard her wrong. “What?”
She lifts her head and repeats, “You do it, I’ll do it. If you tell Brandon you want him, I’ll do the same with Carlos.”
Kara looks at me with eager eyes, so
I close mine. “I can’t, Gabi. I tried it already freshman year, and it didn’t work. Don’t ask me to do it again. It hurts too much.”
ALY
ALY’S HOUSE, 8:50 p.m.
“Jenga, Jenga, Jenga.”
Mom fully believes the chant holds magical powers to assist in removing her block. When the tower doesn’t fall, she smiles triumphantly. I shake my head and lift my hand for my turn. I slowly tug my block forward, sans chant, and Mom tsks her disapproval.
“That’s okay, honey, I believe enough for the both of us.” Then she chants again, winking so I know she hasn’t completely boarded the crazy train.
A tremor rocks my hand as I slide the last bit of the piece out. The tower wobbles, and the four of us take a collective breath. When it doesn’t fall, everyone cheers.
A night with my nut job of a family is exactly what I need. The school did call my parents, but when I told them everything that’s happened the last month (well, the parent-approved version), they let me off with a weekend on restriction. Considering I no longer have a social life, I figure I got off extremely easy. Besides, this is nice. Dad grilling steaks. Mom forcing us to taste-test her latest creation—a kicked-up Cajun spinach and artichoke dip. Kaitie and I pigging out and pretending we’re both traumatized by our parents’ flirting. This feels normal.
I miss normal.
The timer for Mom’s baked macaroni goes off, and I put my hand on her arm. “I got it. You take my turn. Just don’t forget to chant.”
Stepping through the back door, the cool air-conditioning hits my warm skin and I shiver. I pad into the kitchen, rubbing my arms, and peer inside the oven. Noticing the top isn’t quite as toasty as Mom likes, I close the door and add another five minutes to the timer.
The kitchen is quiet. No hiding in here. I push myself onto the counter, kick my feet, and heave a sigh, giving in to the thoughts that have run through my head for hours.
Operation Sex Appeal was the stupidest scheme in the history of forever. Oh, it succeeded in changing surface stuff, but it never gave me the confidence I hoped for. Probably because the girl getting noticed wasn’t me. There is some of that girl in me, but I’m also the cute and funny friend, the girl who likes relationships and prefers walking down the hall without feeling like her butt is hanging out of short shorts. I’m me, and that’s okay. Actually, it’s more than okay. It’s pretty freaking fabulous.
Sitting up tall, I announce to the quiet room, “As of this moment, Operation Sex Appeal is officially called on account of stupidity.”
The room doesn’t respond, but saying the words aloud releases a weight off my chest. I don’t even care that Homecoming is a week away. If I can’t go with Brandon, I don’t want to go anyway. There’s still time to wrangle up a just-a-friend date or maybe even a real one, but I want more.
I want a relationship.
And I want it with Brandon.
Well, that ain’t happening, kid, so what else you got?
The buzzer goes off again, and I hop down. I slide the bubbling macaroni out of the oven, humming “Summer Nights” from Grease, the song I performed with Brandon on the camping trip.
Stepping outside, I sing, “He showed off, splashing around,” and Mom claps her hands.
“Oh, I love that movie!” A wistful smile touches her lips, and she says, “I told you I played Rizzo in high school, didn’t I?”
“What?!” The image of Mom playing the bad girl of Rydell High doesn’t compute. Like, at all. I knew she did some theater when she was younger, and she sings along with the radio all the time, but singing in a musical is a big deal.
She nods. “Long time ago.” Hugging her arms around her waist, she gets a faraway look in her eyes. “Only time I ever sang on stage, but man, what a rush.”
“Yeah, it is,” I whisper to myself.
Shaking herself out of her memories, Mom pats my head and scoops a large serving of macaroni onto my plate.
She’s right. Singing on stage is a rush—much better than my nightly serenades to my toothbrush. A thought suddenly comes to me, and I bite my lip, wondering if I have the guts to act on it. Maybe this is a sign from the universe that, while I write off the male species, call off the makeover mission, and give up on Homecoming, I can still do one last thing just for me.
Maybe Operation Sex Appeal has one final phase.
I take a deep breath and say, “Hey, did I tell y’all I’m thinking of singing at the Spirit Day Talent Show?”
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 24TH
1 week and 1 day until Homecoming
ALY
FAIRFIELD ACADEMY, 12:15 p.m.
Kara sets her tray down and slides into the bright orange plastic chair across from me, taking in the cafeteria’s arranged social order with obvious disgust. After yesterday’s showdown, I think we all expected a fallout. Some sort of change. We expected…something. Instead, Lauren’s pretending like it never happened, and everyone else is following suit.
