The Truth About Faking

by Leigh Talbert Moore

  “You really think it’s getting serious?” I ask. At some point she’ll have to know about Jason and me.

  “Well, so far we’ve had great chemistry.”

  I look out the window. I’m sure Shelly’s doing her best to make that last statement true. What’ll she say when I suddenly turn up with him? Maybe she’ll give me another “assertiveness-pass”? For modeling her behavior? I bite my lip at the thought. Doubtful. I’m doing unto her what she’s done unto me, and I know from experience it sucks. Things have gotten seriously mixed up.

  At school, I can’t decide who I should track down first, Jason or Trent. I see the Passat’s already parked in Jason’s space, and I wonder if the monster mobile’s permanently retired.

  “Still no Gremlin?” I ask.

  “I think he says it’s coming back this week. But I might have to flatten the tires.”

  I smile, thinking about our conversation Friday night. “He really likes that car,” I say softly.

  “I know. He’s such a freak! Oh, well. I guess you have to overlook some flaws, right?”

  I glance at her, thinking how his car-love is such a cute flaw, and she trots off in the direction of the building. I watch her go as I slowly walk toward the start of the week. I need to find Jason soon. And Trent. I have to clear up what’s actually happening and explain it to Jason so he’ll understand. I’d text him, but I need to see his face and be sure he doesn’t read this wrong. I take a breath to calm myself. I can fix this.

  But by the end of second period, I’ve almost decided to go to the nurse’s office instead of algebra. I haven’t seen Jason or Trent all day, and I’m feeling more and more queasy as I approach Mrs. Gipson’s room. On top of all that, No one’s said anything about the situation with my mom.

  I jump into the bathroom to get my nerves under control before algebra, and of all people, there’s Stephanie Miller. She glances at me as I stare in the mirror, wondering if I can fake a fever.

  “Sorry about your mom. That must suck.” she says between lip gloss swipes. “But at least Ricky’s hot.”

  I glare at her. “It’s not true.”

  She doesn’t turn her head. She just continues smoothing her long brown hair behind her shoulders. “Well, it is hard to believe. I mean, your dad’s a reverend and all, but your mom still looks at him like…”

  Like he’s a chocolate-dipped strawberry. I turn back to the mirror.

  “So you’re going out with Trent again Friday?” I jump, but Stephanie’s looking at me now like she really cares about my answer. How does she know? And if she knows…

  “No. Well, sort of.”

  “Sort of?” She fixes her take-charge, head-cheerleader brown eyes on me. “So are you his new girlfriend or what?”

  “No. Why would you say that?”

  “I’m just saying how it looks.” She studies me a second longer, and then spins toward the door. “See ya, Harley.”

  I lean forward and press my head against the mirror. Now I’m truly freaking out. I’ve got to find Trent and set the record straight. I’ve got to find Jason and explain what happened. And I’m about to get a tardy.

  I take a deep breath and start for Mrs. Gipson’s class. My throat grows tighter with every step I take closer. Just then Trent steps out. I jump and make a little yip! He’s holding a plastic bag filled with tiny yellow and white flowers and a damp paper towel.

  “Hey, I’ve been waiting for you,” he says.

  “I didn’t know,” I say, catching my breath.

  “I thought you might like these.” He smiles. I take the tiny bouquet but don’t meet his eyes.

  “It’s honeysuckle,” he says. “We have some growing along the fence at my house, and I thought of you.”

  “You did?” I frown, looking up at him. Why is he doing this? This is why everyone’s so confused. Including me.

  He shrugs and does a little smile. “It’s your perfume,” he says. “You always smell like honeysuckle.”

  I sniff the flowers. “You’re right,” I say softly. I can’t believe it. He didn’t seem to notice any of that on our real dates.

  “You know you can pull them apart and there’s a little drop of nectar inside?” He pinches a tiny blossom off a stem and then slides the green tip off the bottom. I watch as he pulls the thin white string through the flower and stops at the end. A clear drop appears on the thin strand. He looks at me and smiles.

