Resisting the Rebel

by Lisa Brown Roberts

  Mandy laughed. “Was it as good as Sky High?”

  J.T. snorted. “Not even close.”

  …

  Fine with me, Caleb’s dad texted. Glad to see you getting involved in something at school.

  Caleb didn’t need to ask permission for the house invasion since his dad was never home, but he hoped it might bump his ranking in his dad’s never-ending assessment of Caleb’s performance as a crappy son. He’d been right.

  Helen slid a plate of brownies toward him as he sat at the enormous granite-topped kitchen island. He glanced at her and smiled. She was possibly the only person in his life he liked having around. He took a bite of brownie. He should bring these to the stupid bake sale; they could charge five bucks apiece and people would pay it.

  “Bad day?” she asked, wiping her hands on her apron. Helen was tall and fit, with short dark hair and sharp blue eyes that missed nothing, but she spoiled him like a sugary sweet TV grandma.

  He took a drink from the glass of milk she’d poured for him. Sometimes he still felt like a little kid when he hung out with Helen. She’d been with their family since forever.

  Since before. And after.

  “Yeah,” he said around a mouthful of chocolate. “I got, uh…drafted onto a stupid committee.” He paused to drink more milk. “The kitchen is going to be trashed Sunday. The most obnoxious people in school are coming over to bake for a fu—stupid bake sale.” He glowered at the plate of brownies as if they were somehow to blame, then glanced up.

  Helen’s hand stilled on her apron. “Really? How interesting.” She picked up a cleaning rag and wiped down the spotless counter. “I’ll come over to help.”

  Caleb almost choked. “No. You don’t have to do that.” It would be awful enough having to survive it; he didn’t want any witnesses to the humiliation. “Besides, that’s your time off. Trust me, you don’t want to spend time with the psychos coming over here.”

  Helen raised her eyebrows. “You don’t think my pastries are bake-sale-worthy?”

  He grinned, knowing she wasn’t serious. “Of course they are. But there’s like a million people coming over. I’m sure they’ll make plenty of stuff. You don’t need to bake anything.” He took another bite and chewed. “I’ll make sure everything’s cleaned up.” He wouldn’t leave her with the disaster zone he knew Mandy would leave in her wake.

  Just the thought of Disco buzzing around his house like a psychedelic butterfly made his head hurt. He hoped Elle dialed back the crazy, and that Gus dumped Kay soon and asked Mandy to the dance, because he didn’t know how much more of this fake boyfriend stuff he could tolerate.

  Helen took a brownie and sat down across from him. “Caleb, I’ll be here. Your dad will be out of town, and I don’t want those kids ruining my KitchenAid. That mixer is like a second grandchild to me.”

  Caleb smiled. Helen had been the most steady person in his life for a long time. And she was at least as stubborn as he was. “Okay,” he said, shrugging, “but don’t say I didn’t warn you. It’s going to be like a Disney cartoon mashed up with a horror movie.” He pretended to shudder. “Cheerleaders, pep squad, band people. Total invasion of the soul-snatchers.”

  Helen’s laugh was deep and full. She reached across the counter to swat him on the shoulder, and it occurred to him that she was the only person on the planet who could get away with that. “You’re so dramatic, Caleb. I’m sure they’re great kids.”

  He snorted, picturing Mandy and her minions. “Yeah,” he mumbled sarcastically. “The greatest.”

  …

  Mandy sat in the living room of the small duplex she shared with her grandma, brother, and dad, when he wasn’t on the road hauling Walmart junk across the country in a ginormous semi.

  She added the final song to her baking playlist, ridiculously pleased with herself. Caleb would hate it, which made her smile, but her smile quickly morphed into a frown. It was totally bad karma to want to make someone else miserable, even if that someone was a jerk. Everything happens for a reason, she told herself for the hundredth time. Even the fake boyfriend thing.

  Her brother Reg crashed into the kitchen, startling her out of her reverie as he banged pans on the counter and rattled through the refrigerator.

  “Shh,” Mandy hissed. She hurried into the kitchen. “Gran’s sleeping. Keep it down.”

  He glanced at her, his gaze glassy and unfocused. Stoned again. Great.

