“Back to the blanks,” I say. My perfect plan has got to work. “Two weeks?”
“What?” Jason looks lost.
“Do you think two weeks is long enough to fake date? That’ll give us like, two Fridays.”
“Oh. I don’t know. I’ve never fake dated anyone before.”
“Well, you’re a guy. If there was a girl out there you liked and she was dating this other guy, how long would be long enough for them to date?”
His eyes travel around my face and hair before he answers. “Never.”
“What?”
“If I liked a girl, I’d never want her dating another guy.”
“Yes, but she doesn’t know you like her,” I explain. Jason can be so dense. “So if she dated another guy, say two weeks and he dumped her, would that effect your liking her?”
“I’m getting confused. This is a girl I like?”
“Yes.”
“And she likes me?”
“Yes.”
“Then why is she dating another guy?”
“Because some idiot walked up and asked her out before you had a chance to do it.”
“So why didn’t she tell the idiot no?” he whispers, and something in his tone seems to suggest he thinks I’m the idiot.
“Because he wouldn’t shut up about saving her life and saying she belonged to him. He scared you off.”
“That wouldn’t scare me off.”
Something about the way he says it causes a weird flutter in my stomach, which I choose to interpret it as maximum irritation. Or starvation.
“Would you stop?” I say too loud. I stuff a large bite of lettuce in my mouth and smile at our fellow classmates, who are now staring in our direction. I take a few more bites and wait for them to resume their conversations.
“So two weeks?” I whisper again after I’ve finished chewing.
“Sure,” he says, still watching me with that look like he has his own plan.
“I don’t think you’re really thinking about it.”
“Sorry,” he breathes. “You’re right. Two weeks is probably long enough.”
“Right. Because less time might mean something’s wrong with me, but longer might make him think I need a recovery period. And that could go on forever.”
“I think you need a recovery period right now.”
“And you should probably start driving me to school,” I continue, ignoring his remark. “I mean, if we’re dating and all. I’ll tell Shelly.”
“We’re starting today?”
“Well, yeah! You asked me to the luau in front of everyone. We’re clearly dating now.”
“Sorry. It’s only my first day.”
“After a busy weekend. Jeez, you met everybody!”
“I was just cruising around. I’m a friendly guy.”
“And a terrible driver. We’ll just keep the driving me to school thing between us. My parents might not like it.”
The bell rings, and we stand, collecting our things.
“Should I carry your books too?” he asks.
“Why would you do that? I’m not injured.”
“I’m just saying, since you don’t ask guys out and all.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll meet you this afternoon.”
He smiles. “Later, H.D.”
When I finally get to biology lab, Shelly is beside herself. She’s going on and on about Trent popping the question, and my teeth clench as I make my way over to tell her about my alternate ride home.
“I never even saw it coming!” she gushes at Trish.
I smile less enthusiastic. Clearly my boy-crazy best friend had forgotten about her plan to help me get a date with Trent.
“I was just sitting there at lunch talking to Reagan,” she continues. “And then there he was asking me to the luau!”
“That’s really cool,” I interrupt.
“And here I was trying to get him to ask you!” she shrieks, giving me a big hug like she’s just won a trip to Paris. Then she sees my face. “Don’t be mad. This is all part of the plan.”
“Really? Which part?”
“It’s the mentoring part. Where I model the behavior you’re supposed to emulate.”
“Oh, so I’m supposed to start dating the guys you like now? I’m not sure I can keep up.”
“You don’t understand at all. The deal is, if a hot guy asks you out, you say yes. You know, to Break the Cycle!”
“So that includes the ones your best friend’s trying to date?”
Mr. Platt comes back in the room, and I know I have to get to my seat.
But Shelly catches my arm before I leave. “It’s just the luau. And we’ll probably only go out once. Or possibly twice. At the most.”
I resist the urge to jerk her red ponytail. “That doesn’t make it okay,” I whisper, turning to my seat, but she catches me again.
