The Truth About Faking

by Leigh Talbert Moore

  When I get home, Ricky’s packing up to leave, and I hear him talking to Mom as they plan out the rest of their appointments.

  “So the Denali’s back, but I kind of like our new arrangement,” Mom says. “Uses less gas, and I think some of the ladies prefer you anyway.”

  Ricky laughs. “So that means I’m keeping Ms. Jackson?”

  “If you don’t mind.” Mom sounds like she’s concerned he might mind.

  “I can handle it,” he says, with a groan.

  As I slip through the door, I wonder what that’s all about, but when I hear them moving my way, I continue scurrying quietly down the hall to my room. I don’t want to see Ricky with my mom today, and coming in like this would have them both asking a ton of questions I don’t feel like answering right now. Anyway, it’s none of Ricky’s business why I walked home instead of riding with Jason. He isn’t my dad.

  “And it’s easy to take her,” Ricky says. “Her house is on my way back to Glenville.”

  “Thanks.” I can hear the warmth in my mom’s voice. “All better today?”

  Peeking from my room, I see him nod and give her a meaningful look. What meaning it’s full of I can’t tell exactly. But it means something, I’m sure of it. He goes to the door and leaves, and I watch Mom go into the living room and curl into her chair, exhaling deeply. I stand at my door and wait a few more seconds. I want to get to the bottom of whatever’s going on with those two, but I don’t know how to get on the subject without provoking a lecture on the perils of eavesdropping. A sudden burst of music nearly makes me jump out of my skin, and I grab my phone.

  “Hello?” I whisper, ducking back into my room and closing my door quietly.

  “Harley?” It’s Jason.

  “Oh, uh… yeah?” Great.

  “You lied to me,” he says.

  I’m not sure how to respond. Is it possible he’s joking?

  “Um…” I force a little laugh. “What?”

  “You didn’t have cheerleading practice after school.” He sounds annoyed. “And Shelly was in the parking lot looking for you when I left.”

  I decide to try innocence. “She was? Hmm. I guess I got my days confused.”

  “So how’d you get home?”

  “Oh, I walked.” I act like it’s no big deal, but he isn’t backing down.

  “Why?”

  I bite my lip. The tone in his voice is killing me, but I have to do it now. And at least we’re on the phone, so I don’t have to see his face.

  “OK. Well, you see, Jason…” Why is this so hard? “I’m afraid things are changing between us. And that wasn’t part of the deal. Remember?”

  “So what do you want to do about it?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, rubbing my forehead.

  We’re quiet for several seconds.

  “Can I come over?” He finally asks, and I imagine his eyebrows coming together over his brown eyes. Yes…

  “No,” I say quickly. “I think maybe it’s time we did the whole fake breakup thing.”

  “Really?” He sounds frustrated, and the fact that it bothers me is proof I’m right. It’s time.

  “Really.”

  “Dammit, H.D. Why? We’re not even through the first week.”

  “I know, but I was talking to Trent this morning, and I think I overestimated the amount of time it would take.”

  “So that’s it?”

  “Well… yeah.” I try to make my voice light and friendly. Why does this fake breakup feel so real all of a sudden? “I mean, that was always the deal, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Okay, then. So no need to pick me up in the morning. I’ll call Shelly.”

  “Okay,” he says, and his tone makes me feel awful.

  I try again to lighten the mood. “She’ll be thrilled, I’m sure.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Things are not getting better, and after a few moments of silence, I decide I should let him go.

  “Well… ’bye, Jas,” I say quietly.

  “’bye.” He says.

  We hang up the phone, and I walk over and fall across my bed. My stomach hurts, so I grab my pillow and pull it to me as hard as I can. I have the most overwhelming urge to cry myself to sleep, but that’s silly. This was always the plan.

  After a few moments of lying still, listening to myself breathe, I straighten out and reach across the bed to the small drawer under my lamp. It’s the first time I’ve looked at the yellowed sheet of paper in ages, but I need to read it again, to refresh my memory. I carefully unfold the document, and there in my twelve-year-old textbook-cursive is the list.

