My Fake Valentine

by Kellie McAllen

  “Guess who’s turning sweet 16 and having a sweet party this weekend?” He bellows out, holding his arm above my head and pointing down at me as soon as we get to the table where all his friends are at.

  “Party at your house, Mia? That’s awesome!” Dylan pumps his hand in the air and starts whooping, and all the rest of them act just as excited.

  Chloe is whispering to her friends and glancing my way with a malicious look in her eyes. I lean over and whisper to Austin, “Chloe won’t come to my party, will she? She hates me.”

  He grins and whispers back to me, “Oh yeah, she’ll definitely be there. No one wants to miss the chance to hang out at your place, not even Chloe. But don’t worry, she’s too cool to act like you get to her. A true bitch is the one who can hate you and still smile in your face and pretend you’re best friends while she’s plotting her revenge.”

  I grab his arm and dig my nails in. “Plotting her revenge! What? I don’t want her at my party, Austin!”

  Austin pries my fingers from his arm and holds my hand. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure she behaves. Besides, she’s much more interested in getting back at me. She’ll probably even bring you a nice present. I wouldn’t take her up on any offers of friendship, though.”

  Great, another thing to worry about.

  Austin comes over again after school. I want to suggest we go to his house, instead, but he doesn’t offer that. He just hops in the Jeep and starts driving. I’m sure he’s hoping for another chance to see Bianca and Evan, or even my father.

  I turn the stereo on, and he has a Twenty One Pilots CD playing. I grin at him and we both sing along at the top of our lungs when our favorite song comes on. At least we have that in common.

  “So are you excited about the party?” he asks as we’re walking inside.

  I wince. “I guess so. I’m kind of nervous, though. What if they don’t have a good time? My parents throw a lot of parties here, and they’re always really lame and boring.”

  “Let me guess, they’re the kind of parties where they play classical music, everyone dresses up, and they sip champagne and eat tiny appetizers while they talk about politics.” He sticks out his pinky and pretends to drink from a champagne flute as he rolls his eyes.

  I snort out a laugh and slap a hand over my mouth to prevent another one. “Yeah, basically.”

  “Trust me, this party won’t be anything like that. It’s going to be epic. In fact, you might want to keep your parents away, if possible.”

  Austin is way more excited about this than I am, and it’s my birthday, but he already invited everybody, so it’s too late to back out now.

  “Hey, why don’t you give me a tour of the house so I can see what we’re working with? If there are any off-limits rooms, you can show me those, too.”

  I shrug and lead him into the living room — a giant space divided into several smaller sitting areas furnished with ivory sofas, high back chairs, and mahogany tables. A shiny, black grand piano sits in one corner, and there’s a dance floor in the middle of the room.

  “This is where we usually have parties.”

  He raises an eyebrow at me. “Oo-kaay. Now show me where we can hang out, cuz this place looks like a museum.”

  I chuckle and point down the hall. “There’s some other rooms down here.”

  I take him into the game room where my dad’s collection of arcade games and Evan’s video games live along with a small bar, a pool table, and a foosball table.

  “Pac Man? Mortal Kombat? Now this is what I’m talking about!” Austin looks around with a big smile and points to the bar. “Punch bowl goes right here.”

  He wiggles his eyebrows, and I laugh.

  “It’s big, but not big enough for everybody, though. Any place else we can go?”

  “Well, there’s the screening room.”

  Austin cocks his head and follows me down the hall to the theater. “Holy crap, Mia, this is sweet!”

  He gazes around at the descending rows of leather recliners set up in front of a movie screen and runs a hand down the velvet wall coverings. “How big is that screen?”

  “260 inches, I think.”

  Austin’s mouth falls open and he flops into one of the chairs. “If you tell me you have access to some super cool movie that hasn’t come out yet I’m gonna faint, because that’s the only thing that could make this any more awesome.”

  I giggle. “That can probably be arranged.”

  He moans like he’s having an orgasm or something.