“Think about it, if I go out with him, I can find out what he likes and stuff,” she hesitates, then brightens. “And you don’t have to worry about him getting all serious with somebody else because I’m doing this for you!”
I just stare at her.
“Harley,” she whispers. “Are you really mad?” Her expression is identical to the one she had the night her parents split, and I decide this must be one of those tests of patience Dad’s always talking about in church.
“I’ll get over it,” I lie. She squeezes my arm, excited again.
“We can talk about it on the way home.”
Then I remembered why I walked over. “Oh! I’ve got a ride home.”
“What?”
“This guy… this new guy Jason? He offered me a ride.”
“Jason? Who’s he?”
“Well, he’s uh…” His words after the crash fill my head. “He’s Jason James. Just moved here from New Mexico.”
“But what about Trent?” I struggle not to get mad at her all over again. Shelly can be completely clueless, but we’ve been friends since kindergarten. And after her parents’ divorce last summer, I held her hand as she cried—it made us like sisters.
“I don’t know. Jason asked me to the luau, and well…” I realize I don’t have a believable reason for dating him yet. “He seems nice.”
“Is he cute?”
“You haven’t seen him?” She always has the latest on every noteworthy boy-event at school.
“No. I’ve been so knocked out by Trent asking me that I hadn’t really noticed.”
I can’t hear her say those words again. “Well, you’ll meet him after school.”
Mr. Platt is walking down the aisle, and I have to get to my table before he starts deducting points. I also have to give this fake dating scheme further thought if it’s going to work. People will get suspicious if I don’t have a good reason for suddenly losing interest in Trent. I do not have my best friend’s reputation for guy-hopping.
That afternoon in the parking lot Shelly’s stuck to me like glue.
“I can’t wait to meet this Jason guy. Anyone who could get your mind off Trent.”
“Hey, over here,” I hear him. “H.D.!”
I wish he’d quit calling me that. “There he is,” I mumble.
“Oh my effing… how’d I miss that?” she giggles. “You know, I was feeling a little bad about the whole Trent thing, but not anymore. He’s smokin’ hot!”
I catch myself before I compare him to Trent. “Yeah. He is, right?”
I’d conceded earlier Jason was cute, but as we walk toward him, I notice the bizarre, triangle-shaped vehicle he’s standing next to. It has to be 100 years old, and it’s filthy. All his cute points are immediately cancelled out.
“What’s that?” I say.
“That, my dear, is a Gremlin,” he answers proudly.
“A what?” I can’t believe it. He actually drives a car named after an old movie. What am I thinking? Of course he does.
“A Gremlin,” he repeats. “Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of a Gremlin.”
“Tha
t must be why you never wash it,” Shelly laughs.
“Huh?” Jason frowns, then his eyes light up. “Oh, right! Cause the water thing makes ‘em mean! Good one, Red.”
“I’m Shelly.” She smiles and steps closer, and I decide it’s a good thing Jason and I are only fake dating. Shelly is seriously abusing this new assertiveness-modeling thing.
“Yeah,” I interrupt. “Shelly usually gives me a ride to school. She wanted to meet you.”
“Making sure she gets home safe?” Jason smiles. “You’re a good friend.”
“I’m more than that.” She blinks up at him.
“Okay!” I say, taking my friend’s arm and pulling her back. “So this is Jason, and you’re so excited because Trent asked you to the luau, remember?”
“Right,” Shelly says still eyeing Jason as I steer her toward her car.
“He’s going to pick me up in the morning, so I guess I’ll let you know if I need a ride again, okay?”
“Damn, Harley!” She peeks back over our shoulders. “I guess I see why you weren’t more upset about Trent.”
For a moment, I’m confused, but I recover fast. “Oh, because Jason’s hot. Right. Well, at least one of us got Trent.”
It’s a big fat lie. The last thing I want is Shelly dating Trent, even if it’s only once. Or possibly twice. I completely agree with Jason on that point. When you like somebody, you never want them to be with anybody else. Not for any amount of time.