  “My Ideal Husband (a.k.a. Mr. Right)”

  #1-A good kisser.

  #2-Attends church (without complaining).

  #3-Always dresses like a model.

  #4-Always polite. (A perfect gentleman.)

  #5-Blonde hair and blue eyes.

  I close my eyes, and I can still hear Shelly’s mom, my old Sunday school teacher, saying how important it is that we include things like “good communication skills” and “same goals for the future” on our lists. But twelve-year-old boys are not known for their good communication skills, and none of us had any definite goals for our futures at that point. She laughed at all our blank faces staring back at her and said it was okay to include physical traits as well. Then we all joined hands and prayed, and for the other girls, that was the end of it.

  I held onto my list, though, and last year when I saw Trent, everything else faded away. My Mr. Right was walking down the square, a slow-motion breeze pushing his blonde hair back and away from his blue eyes. It had all come true. And then when he rescued me that day at the gym, I knew we were destined to be together. Once these distractions got out of the way, like Stephanie. And now Jason.

  I open my eyes again, and even though I still feel conflicted, I demand my heart stop trying to sabotage me. Jason and I were only faking—we both agreed. And now it’s time to get back to reality. I get up and throw the pillow across the room. Then I punch up Shelly’s number.

  “Harley?” Shelly has to shout over her radio blasting. I hear the volume go lower.

  “Hey, Shel, got a minute?”

  She exhales loudly into the phone. “I can’t believe you still talk on the phone,” she says.

  I’m so not in the mood. “Will I ever be as cool as you?”

  “Probably not.”

  Ignoring that. “So you ready to start picking me up again?”

  “Sure,” she says. Then she gasps. “Wait. Does this mean?”

  “Jason and I are no longer fake—” I catch myself just in time. “I mean dating. We’re not dating.”

  “Jason’s available?” she cries into the phone. “Wait, who broke up with who?”

  “What?”

  “I’m just saying, if he broke up with you that’s one thing, but if you broke up with him—”

  “It was sort of mutual.”

  “Hang up,” she says.

  “Shelly.”

  “No, seriously. Someone that hot requires immediate action.”

  “Are you picking me up tomorrow?”

  “Of course! Now hang up!”

  I growl. “’bye, Shell.”

  Click.

  I refuse to be pissed at Shelly. That would also be ridiculous. I stick out my chin, swallow the knot in my throat, and reason away the pain in my stomach. I was never really dating Jason. It was all just a trick. To be mad would just make it more serious than it ever was. There’s absolutely no reason why I should have this sick feeling like I’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life.

  Eight

  The next morning I find Ricky whistling around the kitchen. He even pats my head when I sit at the table to wait for Shelly. I didn’t sleep well, but preparing to see Trent has taken my mind off last night’s confusing emotional mix-up.

  “Hello, pretty lady,” he smiles. “You look amazing as always.”

  “Thanks,” I say, ducking away
. It’s nice that he notices the extra time I spend getting ready, but he doesn’t have to mess up my hair.

  This morning I’d tried to recreate an instant-replay of last Monday, as far as my appearance goes. Only it’s Tuesday, and there’s no luau this weekend. Still, I have it all planned out. I’ll dash over to algebra and accidentally bump into Trent. Then if he doesn’t do it, well, I’m going to ask him out myself. I’m going to open my mouth and Break the Cycle. The thought makes me nauseous and panicky at the same time.

  “You’re mighty cheerful today,” I say.

  “It’s true,” Ricky smiles.

  I frown at him. On Saturday night he was over here pleading with my mother and possibly even crying, although I’m not sure about that part. But even yesterday afternoon he was still down.

  “So what happened?”

  “Huh?” He pauses to look at me.

  “The change. The out with the gray clouds, in with the super-Mr. Sunshine. Did you get into Mom’s St. John’s Wort?”

  “Listen to you. I guess you’re the up and coming little herbologist!”

  “I’ve just been hearing about it for a while.”

  “Well, for your information, I have not been taking anything. I’ve just got a little dose of what’s been brightening your eyes.”

  “What?” Compulsive scheming? Completely confused emotions?