  “Yeah, I’ve done that before,” I say, thinking. “You know, about Friday—”

  “I’m looking forward to it!”

  “Right. We’re meeting for coffee. Meeting.”

  “That’s the plan!”

  I study his white smile thinking how there was a time, like a week ago, when I dreamed of a moment like this. Of Trent giving me flowers, chatting, noticing my perfume. Now all I wish is that he’d stop. Soon. Before Jason comes around the corner.

  “Well, anyway, I just wanted to make it clear that it’s not really a date. Just friends meeting up to chat.”

  “Good friends.”

  “Um… sure. So you want to meet at the Shadow Java or something?”

  “Great idea! They have this really great macchiato. And a decaf skinny latte—”

  “So we’re all clear then?”

  “You bet,” he smiles. “How does seven sound?”

  I bite my cheek not entirely convinced he’s clear. “Let’s make it six-thirty.” Somehow earlier seems even less date-ish.

  “Okay. And I’ll see you later?”

  “I guess. Oh, and thanks for the flowers.”

  He smiles and does a little wave. I head into class. I’ve done my best to establish that we’re not going on a date, but the whole Friday night part has me worried. I need to get Jason alone so we can talk in person, but my throat goes dry when he walks in the room. He looks so great, and he’s just in his usual faded jeans and t-shirt. His hair’s messy, and I think of pushing my fingers through it. But he doesn’t even look at me when he sits down. Worry twists in my stomach.

  Mrs. Gipson closes the door and walks forward to start the lecture. I glance over to see if I can catch his eye, but I can’t. He continues taking notes and listening. The whole class he’s like that, as if an invisible wall has dropped between our desks and he’s not even aware of my presence. I feel my eyes getting hot. He’s heard what they’re saying. And clearly he believes it.

  The bell rings, and it’s time for lunch. I stand slowly, wondering where to begin, but he stands up right next to me. He looks at me, and it’s like a light’s been switched on and he finally sees me.

  “Braids again?” He asks, lifting one and then letting it drop. I nod. “Those flowers from Trent?” He points at them with his pen.

  “Jason…” I say, still not sure how to start.

  He waits, looking at me.

  “Is something wrong?” Maybe if he goes first, I’ll know where to begin.

  “Nope,” he says.

  “There’s been sort of a misunderstanding…” I can not believe I’m using that word.

  His brown eyes narrow. The next class is filing in, and just as I’m starting my next words, Shelly sticks her head through the entrance.

  “Hey, kids,” she grins. “Jason! I’ve been looking for you everywhere. Come with me.”

  She grabs his hand and pulls him out into the hall. He doesn’t look back as he allows her to drag him out. I slowly follow them, and when I reach the door, I turn toward the cafeteria. Looking back, I see Shelly slipping her hands into his back pockets and smiling, moving in close.

  Jason won’t even look at me, and I turn away, trying not to cry. I can’t believe this is happening. Clearly he thinks I’m going on a real date with Trent. Somehow the whole dumb school does. And clearly he thinks it means something to me, which it doesn’t. Shelly’s right. I’ve seriously got mental problems when it comes to guys.

  My eyes are damp, and I wish I could hit my own self over the head with my books. I should’ve told Trent no
on Sunday. I should’ve told him no today. Forget the coffee, I don’t want to talk. Why is he so persistent? What could he possibly have to say?

  After school, Shelly’s bouncing in her seat again. “Fri-day!” she sings. “We’re going out on Fri-day!”

  “You and Jason?”

  “Ye-ah!”

  “Great,” I say looking down, feeling those tears again.

  “So what’s the deal, Harley? You didn’t even tell me about this weekend.”

  I jump. Did Jason tell her I was at the creek?

  “I’m sorry. It was just a coincidence.”

  Shelly frowns. “Coincidence?”

  “I didn’t know he was going to be there.”

  “Well, I figured that. I mean, what was he doing? Begging her to run away with him? I mean, sure he’s hot and all, but your dad’s a reverend. There’s such a thing as boundaries. That’s one of the first books Mom got after—”

  “Hang on. You’re talking about my mom?”