  “What are you doing tonight, Reg?” She hoped he’d stay home with her and Gran instead of going out with his idiot friends.

  “None of your business.”

  “Maybe you could stick around tonight,” Mandy pressed. “We could watch a movie. I’ll make popcorn.” Like we used to, she thought, before you started smoking weed.

  “No way,” he said, wincing like she’d stabbed him.

  She glared at him. “I’m still mad at you for not picking me up from that party Saturday night.”

  “You got a ride somehow,” he said, grabbing his stinky-smelling burrito from the microwave.

  “From freaking Caleb Torrs!” Mandy whisper-yelled, resuscitating her four-day-old frustration with her brother.

  He stopped mid-burrito bite to stare at her. “Torrs? Really?”

  Mandy nodded. “It was…weird.”

  “Did he, uh, put the moves on you?”

  Was her brother actually showing concern? That was a shocker.

  “No, he didn’t.” Not that night, Mandy thought, trying not to think about his fake moves in the car and in the hallway today at school. And at Starbucks, with the straw sucking. She grabbed a yogurt from the fridge and ripped the lid off, then grabbed a spoon from the drawer.

  Reg grunted. “Yeah, no surprise there.” He took a huge bite of burrito.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “You’re not his type,” Reg said around his mouthful of beans and cheese. “Too weird.”

  So much for brotherly concern.

  “For your information, Caleb and I are…” Crap. What should she tell him? Her brother would know if she had a real boyfriend, right? She swallowed, then straightened her shoulders. “It so happens I am his type. He and I are officially a thing.”

  Reg’s mouth dropped open, giving her a disgusting view of his snack.

  “No way. No fucking way.”

  Her body tensed. Was it really so impossible to believe that she and Caleb could be a real couple? “Yes. Yes f-ing way.” She was trying really hard not to use f-bombs, because it bugged her dad.

  Reg swallowed his food, then shook his head. “Don’t get knocked up, sis. There’s only one reason Torrs would go out with you—”

  Without pausing to think, she catapulted a spoonful of yogurt at him, proud of her direct aim. He sputtered as the pink slime slid down his face.

  “You suck, Mandy!”

  “No, you do! What kind of brother would assume that?”

  They glared at each other, and Mandy heard her grandmother rustling in the living room. “Mandy? Is everything okay?” Her voice sounded sleepy and disoriented.

  She poked Reg on the chest. “Now see what you did? Just get out of here, Reg.”

  He grabbed a paper towel and wiped his face, then stormed out of the kitchen, pausing only to flip her off.

  Anger roiled through her like a stormy surf, but sadness was there, too, riding the same waves, drenching her with regret and guilt. She hated how things were between her and Reg now, and wondered if they would ever get along again.

  Everyone’s on their own path. He’ll change when he’s ready. She didn’t know if she believed that, but she wanted to. Needed to.

  Mandy cleaned up the yogurt that hadn’t landed on Reg, then headed into the living room, grateful to see her gran sleeping in her chair. She sank onto the faded blue couch and shoved in her earbuds.

  She opened her essay on her old laptop, muttering under her breath. She had to get a decent grade from Spriggs to avoid dance squad probation. She needed maximum e
xtracurricular activities to make up for her borderline grades to have a shot at even a partial scholarship. It wasn’t like she had Caleb’s big brain or her brother’s freakish math gift. All she had was…squirrel brain—spazzy enthusiasm combined with a total lack of focus. Nobody gave away college money for that.

  The stress made her mood ring practically melt as its colors swirled from black to green to red, finally resettling on black. A heavy sigh escaped her, and she tugged at her zodiac necklace. It wasn’t even her sign; it was her mom’s. A crab, for Cancer. Irony in the extreme since cancer had killed her mom three years ago. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to focus on the essay topic.

  Holden Caulfield. What a spoiled brat. Mandy did not see what the big deal was about this book. He was a rich kid who had everything but whined constantly about how awful his life was. Not that she could put any of that in her essay. Mr. Spriggs thought The Catcher in the Rye was the greatest book of all time. She’d cornered him after school one day to ask if she could write about an awesome steampunk mystery instead, but he’d just given her one of those looks that made her feel like garbage on the bottom of his shoe.

