“And then there’s that whole ‘try something new’ thing,” I say, starting to feel angry.
“What?”
“Like you were saying about being loyal and trying something new.”
“I was talking about you and me. Your parents are completely different.” He reaches for my hand.
I look directly in his eyes. “Oh really? Shelly’s dad wasn’t so different.”
“I don’t know Shelly’s dad, but I know your parents. I’ve seen them together and it’s way past old or new with them. What they’ve got’s real.”
I look down feeling my eyes getting hot. “Real,” I say softly. My chest clenches.
He pulls me to him again. “I think you’re tired and you’re hurt,” he says. “I bet if you got some rest and maybe talked to your mom about it, you’d feel better.”
I don’t answer. I don’t tell Jason I haven’t been able to talk to my mom about anything in what feels like a year. That she’s always too busy teaching Ricky or working with a client or dispensing herbal wisdom.
“I don’t know.” Is all I say.
Several minutes pass, and I realize the sounds of dogs barking and kids playing have stopped.
“I gotta get home.” I stand and dust off my shorts. Jason stands beside me and takes my hand as we walk back to the street. I pick up my bike and glance at his car. He’s in a newish-looking Volvo tonight. “I never asked you what your dad does. I mean, to make you all Shadow Creek material.”
“Oh,” he grins. “He’s a doctor. Psychiatrist.”
For some reason that’s funny to me. “Oh my god,” I breathe. “What’s that like?”
Jason shrugs. “He’s gone a lot. On call and stuff, but when Mom died, he knew all the right ‘things you’re supposed to say following the loss of a loved one.’”
He says it in a deep, fake-formal voice, and I wrinkle my nose. “Really?”
“Yeah. We made fun of how stupid they all were. He’s kind of a good listener, I guess.”
I look down. “I’m sorry. My problems must seem really dumb to you.”
“No! This isn’t dumb. It’s actually pretty serious.”
I get on my bike and pause. “Thanks. I think you’re a good listener.”
He smiles. “I like listening to you.”
I study his lips. His white teeth and his smile. Then I look back at his eyes and notice his expression has changed. He steps forward and with his forefinger, he gently traces a line from my forehead down the side of my face, moving my hair back. Then his palm rests on my cheek and he leans forward and kisses me. It’s the softest thing, just his lips touching mine, but it steals my breath. It’s electric, and when he straightens back up, I’m sure he felt it too. His dark eyes are so deep.
“’Night,” he says softly, dropping his hand.
I nod and turn the bike toward my house. I think about Jason the whole ride back. He always makes me feel better, every time we’re together. It’s so effortless. And that kiss… I get home and I know what I have to do.
But Dad’s waiting for me when I walk in the door. They both are. Mom’s in the living room with her hands on her hips and Dad’s in the kitchen holding his keys. I can’t believe it.
“Harley!” Mom says. “Where have you been?”
No one even noticed when I left, and the last thing I expected was them to jump on me the minute I got home.
I’m immediately defensive. “I rode my bike down to the creek—”
“You do not leave the house like that at night.” Her voice is angry, and it sparks the anger in me.
“I’m surprised you even noticed!” I shout back. “All you care about these days is yourself!”
“Harley.” Dad’s voice is low and even, and I know it means for me to get control, but I’m shaking and not sure I can. I stare at the floor, trying not to cry, as he puts his keys back on the rack and walks toward me.
“A lot happened here this evening,” he says in a calm voice, putting his arms around me. “We wanted to talk to you. But you were gone. We were worried.”
“Sorry,” I mumble, still fighting tears.
Mom sighs and drops onto the couch. Dad motions me to a chair.
“Sit down, honey,” he says.
“I know what’s going on,” I say, my voice still shaky. “You don’t have to tell me. I was listening.”
“I want to be sure you understand what’s going to happen tomorrow,” he says.
“I understand. And I really just want to go to my room. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Dad puts his hand on my shoulder. “I know this is hard, but it’s just one of those things. We’ll get through it, and soon it’ll be like nothing ever happened.”
“Like nothing ever happened?” Can he possibly believe that?
“Yes,” he says smiling.
I shake my head. I don’t know what alternate universe he thinks I’m living in. Or what alternate universe he’s living in, but it’ll take something major for it to be like this never happened.
Thirteen
The next morning is like some weird out of body experience. Getting dressed, Mom threatens to wear red to the service, but Dad insists she be reasonable. Then at church we all sit together on the front row, Mom in beige and me in a spring pastel. Dad’s associate pastor leads the sermon, and everyone acts like nothing’s going on. But I can feel two hundred sets of eyes on the backs of our heads. The icing on this whole bizarre cake comes at the end of the sermon when Mrs. Turner’s pipe organ goes straight into the song “Praise the Lord.” And just like that, the Doxology tradition is broken.
When the song’s over, everyone makes their way out the back doors, while Mom and Dad stand beside me. No one even approaches us to say anything. But there’s nothing you can say if you believe the rumors, and if you don’t, Mom’s chosen not to address them.
I watch the crowd rapidly disappearing and then I see Trent standing in the back of the sanctuary facing me. I stand for a few seconds looking back at him with my arms crossed until he motions for me to come there. Dad’s talking to the associate pastor, so I move into the aisle and walk back to see what he wants.