  “Let’s just say, it’s inspiring to see the world through fresh eyes.”

  I make a face. “What?”

  “A change in scenery can be exhilarating!”

  “Have you lost it?” I look around. “Where’s Mom?”

  “Oh, we traded up on some clients. She’s off seeing Ms. Simmons, and I’m taking some of her afternoon appointments.”

  At this point, I’m so confused. He’s acting like a giddy teenager, and Mom isn’t even here. Has she managed to get him off her back? I replay yesterday afternoon in my head. Ricky went to cover Ms. Jackson’s appointment, and then he said he was going home. Had he somehow gotten mixed up with Ms. Jackson?

  “So you’re here this morning, and Mom’s out seeing clients?” I clarify.

  “Yep.”

  “And who are you seeing this afternoon?”

  I actually see his eyes sparkle. “Ms. Jackson.”

  “Ms. Jackson?”

  “I am for reeal,” he sings.

  I hear a horn outside and go to the door. It’s Shelly.

  “Well, okay.” I shrug. “Whatever. Bye, Ricky.”

  “’bye, biker chick.” Then he makes big eyes. “Oops!”

  I wrinkle my nose and go out to the car. Shelly’s inside bouncing in her seat.

  “Come on! Come on! Come on!” she’s saying with each bounce. “We’ve got to get to school so I can see Jason!”

  Everyone’s bursting to see someone today, and I feel like I’m on a completely different planet. Shelly’s gushing in particular makes me second-guess myself, so I tighten my smile and force my brain to think lavender thoughts. I remember Trent’s perfect teeth, his pretty eyes. I imagine pressing my lips to his, his warm breath soft on my cheek… Yep. That helps.

  Thankfully, we beat Jason to school, but when I look around, it appears we’ve beaten everyone else as well.

  “Looks like we’re the first ones here,” I mutter.

  “No worries!” Shelly sings. “They’ll be here soon enough. We can wait.”

  I sit back in the passenger’s seat as she blares her music. It’s some dance song and she’s wiggling around to it.

  “Did you call Jason?”

  “Yep!”

  “And?”

  “And he is soo hot.”

  “You’ve said that like a million times. Can you find a new word?”

  “Harley.” She stops bouncing and turns to me, concern on her face. “Will it bother you if I go out with Jason?”

  “No,” I say firmly. To both of us.

  “Good!” she squeals, dancing again.

  “Not that it would matter anyway.”

  “Oh, that’s not true!” She pretend-pouts. “I’d feel bad every time I saw you.”

  I narrow my eyes at her but decide not to comment.

  The song ends, and I choose to tell her my big news instead. “I’m thinking about asking Trent out today.”

  “No. Way.”

  “Yep. I’ll give him one last chance after second period, and if he doesn’t do it, I will.”

  “That’s it! Assertiveness, Break the Cycle!” She smiles. “You’re such a good little student.”

  “I was starting to think you’d forgotten about that.”

  She grabs my arm. “Here he is!”

  I look up just in time to see Jason arriving in a newish-looking Passat. I knew it! Shelly takes a quick glance at herself in the mirror as I watch Jason park and get out of his super-nice car. In no time, she’s at his side. I move a little slower and then hang back, feeling irritated with him. Yes, irritation! That’s what I feel for Jason, I decide.

  “Hey, Jason,” I hear Shelly purr.

  “Hey, Shell,” he says. He glances in my direction. “H.D.”

  “Hey, Jas.” That tightness in my stomach is me being angry with him. That’s all it is.

  “So where’s that cute little monster mobile? Did you wash it?” Shelly teases.

  “Nope. Got it in the shop,” he says. “It’s getting a new coat of paint and some… adjustments.”

  I haven’t moved from beside Shelly’s car, where I’m focusing on being irritated. But despite my best efforts, the sight of my best friend pressing her body against my ex-boyfriend makes my chest hurt.

  Fake! Fake ex-boyfriend. Fake ex-date. We only went out twice and it was all for show. Gah!

  “Hey, Harley,” I hear a softer voice to my right and look around. I start to breathe again.