  She flipped through her faded and torn copy of the book, which had been highlighted and underlined by many students prior to her. The notes and yellow passages blurred as she skimmed the pages. She snorted as she read some of the highlighted dialog. Holden called everyone phonies. He should visit the twenty-first century; his head would explode if he spent even a week in her high school.

  Her phone pinged with a text from Cammie.

  Sorry I missed the mtg. I heard about the bake sale! R U ready for it?

  Sure, Mandy replied, even though she worried Caleb might ruin the whole day.

  Cammie sent back a row of shocked faces, then an eye roll.

  Mandy shoved her phone aside, determined not to let Caleb get under skin. She was going to run the baking session like the committee leader she was. She’d make sure her fake boyfriend helped out, and if he didn’t, she’d have to take action. She wasn’t sure exactly what action, but something.

  Then again…maybe Caleb needed someone to be kind to him. Maybe the reason he sulked around like he lived under a thundercloud really was because his mom had left him. That had to hurt, a lot. Her mom had died, which had been awful, but to have a mom walk out on you…she couldn’t imagine that. Maybe she and her friends should be extra nice to him during his fake boyfriend tenure and see if he responded.

  Kind of like a wild dog who needed to be tamed.

  She giggled at that image, then squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t think about Caleb right now; she needed to focus on her essay. For what felt like the hundredth time, she struggled to write a topic sentence. What she wanted to write, Holden Caulfield is a spoiled brat who needs to do time flipping burgers, was different from what she finally wrote: Holden’s experience captures the timeless angst of teenagers everywhere.

  What a line of crap.

  Chapter Six

  Hot Stuff

  Wednesday, September 21

  Mandy sat across from Ms. Chen, her special ed counselor. She played with the fringe on her purse as Ms. Chen scanned her revised essay. Ms. Chen frowned and cocked her head, her gestures increasing Mandy’s anxiety. After struggling over her topic sentence and first page last night, she’d decided to write what she wanted to, not what Mr. Spriggs expected. It was supposed to be a response to the book, so how could he penalize her for not having the same response as him. Right?

  She wished she could sneak in her earbuds and listen to “Blinded by the Light,” this seventies song that was about ten minutes long, full of synthesizers and nonsense lyrics that always cheered her up. Unfortunately Ms. Chen had a strict no-cell rule while in her office. She sighed, resigned to sitting still. She was not a kindergartner on crack, no matter what Caleb said.

  Ms. Chen cleared her throat and looked up from the paper. “Well, Mandy, this is certainly an unusual take on The Catcher in the Rye. I don’t think I’ve ever read anything quite like it.”

  “Is that good or bad?” Mandy asked, anxiety streaking through her.

  Ms. Chen frowned. “I’m not sure. I suspect it’s not what Mr. Spriggs is looking for.”

  Mandy chewed her lip. “But it’s my honest response to the book.”

  Ms. Chen sighed and leaned back in her chair. “This grade is important for you, Mandy. You need at least a C to maintain eligibility for the dance squad.”

  Mandy nodded. “Yeah. But it doesn’t seem right for me to have to lie on a paper just to please a teacher.”

  “It’s not lying, Mandy. It’s…meeting expectations to achieve your goals.”

  I call BS, Mandy thought, but she kept her mouth shut. She squeezed her eyes shut and grasped for a mantra, but she couldn’t come up with anything that fit this situation. Lies are okay if you get what you need? No way. The universe would definitely not approve of that.

  She squirmed uncomfortably as she thought of the big lie she and Caleb were attempting to pull off. Maybe the universe would give her a karmic pass on that, just this once?

  “What about the, uh, mechanics? Grammar and stuff?” Mandy asked, pushing away worries about her karma. Writing papers was her biggest struggle in school. Usually J.T. helped her, but she hadn’t asked him for help on this since she knew he was busy with his own AP workload.

  He and Caleb were in a lot of the same classes; J.T. always complained about how Caleb sat in the back and never participated, then aced everything. Mr. Spriggs taught AP English, too, and thought Caleb was a genius. At least that’s what J.T. said, usually sounding resentful. J.T. was a great writer, but according to him Spriggs only had eyes for the demon.