  I show him a couple other rooms that would be okay for people to hang out in, and he’s satisfied that we have a good set up, so I head for my room, but he stops in his tracks when he sees Bianca going through a set of doors at the end of a short hall.

  “What’s down there?”

  “That’s just the natatorium.” I keep walking, hoping he’ll follow. He doesn’t need to see Bianca in a swimsuit. But he doesn’t budge.

  “The nata-what?”

  I sigh and head back towards him. “Natatorium. It’s a room with an indoor pool.”

  He whips his head around and gapes at me. “You have an indoor pool?”

  I roll my eyes and nod.

  “Let me see it!” He takes off down the hall, and I hustle after him.

  Bianca is diving into the deep end when we push through the heavy doors that keep the humidity and the scent of chlorine from seeping into the rest of the house. She cuts through the water without splashing like she’s coated in butter or something and swims to the end of the pool before coming up for air. Austin is gawking at her, and I want to stab him with my elbow.

  “Hey Bianca.” He gives her a little wave, and she waves back before swimming back to the other end, her tiny, little butt wiggling back and forth as she kicks her long legs.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you had an indoor pool? We are definitely having a pool party.” He scans the glass-walled room that looks out on the back lawn.

  I cringe. I want to argue that it’s not a good idea, but I’m too embarrassed to tell him why. I just won’t get in — no big deal, right?

  We finally make it to my room, and I plop down on the bed wondering if this party is a great idea or a terrible one, but I guess it’s too late to second-guess myself now. Like it or not, Saturday evening this place will be crawling with teenagers who never gave me a second look before.

  “So, did you figure out what you’re going to wear?” Austin looks me up and down and I wonder what he’s thinking. I’m pretty sure it’s not good.

  I’ve been trying to dress a little better since we started “going out,” but fashion isn’t really something I’m good at. “Uh, maybe?”

  “Let me see.”

  I open the door to my closet, and Austin gasps behind me. “Holy cow, Mia! Your closet’s as big as my whole bedroom. How’s come all you ever wear is jeans?”

  “They’re… easy.” I shrug. What I mean is, they go with everything so I don’t have to figure out if my outfit matches, and I can wear loose tee shirts with them that hide my not-exactly-model-like figure. And sneakers. My toes curl at the memory of those high-heeled boots I wore the other day.

  Austin follows me into the closet, fingering the clothes hanging on the racks between the built-in cabinetry. One side is all the stuff my mother buys for me, most of which I wouldn’t be caught dead in, and the other side is all jeans and tees, a few hoodies. There are a few pairs of tall boots standing up in one open cabinet, and the rest of my shoes, mostly tennies and a few heels (guess which ones my mother bought) are lined up on the lighted shoe shelves. I grab my tightest jeans and a loose, silky blouse that will cover up everything getting squeezed by the skinny jeans and hold them up to me.

  “I was thinking about this.”

  Austin looks at it like it’s a paper sack. “Mia, I said wear something sexy. Don’t you have anything better?”

  I wave my hand around the closet. “Take your pick.”

  Austin pulls out a few of the o
utfits my mom bought but frowns at them and puts them back. “None of this works. You need to go shopping, Mia. You need something skimpy and sexy.” Something like Chloe would wear, I finish the unspoken thought.

  “I’ll get right on that.” I roll my eyes, but Austin isn’t looking. He’s noticed my little display in the corner. Since I’m not allowed to decorate my room the way I want, I’ve turned one section of my closet into a shrine to my true personality.

  There are spelling bee trophies and framed, academic award certificates on the shelves, and a bulletin board on the wall where I’ve tacked mementos of all my nerdy obsessions — pictures of Wolverine and Black Widow, a couple Mutemath ticket stubs, some Disney stickers, a button that says, “When I want your opinion I’ll give it to you,” and a copy of the poem “If” by ee Cummings. On the shelves below there’s a Harry Potter bobblehead, a rainbow-striped stuffed llama, a Baby Groot figurine, and all my favorite books, like The Giver and Twilight, which I hope he doesn’t see.