  “Who else? Stephanie said there was some big deal about Ricky being at your house Saturday night. Did they bring up him running around in a towel, too?”

  “No.” I rub my forehead. I’ve got the worst headache.

  “So what happened? And why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It all happened so fast, and I didn’t know what to say.” I can’t tell her I discussed the whole thing with Jason instead.

  Jason, who’d listened patiently and stroked my hair. Who’d held me close and kissed me. That kiss… I want to die. I have to make him understand what’s really going on with Trent. That I don’t care about him anymore, and it’s not a date.

  “Stephanie says they were in the car together late at night, and your mom didn’t deny any of it.”

  “Yeah,” I say, thinking maybe I can go to his house.

  “Well? What do you think?”

  “About what?”

  “Harley! About the whole thing! I mean, Ricky’s really hot, and they are all into yoga and massage and stuff.”

  “No,” I say. “The answer is no. Nothing happened.”

  “I know. Your mom is totally into your geeky dad, I get it.” Then she pauses. “Actually I don’t get it.”

  I shake my head. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not true.”

  “What if they were like doing some yoga move.” Shelly’s voice gets this mysterious tone. “Like tantric. And he accidentally… you know… fell on her. And his hand—”

  “Shut. Up!” I shout. My chest feels like it might explode. “You’ve got the dirtiest mind. And it’s seriously pissing me off!”

  “Harley! I’m only kidding,” she says, reaching out to stroke my hand. “It’s okay, you can talk to me. I’ve been there. Remember?”

  “I’m not there. My mom is not your dad!”

  Silence fills the car, and despite my anger, I feel a tinge of guilt. As much as her words hurt me, it’s cruel to bring up her dad like that. I remember how she cried, her broken heart, how much it changed her.

  We’re quiet a moment longer. Then we both speak at once.

  “I’m sorry,” we say. Then we both look down.

  “It’s not true,” I say quietly.

  “But if it’s not,” she says. “Then why won’t your mom just deny it?”

  “That’s just my mom…”

  I think about Saturday evening and the way Mr. Perkins questioned her like it was the Salem witch trials or something. I remember his words… behavior modification, a non-repentant spirit.

  “Well, the next time something like this goes down, you’d better tell me,” Shelly says. Then she smiles slightly. “You have to let me be there for you. You know, return the favor.”

  We’re in my driveway, and I smile. Then I lean across and hug her. For a moment it’s like nothing’s changed and we’re still little girls. Not teenagers dealing with major life problems.

  “Hey,” Shelly stops me as I got out. “So you’re going out with Trent again Friday?”

  I shrug.

  “You don’t seem as excited as before. Is it all this stuff with your mom?”

  “No. I mean, I guess.” I can’t explain to her about Jason. Not since she’s apparently going out with him on Friday. It just makes everything a jillion times worse.

  “Maybe you’ll get some more of those something-like-spark-ie kisses. Yes?”

  I look down, and Shelly smiles. “It’s going to be okay, you know.”

  “Everybody keeps saying it is.”

  But when I walk in the house, it’s all worse. The Benders are here and Dad’s waiting in the kitchen.

  “Harley, there’s been another incident,” Dad says. “I have to go to the church for a meeting. It seems, well, Ricky had an appointment with Ms. Jackson this afternoon. And… she says he threatened her.”

  “What! How? I can’t believe it.”

  “I know. It sounds ridiculous, and not at all like Ricky,” Dad says. “But your mom is talking to him, and I think he wants to speak to the session himself.”

  Mrs. Bender walks over to me and places her hand on my arm. “I know this is hard, but your mother is a virtuous woman,” she says.

  I stare at her speechless.

  “You don’t have to go if you’d rather stay home,” Dad says. “The Benders have kindly offered—”

  “No,” I interrupt. “I want to go.”

  He nods, and I go to my room to change. I want to be present this time. Maybe if Mom sees me and my dad sitting there, she’ll realize this is about more than her pride. It’s about more than some personal philosophy or individual protest. Or even protecting her job.