  “You definitely need to clean up the mechanics,” Ms. Chen said. “Do you have a tutor?”

  No way was she going to get assigned some random person. She’d beg J.T. for help again, bribe him somehow. Not like he ever expected payment. He was awesome sauce like that.

  “Yeah,” Mandy said. “I do.”

  “Well, I recommend working with your tutor to rework the essay so it’s more aligned with Mr. Spriggs’s expectations. Focus on the structure and mechanics. You have interesting ideas, Mandy, but they’re scattered all over the place. Try rewriting the paper so it’s more…favorable toward Holden Caulfield.”

  Mandy sighed heavily. Holden Caulfield was a jackass. Kind of like Caleb. She sat up straight like a marionette yanked by a puppeteer. They were similar, now that she thought about it. Both rich, both moping around like they had terrible lives.

  “What do you think, Mandy? Do you have time to rewrite this with all of the Spirit Week work you’re doing?”

  Not to mention my job at Build-a-Buddy, Mandy thought, and taking care of Gran while Dad’s on the road. The universe never gives us more than we can handle. She forced a smile. She truly did believe that because she’d lived it, even when she’d thought she couldn’t make it one more day.

  “Sure,” she said. “No problem.”

  She’d figure out a way; she always did.

  …

  Caleb sat at his usual lunch table, glancing up in surprise as Mandy slid onto the bench across from him, her perfume filling his nose.

  “Uh, hi?” he said, making it sound like a question.

  “Hi, fake boyfriend. How’s your day going so far?” She flipped open her salad container and poured dressing on the wilted leaves.

  “Okay,” he said, watching as she stabbed her salad like she wanted to kill it. “Better than yours, I’m guessing.” He tensed, telling himself he didn’t really care about whatever drama she was about to unload.

  She glanced up at him, her eyes flashing. “Good guess, demon,” she chattered. “I met with Ms. Chen this morning and she says I have to completely rewrite my stupid Catcher in the Rye essay for Spriggs.” She shoved a bite of salad in her mouth, then spoke around it. “I hate that stupid book.”

  Caleb forgot his vow to ignore her drama. “You hat
e Salinger?”

  She nodded.

  “We’re about to end the shortest fake relationship at Sky Ridge High.”

  She stared at him, eyes widening in shock. “What? Why?”

  “I can’t fake-date someone who doesn’t appreciate Salinger. Total deal breaker.”

  She set her fork down. “Of course you think he’s a genius.”

  “Anyone who appreciates literature thinks he’s a genius.”

  “You’d really fake break up with me over that?” She looked worried, her crazy spider eyelashes fluttering.

  “Maybe.” He took a drink of his soda, studying her. He wouldn’t, but Mandy didn’t need to know that yet. He liked messing with her.

  She leaned forward and closed her hand over his, sending an expected jolt of heat through him. “Stalker sighting,” she whispered, glancing over his shoulder. “Don’t look. Just pretend you’re telling me how awesome my outfit is.”

  He glanced down at their hands, noticing her nail polish for the first time. Every nail was a different color. He tried not to laugh. “Your manicure is…interesting,” he said, looking into her eyes like he was telling her he loved her, just in case Elle was getting closer. “Do you have different-colored underwear for every day of the week, too?”

  Heat flooded her cheeks, and she started to pull her hand away, but he trapped her hand with his. “Is she still watching?”

  Mandy swallowed and glanced over his shoulder again. “Y-yes.”

  “Good. Keep your eyes on mine.” She refocused on him, and he gave her his sexiest grin. “Tell me about your undies. What color are they today? And when do I get to see them?”

  “Caleb!” She gasped and turned an even deeper shade of pink, but he didn’t let go of her hand.

  This was perfect. If Elle was watching, all she’d see was him obviously saying something suggestive based on Mandy’s reaction. Now he just had to reel her in so she didn’t smack him and ruin the effect. He leaned across the table.

  “Work with me, Disco. Now you tell me how hot I look today.” He winked, hoping Elle was freaking out.

  Mandy’s mouth opened like a fish, then she seemed to realize she needed to perform. She leaned forward, her curls falling over her shoulders.