  Austin picks up Baby Groot and says, “Groot?” in a silly voice, then flicks the bobblehead and leans in to read the poem, mouthing the words under his breath.

  * * *

  If freckles were lovely, and day was night,

  And measles were nice and a lie warn’t a lie,

  Life would be delight,—

  But things couldn’t go right

  For in such a sad plight

  I wouldn’t be I.

  * * *

  If earth was heaven and now was hence,

  And past was present, and false was true,

  There might be some sense

  But I’d be in suspense

  For on such a pretense

  You wouldn’t be you.

  * * *

  If fear was plucky, and globes were square,

  And dirt was cleanly and tears were glee

  Things would seem fair,—

  Yet they’d all despair,

  For if here was there

  We wouldn’t be we.

  * * *

  He turns to me and smiles as he says the last line. “Finally, I meet the real Mia. Why is she hiding in the closet?”

  Because she’s not who people want her to be, is the answer I can’t say out loud because I’m afraid of his response.

  I imagine him saying, “She’s exactly who I want her to be,” and taking me in his arms and kissing me like he does in the hallway at school, but this time not for an audience. But it’s much more likely he’ll blow it off with some silly response, instead, and even the imaginary rejection stings, so I just mutter, “My mom doesn’t like all this stuff sitting out,” which is both the truth and a lame excuse, and I wonder if he can see through it, because he stares at me like he’s trying to figure me out. It’s exhilarating and terrifying, and I tear my eyes away long before I want to.

  “I like the poem,” he says, and I think maybe he’s trying to say a whole lot more, but I stiffen up, afraid to let him in any closer.

  “We should work on your homework.” I push past him and he follows a beat later, like maybe he took one last look, trying to understand me, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

  I help him with some algebra, and there’s an awkwardness between us that wasn’t there before, or maybe it’s just me being weird about everything.

  “Anything else you need help with?” I ask when we’re finished because it’s still early.

  He stares at me for a minute then says, “What if we just watch a movie, instead? You’ve probably got an amazing collection somewhere, right?”

  “Uh, yeah, I guess. They’re in the screening room.” We head back down there, and Austin flips out when he sees the rows and rows of movies we have.

  “Ooo, I only saw this once, in the theater.” He pulls out the latest X-Men movie. “Wanna watch this?”

  I chuckle at his enthusiasm. Boys and their superheroes. “Sure. You want some popcorn? I can fire up the popper in the game room.”

  “Uh, Yeah.” He says, like I shouldn’t have to ask.

  I pop in the DVD and get it going so he can watch the previews while I get our snack. I head to the game room and turn on the popcorn machine, getting some drinks from the fridge while I wait for the machine to heat up. Once it’s ready, I pour in the oil and kernels and let it do its magic, sizzling and popping and spewing forth that delicious, salty, buttery aroma that says movie time.

  I start to get excited as I load up my arms with the popcorn and soda. This will be fun. I’ve never gone to the movies with a boy before, and although I know it’s not a date, being alone in the theatre with him sure makes it seem like one.

  My excitement immediately plummets off a ten-story building and dies a painful death when I walk back into the hall and see Bianca standing at the door to the screening room, whispering with Austin. She’s still in her bathing suit, if you can even call it that — three tiny triangles of hot pink fabric attached to her body with little strings tied into bows like she’s a freakin’ birthday present. She has a terrycloth robe on over her suit, but it’s hanging wide open, and water is dripping a trail from her long, blonde hair, over her breasts, and down her long, tan legs. Austin’s face is lit up as he talks to her, and she’s smiling and talking like they’re best friends.

  I walk as loudly as I can towards them. When Bianca sees me, her smile falters, and she touches Austin on the shoulder, whispers something, then gives him one last grin before turning and walking away.

  Austin turns toward me, and his happy face immediately sobers when he sees the scowl on mine. “Oh, hey Mia. We were just talking about the party. Here, let me help you with that.”