  When we get to the church, it looks like a Sunday morning service. The grapevine must’ve been smoking this afternoon because everybody’s turned out to hear what Ricky has to say. I walk inside and see my mom on the front row beside her co-defendant. She looks serene. I take a seat behind them, and she doesn’t even acknowledge my arrival. She just continues looking straight ahead at the empty pulpit as if my father’s standing there delivering one of those sermons she always finds so inspirational. All of the elders and their wives are across the center aisle in the first two rows.

  Dad goes and sits on Mom’s other side, and I watch as she takes his hand. The Benders are beside me, and I know they’re ready to stand up and defend her. Vigorously if need be. Mr. Bowden walks to the center of the room.

  “I apologize for the sudden nature of this gathering,” he says. “I didn’t realize there would be so many interested parties.”

  He clears his throat and looks down. “Earlier today, we learned that Ricky Marino wanted to address the session about a recent matter. We thought it best to meet here. Of course, since this involves the pastor, members are welcome to be present.”

  Ricky’s jaw is clenched, and he has a strange expression on his face. Mom looks down.

  “Mr. Marino, would you like to come forward?”

  Ricky stands and goes to Mr. Bowden’s side. Mom glances up at him then, and her face is pleading. He turns away from her quickly, and I feel panic tighten my chest.

  “I thought I’d just be talking to you men,” he says. “I didn’t know everyone would be here.”

  There’s a low murmur in the crowd. I look around and see Mrs. Perkins sitting next to Ms. Jackson. They both have smug expressions on their faces, as if they’re eagerly awaiting some major dirt. I feel ill at the sight of them.

  Trent is nowhere to be seen, and I wonder if he even knows what’s happening. I wouldn’t know if Dad weren’t the pastor. At least, I hope I wouldn’t.

  Mrs. Turner is sitting in the side pew looking pained. It appears her lips are moving, and I think she’s praying quietly. A few of the parishioners who I recognize as Mom’s clients are here seeming curious. Several other non-involved, regular members are here. I’m trying to remember if there’s ever been an incident in our church of this magnitude. Nope. This is the biggest. The pastor’s wife accused of adultery.

  Ricky continues
speaking. “I just learned this morning that Jackie had been accused of… well, that it had been said she and I were…”

  His voice trails off, and I realize he’s nervous. My stomach starts to burn. If he’s about to clear their names, he should be eager to announce the truth, and he doesn’t seem so eager to me.

  “The statement was that your relationship is inappropriate,” Mr. Bryant says from where the elders sit. “That is all you have to address.”

  Ricky looks at him. “Jackie said there was more to it than that.” Then he looks down. “She says there was some suggestion that her position as an instructor might also be in jeopardy.”

  I hear throats clearing and Mr. Perkins speaks.

  “There was some debate over whether it gives an improper appearance,” he says. “With the two of you working so closely together. And in such an intimate field.”

  I hate him. And his stupid wife. And their stupid insinuations.

  I glance in front of me and see my mother look down again. Dad slides his arm around her shoulders.

  “Right,” Ricky says. “Well… I think I can put all of your minds at ease and clear Jackie at the same time.”

  I watch as a calm comes over him and wonder what he’s about to say. His brow relaxes and he sets his jaw as if he suddenly doesn’t care that almost a hundred people have come out to hear his public statement.

  “Jackie is a talented teacher, and I’ve learned so much studying under her,” he says. I glance at Mrs. Perkins. She has an evil grin on her face.

  “But even more than that,” Ricky continues. “She’s a compassionate friend, and her heart is so warm.”

  I watch as Ricky looks down and clears his throat. “It’s been a difficult year for me, but she’s always been available to talk and give me advice. I’m not sure I would’ve made it through these past weeks without her.” He looks at Mom, and she smiles at him. “And she’s so beautiful,” he says, like he forgot where we are.

  Mrs. Perkins’ eyebrows rise. He quickly adds, “But I would never do anything… I couldn’t.”