“I’d better go,” I hear Jason start his freak-car’s engine and walk over to get in the passenger’s side. The door creaks when I open it and makes a popping noise when I pull it closed.
“Easy on the car,” he says. “I just got her today.”
“Where did you get this heap?” I ask, wrinkling my nose. “It smells like a wet cigarette.”
“Carl.” He leans over the seat to lower the back windows.
“The maintenance guy?” I can’t believe it. Jason befriends everybody! “You bought this from the maintenance guy at school?”
“Sure! It’s a classic.” He drops back in his seat and cranks his window down. “You won’t believe how great she’ll look with a new coat of paint and some minor adjustments.”
“It’ll take more than that.” I lean forward and grab the handle on my own window. “Are you sure we’ll even make it to my house?”
“Have a little faith,” he grins at me. “There’s a six-cylinder engine under that hood.”
“You lost me.”
“Back in the 70s, when it came out, the big selling point was the Gremlin’s got a six-cylinder engine. The Pinto’s only got four.” I watch as he turns the key and then leans forward, listening.
“Are you going to pick me up in a Pinto next?”
“No way.” He taps the dash. “You’re not listening. This has six cylinders compared to the Pinto’s four!”
“Jason, I hate to tell you. Nobody cares.” I lean forward trying to find a place for my bag. This car is ridiculous.
“I care. It’s got more power, it’s faster, heavier-”
“You’re planning to ram somebody new?”
“That was purely accidental. Totaled my old Charger, though. I hated letting that one go. But it was time, I guess.”
I look out the window and wonder who all’s going to see me in this hooptie. Then I remember what I’ve been waiting to ask him all day.
“So how is it you twisted hitting me with your car into saving my life?”
“Huh?” he looks confused.
“All day long you’ve been going on about saving my life.” I’m holding my hair back against the wind. “How’d you manage that rewrite of history?”
“Oh, well, I really did save it.”
“Uh huh. Explain.”
“I was probably going like 45 miles per hour when I looked up and realized you weren’t moving. If I hadn’t hit the brakes as hard as I could, I’dve probably knocked you into oncoming traffic.”
“That’s comforting.” Now I wish my seatbelt had a shoulder strap.
“Yeah, it could’ve been bad.”
I can tell he’s embarrassed, and I look out the open window trying to think of a way to ease the sudden awkwardness in the car.
“It would’ve been Bender in the traffic, not me.”
“Yeah, who is that guy? Ex-Marine?”
“How’d you guess?”
“I could tell by the hair and the super-starched clothes,” he says. “We have a lot of those where I’m from.”
We’re almost at my house when I realize Mom might see me getting out of this strange car and with some strange guy.
“Maybe we should stop here,” I say, reaching for my bag.
“Why?”
“Well, talking to Shelly today, I realized I hadn’t thought through why we were dating all of a sudden.”
“After all your efforts with Trent?” He grins at me, and I glance up at his smile, the wind pushing his golden brown hair in his face. Maybe I should go with Shelly’s assumption and let everyone think I decided Jason was cuter. Everyone who doesn’t know me, that is. No, my mind never changes that fast.
“And my parents don’t know you, so I’m sure they’ll ask a bunch of questions.” I pull my bag onto my lap. “I don’t like lying to them.”
“What about Friday?”
“Friday?”
“The luau? I’m your date.”
“Oh, right. I guess you’re right. Nevermind, then.”
He keeps driving and stops in front of my house.
“Thanks for the ride,” I say, hesitating before I climb out. “Hey, I was just wondering. Why did you move here anyway?”
He pauses for a moment. “Well, Dad’s from Glennville…” Then he glances down and his voice grows quieter. “After Mom died, he wanted to get closer to home.”
For a moment I don’t know what to say. That is not that answer I expected. “I’m… sorry.”
