I glance at him, biting my smile. “No.”
“I promise not to steal your clothes.”
“Jason.”
“At least I get to kiss you.”
I kiss him again, and at that moment, I feel like I can stay and kiss him all night. His soft brown hair in my fingers, his arms around me. It’s heaven. Then I remember Dad.
“Gotta go!” I give him a squeeze. Our fingers lace as he follows me down to my bike, waiting at the street. But before we get there, I notice a familiar shape in the driveway. The Gremlin.
“Oh, no,” I groan. “The monster mobile’s back.”
“Doesn’t it look awesome?”
“Seriously?”
“It took a little longer in the shop because they had to special order a part to fix the A/C,” he continues. “For you.”
“How thoughtful.”
He pulls me back into his arms and smiles. “You really hate it?”
“Yes.” But his disappointed expression makes me cave. “Still, I could probably get over it. Every now and then.”
He leans forward and presses his soft lips to mine again. Good answer.
The hydrangea bush on the corner isn’t blooming anymore, but I think of Trent whenever I see it. Not long after David’s party, he and his mom moved to Glennville, but we still keep in touch. He texts me and lets me know how much he loves being in the city, even if they’re living in an apartment now. He also says his Mom blames my mom and our church as a corrupting influence. I’m sure Mrs. Perkins agrees, but her power’s gone. Dad’s position is safe.
Trent’s mom has stopped searching his room, he says, and he jokes it’s because she’s afraid of what she might find. I can tell he’s happier, and that makes me happy for him. At school nobody gossips about him in front of me anymore, and I’m getting better at saying how I feel about things as they happen.
Mom and Dad are back to their routine of alternating work, philosophical debate, and then sending me out to pick up dinner. But I’m glad to go because it gives me an excuse to run down to the creek with Jason, where I’m also getting better at Truth or Dare.
Prom arrives, and Reagan and her crew’s “Once Upon a Time” theme seems a fitting end to a year of surprises. The witches have been exposed and their evil schemes foiled, truth has been revealed through acts of bravery, the cycle I was stuck in has been broken, and even Shelly has learned to believe in love again. I suppose in fairytales it’s a bad omen for the prince to take you to the ball in a Gremlin. But I’ve stopped playing games and living in fantasyland.
Jason and I are officially together, and while I’m no longer trying to spot my future husband, my very real boyfriend is gorgeous in a tux. My little black prom dress is just a bit longer than my cheerleader uniform, and as we dance, he plays with the ends of my hair. I smile, he steals a kiss, and I assert that next year will be blissfully crash-free. No faking.
The End
Acknowledgments
With first books, it feels like there’s an entire universe of people to thank—from my mom, who always insisted I’d write a book, to my first readers, Richard, Kim, Jenni, Melissa, Rebecca, and Allyson—my first “fans.” You have no idea how much your excitement meant to me.
I’ve been blessed with many, many supportive people in my life, too many to count. But I would be remiss not to acknowledge the ones who helped me with this book in its early stages, Carolyn Snow Abiad, Tami Hart Johnson, Anne Kenny, Odessa Toma, Jen Daiker, and Kate McKean. Thank you for your great ideas and encouragement.
I was lucky to have ongoing support to make this book available to readers regardless of format, most notably from Susan Quinn, Jolene Perry, and Brent Taylor. You guys rock!
To the blogging community, Matt, Jessica, Sheri, Laura, Lydia, Sarah, Old Kitty, Stina, Katie, PK, Janet, Elle, TJ, Mary, DL, and so many others—I have to stop naming names. You’ve always supported me. You’ve always been there for me. I’ll always be grateful.
For more information about me or my adult titles, visit me online at leightmoore.com or on Goodreads or Facebook as Author Leigh T. Moore.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
The Truth about Faking
Copyright © Leigh Talbert Moore, 2012
www.leightmoore.com
Printed in the United States of America.
Cover design by Jolene B. Perry
All right reserved. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, photocopying, mechanical, or otherwise—without prior permission of the publisher and author.
The Truth About Faking Page 24