  “Hey, Trent.” I say, smiling. He smiles back, and even though his sweet smile doesn’t completely get rid of the sting I feel seeing Jason with Shelly, I do feel a little surge of anticipation. Once I’m Trent’s girlfriend, all of this Jason-confusion will be a distant memory, and nothing, not even my mom and silly Ricky will get me down. Cue the happily ever after music.

  “So you and Jason?” he starts.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “Was it the thing from yesterday? Your argument?”

  I shrug. “I guess.”

  We start walking together toward the building again, and I notice he doesn’t seem as sad today. He actually seems a little happy. I was right! He wanted to ask me out, and the whole fake-dating thing worked! I’m a genius!

  We continue walking in silence, and I notice he’s humming a little tune. It sounds familiar, and I imagine us holding hands and smile. Soon I’ll be the one gazing up at him blissfully.

  “So I guess I’ll see you after algebra?” I hope knowing that we’ll see each other again so soon will give him plenty of time to start planning how he’ll ask me out.

  “Right!” he smiles. His lavender-blue eyes are so bright now. Hooray for love!

  “And I just… I don’t know what I’m doing this weekend.” Did I actually just say that?

  “This weekend.” Trent grins and looks away. “Well, I’d better get to class.”

  “OK. See you in a few hours!”

  “Yep.”

  Now I’m feeling a little bouncy, too. Everything is back on track. I’m finally going to go out with Trent! After all the planning and waiting and faking, it’s finally going to happen. I trot to class counting the minutes to third period.

  Trent’s leaving Ms. Gipson’s room when as usual I casually, oh so unexpectedly, happen to be walking up at the same time.

  “Hey!” I laugh as if it’s the most surprising thing.

  “Hey,” Trent smiles. He really does look happy. “So we meet again.”

  “Yep. Getting to be kinda regular,” I say.

  “Uh huh.”

  We stand there facing each other. Again. Me waiting, holding my books. Trent looking down, a
nd then glancing up at me with those beautiful, bluish-purplish eyes. Such a pretty color. Like that hydrangea bush. Right before…

  “Hey, H.D., Trent.”

  Jason. My jaw clenches.

  “Oh, hey, Jason,” Trent straightens up and starts moving away from me.

  No! This is not happening again!

  “Wait! Trent,” I jump and move toward him. “I was thinking…”

  “Huh?” Trent looks a little startled. I feel like an idiot. And I know Jason’s back there watching the whole thing.

  “Um… well… remember how I said something about this weekend?”

  “Yeah?”

  I wait a beat. Silence. Nothing’s happening. Trent’s just looking at me.

  “Oh, well.” I start. “I was just thinking…”

  “Yeah?”

  Oh my god! Why won’t he ask me out? It’s like he doesn’t want to date me or something. But that can’t be right. Not after how sweet he’s always been and rescuing me and asking Brian about me. I summon my courage and press on.

  “Well, would you like to catch a movie or something? With me?”

  “Really?”

  His surprise makes me pause. Maybe Trent isn’t so smart. When I think about it, I have no idea what kind of grades he makes. He’s never struck me as a dumb guy, and he always dresses so nicely. But still, he’s awfully slow to catch on to things.

  “Yeah. Like maybe Friday? You could pick me up?”

  “Friday?” he seems to be thinking about something. “Friday… okay.”

  “Okay!” I laugh a little and start to breathe again.

  “You want me to pick you up?” He smiles.

  “Sounds great!” My voice has gone a little high, so I clear my throat.

  “Oh, wait,” he stops.

  “What?” My heart lurches.

  “I might not… would Saturday work for you?” His eyebrows come together over his pretty blue eyes.

  “Saturday?” I start to wilt.

  “Yeah, I just remembered I’ve got this thing. With my mom. On Friday.”

  “Your mom?”

  “Yeah,” he breathes a little laugh.

  “But I thought, doesn’t your mom get her massages on Friday?”

  “Yeah.” He seems confused. I guess he doesn’t realize that it’s my mom doing the massages. Or now it’s Ricky, I guess. Whatever.