“Hey, Harley,” he says. He seems embarrassed and won’t meet my eyes. “Can I talk to you?”
“I don’t know.”
His eyes meet mine then, and I’m less impressed by their pretty color. “I guess you’re mad.”
“Good guess.”
“Could I just explain what happened? Please?”
I think about it a moment. I am curious to hear what he has to say for himself.
“OK,” I say, and he pushes the heavy wooden door open and holds it for me.
I walk past him outside, and when I glance toward the street, I see Jason leaning against a tree. He sees me and smiles. I smile back at him, but then Trent comes out and catches the elbow of my crossed arm. Jason looks confused. His smile fades, and I start to motion for him to wait. But Trent pulls me around to the side of the building.
“Is it okay if we talk over here? I’d rather my mom not see,” he says.
I follow him, and once we’re out of sight, he stops and turns back to me. We stand there for several seconds as he looks down and kicks the grass. His hands are in his pockets.
“Well?” I finally say.
“I just… well, I wanted to say I’m really sorry about my mom. I didn’t know all this was going to happen.”
“What did you think was going to happen? You told me yourself how she is, how she’s so suspicious. And then you told her about Ricky’s car?”
He glances up, and the sadness is back. “I never thought. I mean, I didn’t know it would turn into this big thing.”
“You didn’t know what would turn into this big thing?”
“When Ricky was at our house, I said I liked his car and that I remembered seeing it at your house. Remember? Last Saturday night?”
“Of course.”
“Then Mom starts asking me all about it. Next t
hing I know, she has me over at Mrs. Perkins’, and she’s asking me all these questions. And Mr. Perkins—”
“So you didn’t know why they were asking?”
“No. I mean, Mom was really mad when I got home Friday, and she asked me if I ever saw him at your house. With your mom.”
“Why was she mad?”
Trent shrugs. “I don’t know. But, Harley. You’ve got to know I never meant to cause problems for your family. I never thought…” He lets out a big exhale. “Can’t you forgive me?”
I look down again. I know I should say yes and accept his apology. It’s what Dad would tell me to do, but this is totally different. I wonder if even he could forgive Trent so quick. Knowing Reverend Dad, he probably could.
“I don’t know,” I say.
“Why won’t your mom just say it’s not true? I’m sure everybody’ll believe her.”
I shake my head. “My mom can be a little stubborn about certain things.”
And maybe that’s the problem. My frustration with her is making it hard for me to accept his apology. I push a piece of hair behind my ear. This is so hard.
We stand there a few minutes in silence. I don’t know what to say, but Trent doesn’t seem ready to let me go. He looks up at a nearby bush. Then I watch as he reaches over and breaks off one of the blooms and hands it to me. It’s small with thick white petals and dark green leaves, and the fragrance is sweet but strong like a magnolia.
“It’s pretty,” I say.
“Then it’s for you.”
I sort-of smile. Is this supposed to be a peace offering?
He puts his hands in his back pockets and looks down. “I kind of had another reason for wanting to talk to you,” he says. “I mean, I wanted to apologize for my mom, and I hope you’ll forgive me?”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“Well, maybe it would help if I apologize about Friday, too.”
Now I’m totally confused. “You want to apologize for Friday?”
“I’m really sorry about our date. The movie and all.”
“Oh. Just forget it.”
“It was supposed to be different, but I couldn’t seem to do it.”
“Do what?”
He shakes his head. “I mean, I want to do something to make all this up to you.”
“You don’t have to.”
“What if we went out again Friday? Yeah?”
“Are you kidding?”
“No! I was just thinking, like I said. I could do something nice for you.”
I look down and shake my head. “No. But thanks.”
“Oh, c’mon, Harley.” He says it like I’m being unreasonable. I don’t know what he’s thinking. “I know you’re mad right now, but you said we could talk before, and I think… I’d like to talk to you.”
At this point, I can’t think of anything he might say I’d want to hear. And besides that, I’ve given him two chances. That’s enough tries, and even if it isn’t, there’s Jason.
“Trent, I just don’t—”
“Tell you what, we’ll go for coffee. I know the perfect place.”
There’s only one place, I think as I prepare to refuse. But he quickly continues.
“Don’t answer now. Just say you’ll think about it, and we can talk tomorrow.”
I look back at the flower, not sure what to say. After all that’s happened, after his mom, after our two terrible dates and even worse kiss, after all that texting, after Jason… Why is he doing this? Why now?
“You want to go for coffee,” I say.
“Yes!” He practically shouts, seeming relieved. “A coffee date.”
“Wait. I didn’t say date—”
“We’ll talk more about it later.” He squeezes my hand and pulls me back to the front of the church, but I’m still trying to explain how I didn’t actually agree to go out on a date with him.
He smiles and steps away once we’re in sight of everyone, like we weren’t just having a conversation that ended with him turning meeting for coffee into a date. I look up and see my parents walking toward our car, but Jason’s gone.
“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he whispers before going to his mother, who’s standing in a small circle talking to Mrs. Perkins. I can only guess what that cluster’s discussing.