  He takes the sodas from my hand. “Where do you like to sit?”

  “Wherever you want.” I wave my hand at the room full of empty seats.

  He picks the back row, setting our drinks down into the built-in cupholders. The seats are connected, with an armrest in the middle, but the one between the seats he chose is already raised so it’s more like a loveseat. Did he pick those seats on purpose? This is where I’d want to sit if this was a real date and a real movie theater, because in the back no one can see you if you decide to make out instead of paying attention to the screen. Whoa. I have no idea where that thought came from. Settle down, Mia. It’s not a date. It’s just two people, hanging out, watching a movie. He probably just doesn’t like to crane his neck.

  “This can go down, if you want.” I wiggle the armrest.

  “No, it’s good. Easier to share the popcorn.”

  I blush, realizing I brought just one big bucket, assuming we’d share like Kerri and I always do. It seems a little too date-like with a boy, though.

  “Sorry. I can get you your own bucket if you want.” I get up, and Austin grabs my sleeve.

  “It’s fine, Mia.” He’s smiling, and I wish I could peek inside his head for just one second to see what he’s thinking.

  Maybe this is normal to him. Maybe he goes to movies all the time with his friends and shares popcorn with whoever is nearby and sits next to random girls in love seats. But no, probably not, because he’s been dating Chloe forever, so maybe he’s so used to sitting next to her that he didn’t think twice about it. Or maybe he didn’t think about it at all because he’s a guy, and from what I’ve heard, guys don’t agonize over stuff like girls do. And I really wish I was a guy right now because my thoughts are driving me crazy.

  The movie starts, and I try to focus on the action and tune out all the nonsense bouncing around in my brain, and after a while I finally relax and do forget about it all, except for when Austin and I both reach into the popcorn tub at the same time, and our fingers touch. At first, I flinch and pull my hand away, but then we settle into a rhythm, taking turns grabbing a handful, and I kind of miss that tiny contact. The seats are wide enough that no other part of our bodies is touching, but as the movie goes on, we seem to inch closer together.

  We laugh and smile and look at each other during the funny parts, and I gaze at hi
m out of the corner of my eye when he’s facing forward, his strong features glowing in the light from the screen. Once or twice, I swear I see him sneak glances of me, as well, but it’s probably my imagination.

  The movie has a happy ending, but I’m sad when it’s over and the spell is broken.

  “My parents are out at an event tonight, so there’s no family dinner, but we can scrounge up something to eat if you’re hungry,” I say, taking the movie from the player and putting it back on the shelf.

  “Nah, I’m full on popcorn, anyway. I should probably go.” He doesn’t move, though, and neither do I.

  “I had a really good time tonight, Mia. Thanks for… everything. I have a game tomorrow night, so I can’t come over.”

  I nod and expect him to ask me if I’m going to come and watch him play. I’ve watched a lot of basketball games because of my brother and Kerri. I’m a pretty good cheerleader even though I refuse to wear a short skirt and shake my pompoms.

  “Maybe you can go shopping. Get something to wear to the party,” he says instead, and I’m not sure why I’m disappointed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Austin

  When I wake up Friday morning, my first thought is of Mia. My second thought is that I’m totally screwed. My research paper is due today, and turning it in was part of the deal. I knew I needed to do it, but I just kept pushing it to the back of my mind, like maybe it would go away if I didn’t think about it. Or maybe I never intended to do it, maybe that’s why I never mentioned it to Mia. Either way, it’s too late now, which means I have two choices: I can do nothing and get kicked off the team, or turn in Mia’s paper and pretend it’s my own.

  A week ago, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought. I’m not above cheating if that’s what it takes to protect my own interests. Heck, I stole that folder with every intention of using it. But that was before — before I knew Mia, before I cared about her, and before she helped me realize I’m capable of passing my classes on my own. I could do the research paper if I tried. I just don’t have any more time. And I didn’t come this far to get kicked off the team now.