Shaking her head, sending the ends of her cute bob flying, Kara says, “All these people need to go see Mom for a counseling session. People here need some serious therapy.” She forks a cherry tomato from her salad and pops it in her mouth.
I push my mashed potatoes around on my plate, mounding them into a hill and then flattening them out. As I drag my fork through them in a zigzag design, I feel the weight of Gabi’s gaze. “What?”
“Nothing,” she says, abandoning her steak in lieu of her chocolate cookie. Breaking off a corner, she waves it over my plate. “I was just observing the lovely food art you were creating. Obviously you are fully sane and not distracted at all.” She takes a bite and smirks.
“Not distracted,” I say, sighing and shoving away my tray. “Contemplative. I made an important decision last night.”
This morning, I decided to act on my kitchen declaration, and the result has been surprising. While my inward shift feels monumental—comfort in my own skin is something I’ve chased for years—the outward change is more subtle. Thanks to the uniform we all wear, I still kinda look like the new Aly my classmates have gotten to know. My hair is down, rather than in a ponytail because I’ve learned I like it that way, and this morning I found a new balance with my makeup, using lighter, natural colors. So I’m not surprised my friends haven’t seen the change. But I want them to know.
Making sure I have their attention, I announce, “Say goodbye to the makeover portion of Operation Sex Appeal. The time for pretending to be a sexy bombshell is over. Clearly, I am the cute and funny friend, and wonders of wonders, I’m finally okay with that.”
Gabi smiles—a real one, not a smirk, a rarity for her. She bumps my shoulder and says, “About time you figured that out.”
Kara nods. “I agree. I know I aided and abetted the whole thing, but Gabi was right. It wasn’t you.”
Next to me, Gabi pretends to choke on her cookie. She takes a large slurp of her chocolate milk and looks up with wide eyes. “I’m sorry. Can you say that again? Something about Gabi being…right?”
Kara throws a cucumber slice at her and grins. “But the entire mission thing hasn’t been a completely wasted exercise. There were some definite memorable moments.”
“Couldn’t agree with you more,” I say, my eyes tracking a certain boy as he pockets his wallet and heads toward his usual table. “Hey, Carlos!” He straightens in surprise, and I smile. “Can you come here for a minute?”
He strolls over and sets his tray next to Gabi’s, darting his eyes between the two of us. “Yes, Miss Aly?”
“Last week, you suggested we pair up for tonight’s talent show and I declined,” I say, my throat closing around the words. I cannot believe I’m doing this. Clearing my throat, I press on with only a slight waver in my voice. “I’ve been thinking about it, and I was curious if the offer is still on the table?”
Carlos jumps back, looking as shocked by my words as I am. He shakes his head, and the corner of his mouth kicks up. “Hell yeah.” He spins the chair next
to Gabi’s, apparently deciding to stay, and straddles it. “Girl, as long as you’re singing, we can do anything ya want. But you don’t think it’s too late to enter?”
Sneaking a glance at my statue-like friends, I almost laugh out loud. “Nope. You can sign up until the end of school today.”
Kara unfreezes first. “Are you serious?” She drums on the table and throws her head back in an enthusiastic whoop. “Aly, this is huge! Seriously, whatever you’ve been having for breakfast this week, keep it up.”
Gabi grabs my shoulder, pulls me closer, and slaps the back of her hand on my forehead. “Patient doesn’t appear to be feverish. Maybe I’m the one hallucinating. Aly, you just said Operation Sex Appeal’s over.”
Carlos’s head swivels at the words sex appeal, and I knock her hand away with a smile. “No, I said the makeover portion is over. This is a new phase, and it’s just for me. I’m gonna be scared out of my mind, but I want to do this. I need to try.”
Gabi stares at me intently and nods. Then she takes a deep breath and turns to face the high-school boy sitting next to her, who seems thoroughly confused by our conversation. “Carlos, I know it’s next week, but do you maybe wanna go to Homecoming with me? No big deal or anything,” she adds quickly, shaking her head and fidgeting with her heavy rope chain. “I totally get it if you already have a date or think it’s lame or whatever.”
Carlos’s smile spreads over his entire face. He reaches out, cups her chin, and presses a light kiss on her lips. Gabi’s shocked eyes flutter closed, and when she opens them with a dazed look on her face, Carlos answers, “I’d love to.” He lifts his head to look at me and announces, “Wow! I don’t know what the hell’s happening, but I am on fire today!”
Gabi giggles and then slaps her hand across her mouth. Kara kicks my foot under the table and flashes a maniacal grin. I attempt to match it, struggling to keep the jealousy at bay. I’m happy for Gabi.
The Fine Art of Pretending Page 21