I hurry to catch up with my parents. There’s plenty of time before Friday to sort out whatever just happened. I reach Mom at the same time as Mrs. Bender who’s hurrying over from her car.
“Jackie?” she’s huffing as she joggles up to us, and I’m reminded of those ducks that return every spring.
My mom looks up and stops. “Lois.”
“I just want you to know nobody believes that pack of lies Sandra’s spreading,” Mrs. Bender huffs out the words as she catches her breath.
“I don’t know,” Mom says, glancing in the direction of the Perkins group. “I think some people might believe it.”
“Idiots. Pawns and idiots. You just need to set the record straight, and we can get back to our lives.”
Mom smiles. “Thank you, Lois. But I’m not sure I’m ready to give up my work over idle gossip.”
“You don’t have to give up anything,” Mrs. Bender says. “We’ll support you. Tom and I are ready to do whatever needs to be done—”
“We’re just taking it one day at a time,” Mom stops her. “But thank you.”
She reaches out and gives Mrs. Bender’s arm a grateful squeeze and then walks back to the car. I watch as Mrs. Bender shakes her head and turns back to her vehicle. She jerks her chin away when Mrs. Perkins gives her a nod, and I decide Mrs. Bender can talk about diarrhea all she wants. I’ll never make faces or laugh at her again.
As always, Ricky’s at our house first thing Monday morning, and I’m especially annoyed that he’s whistling some tune like he’s the happiest person on the planet. I go in the kitchen and start loading my lunch bag, and as usual, he walks over to smooth his hands over my hair.
“Just lovely,” he says. I jerk my head away.
“I’m really not in the mood,” I snap.
He crosses his arms and leans back against the counter, frowning. I give him the most disgusted look I can manage.
“You know, Harley, I’ve really only ever been nice to you. I wish for once you’d be a little less… like this to me,” he says motioning with his hands.
“Mm hm. So how was your appointment with Ms. Jackson?”
His expression changes only slightly, but he hides it with a smile and starts stretching his arms. “She’s an interesting client.”
“I’m sure,” I say turning back to my lunch.
“You know, this whole angry teen thing you’re doing?” He motions again. “It’s not the most attractive look for you.”
I glare at him. “No?”
“No,” he says. “You’re much prettier as the sweet ingénue. And all that frowning’s going to give you premature aging. Even less attractive.”
“I really don’t care if you find me attractive,” I say. “In fact, I wish you would pay more attention to girls your own age. In Glennville. And leave my family alone.”
He laughs. “Your family?”
“Yes.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I look at him for a second. I’ve never really confronted Ricky about the way he carries on with my mom, but we’re going on a year now. No time like the present.
“It means you’re causing a lot of problems here, and I’m sick of it.”
“Problems?” he repeats. “Like what, princess?”
“Like Dad losing his job problems.”
Ricky is instantly serious. “I don’t know what-”
I cut him off. “You just showing up here at night? Running around half-dressed and showing up at basketball games and touching my mom and being all affectionate? People have noticed.”
My voice is sharp and his face turns red, but I don’t care. I want him to be embarrassed. I want him to be gone.
“Mom’s really only ever been nice to you,” I continue, using his words. “She’s worked with you and given you lots of help. You’ll be a real jerk if you don’t set the record straight.”
“What record?” Ricky’s voice is earnest. “Harley, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I hear Shelly’s horn beep outside. “I’ve got to go. Be sure and ask Mom what’s going on at church.”
I leave him standing in the kitchen with a dumb look on his face. Adrenaline’s pulsing through my body, and I feel like I could run all the way to school. If that conversation doesn’t change things around here, nothing will.
Shelly’s excited as always when I get in the car, and for once I’m glad she doesn’t go to our church anymore. It doesn’t appear she has any idea what’s brewing among the parishioners.
“So what’dja do this weekend?” She bubbles. “Friday was so great. I almost got Jason naked.”
It’s all too much. I actually laugh.
“What?” Shelly frowns. “I did!”
“Oh, I know.”
“What do you mean you know?” She glances at me, and I remember she didn’t know I was there Friday night, hiding in the creek.
“Sorry. I mean, I’m sure. How’d you do it?”
“Jumped out of the car at the creek. He chased after me, of course, and we almost went skinny dipping.”
“Well, what happened? Why didn’t you?”
“Oh some angry old man came out and started yelling at us,” she giggles. “It was so great. I love stuff like that.”
I look down. All the drama in my house has distracted me from my two other problems. Trent and Shelly.
“I’m hoping to do a little better this weekend,” she continues.
“This weekend?”
“Yeah, I’m going to let him know I’m available. I didn’t hear from him Saturday, and when I called yesterday, he seemed distracted. I figure I can drop some hints when we get to school.”
I remember my weird Friday thing with Trent and bite my lip. I’m planning to explain that to Jason—and Trent, too, for that matter. It is not a date. I did not agree to go out with him. For whatever reason Trent needs to talk to me about something, and I guess I sort of said I’d listen. Now I can’t remember how it happened exactly. It was all so fast, and I was still getting over that bizarre church service.
The Truth About Faking Page 17