He smiles back at me, but this time there’s less sunshine. “S’okay,” he shrugs. “She had cancer, so we had a lot of time to prepare for it. Say our good-byes and all.”
“Still… I guess…” As I struggle for the right words, I imagine losing Pocahontas and my chest gets tight. “That must’ve been hard.”
“Yeah. It’s been fifteen months, but Dad and I are bouncing back.” Jason tries another smile, but I’m still not convinced.
I pull the handle to get out. The door creaks and makes that popping sound again. There’s no way I’m hiding this one.
“Tomorrow morning, then?” he asks.
“Sure.” I smile back, feeling a little softer toward him. He really is easy to talk to.
“Bye, Jas.”
“Bye, H.D.”
I’m still thinking about what Jason told me when I open the front door and step inside. But when I look up, a scream flies out of my mouth. Mr. Men’s Health is standing in the middle of our kitchen wearing nothing but a towel!
“Umm…” Ricky kind of laughs, then he says loudly, “Hey, Harley!”
Mom comes breezing into the room reading the label on a small pot of cream. “Here, see if this’ll…” She freezes when she sees me. I haven’t moved from my spot inside the door. My eyes are huge and my mouth is still open.
“You’re home,” she’s smiling, but her voice is too high. “How was school?”
Then she glances at half-naked Ricky and does a little laugh.
“Why is he naked?” I whisper-shriek.
“No, honey, see,” Mom’s hand goes to her forehead and she rubs. I watch her long dark ponytail swing behind her. “Ricky had this mole on his glute he needed me to look at it, and it did look suspicious. So I offered to check the rest of his back. Just a quick visual screening—”
“You’re not a dermatologist!” My voice is a high-pitched squeal, and my horrified eyes go back to Ricky on full display except for that little white towel. The light from our kitchen window highlights every line on his sculpted body.
“We
ll, no, but I know a suspicious mole when I see one,” Mom says. “Skin cancer is very serious, Harley, and those tanning beds accelerate the growth—”
Ricky interrupts in an amused tone. “I’m not naked.”
I see his hand loosen on the towel, and I shriek again. “I don’t want to see!”
Just then the door behind me opens. “Knock, knock!” a female voice sings out.
All three of us jump around to see a middle-aged woman in tight black pants and a low-cut top walking in carrying a slim plastic bottle. It’s Trent’s mom. I recognize her at once, even though I’ve only seen her at church.
“I got your message, and I figured I’d just come on by and… Oh, my!” Ms. Jackson looks up and stops. Her mouth drops open at the sight of Ricky in the kitchen. I literally cannot breathe. Mom steps forward and takes her arm.
“Sandra! I’m so glad you came by,” Mom says, trying to pull her into the living room. Ms. Jackson doesn’t budge.
“You are?” she sounds surprised. Her eyes are glued to Ricky’s bod.
“Ricky was just changing,” Mom continues as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to be standing around our house half naked. Like we live in the Playgirl mansion or something. “He’ll be taking over your appointments for me… for now.”
“He will?” Ms. Jackson looks like she might faint, and then a gleam enters her eyes. I grab my backpack and head to my room as Ricky slips into Mom’s office and closes the door.
I don’t even want to know what Trent’s mom is thinking right now. Or who she’s planning to tell the second she gets home.
After about an hour, when it’s finally quiet again out front, I slip into the kitchen. I’m starving, and I’m hoping they’re all gone. Mom’s nowhere to be seen, but as usual, there’s Ricky. At least now he’s fully clothed and packing his gym bag to leave. I have no desire to speak to him. I can’t believe Mom fell for such a lame stunt. Skin cancer on his glute. How obvious.
He looks up when I walk in the room. “I saw when you got home from school,” he says with a smile. “Who was that in the monster mobile?”
I bite my lip, determined to ignore him, but he just keeps on talking.
“He drives a Gremlin?” Ricky shakes his head. “Throw that one back.”
“He’s not so bad.”
The Truth About Faking Page 4
