April Fools' Joke (Holiday High Series Book 3)

by Kellie McAllen

  I shake my head. “You don’t have to do that.”

  “I want to. Please. It’s the least I can do. What do you like?”

  “I wouldn’t mind a burger and fries.”

  He smiles at me like I just told him I love him. Guys and their food. “Sounds awesome. Girl after my own heart.”

  For a moment, I wonder if he’s going to invite the rest of the group, but when I glance over at them, most of them are already eating. Jake’s hand is still on my arm, and he turns my body towards the door and leads me out of the cafeteria. Okay, then. I guess it’s just the two of us. I can’t remember the last time I went out alone with a guy but not on a date. This isn’t a date, is it?

  When we get outside, Jake comes to an abrupt stop like he just remembered something. He looks at me with an awkward smile. “Uh, KC? You don’t have a problem with motorcycles, do you?”

  His head turns towards the parking lot, and I follow his gaze to a green and black bike that looks like something out of a racing movie. “That’s what you drove today, that deathtrap?”

  “Yeah, whenever the weather’s nice. Have you ever been on one?”

  I shake my head and dig my fingers into his arm. “You really are determined to kill me, aren’t you?”

  “I’m a good driver, I promise. Come on, you’ll love it.” He grins at me, pride twinkling in his eyes.

  I let him drag me over to the motorcycle. It is pretty cool with dark, sleek lines and a bright pop of green neon. Jake hands me a matching helmet and helps me adjust the strap and buckle it. Then, he slides a leg over the seat and directs me on how to climb on behind him. I put my hands on my knees and sit back so none of my body is touching him.

  “Uh, KC, you’re gonna have to hold on to me.” Jake picks up my hands and wraps them around his middle, pulling me forward, then he pushes my knees in so my thighs are pressed against his hips. There’s nowhere to put my head but right next to his. It feels incredibly intimate.

  “If I tap your leg, that means I’m going to turn. Left leg, left turn, right leg, right turn. Move your head in the direction of the turn. Otherwise, try not to move around too much, okay?”

  “Got it.” I can feel my breath hitting the back of his neck as I speak.

  Jake takes off slowly so I can get a feel for the rhythm, but once we get going, he speeds up, zooming down the road like he’s trying to take flight, and my heart starts revving at the same speed. With the wind rushing against my body, I automatically curl into Jake’s back, huddling into his warmth.

  I feel like I’m in an IMAX movie, the world parting around me as we speed through it. It feels too real to actually be real. All of my senses are on high-alert, and every sensation is magnified. Every scent is stronger, including Jake’s coconut shampoo. I can even feel the temperature drop when we drive through shadows then warm up again when we’re back in the sun. The sounds all blur together, though, creating white noise that makes it feel like I’m all alone in the world. It’s terrifying and exhilarating at the same time, and eventually my panicked expression morphs into a smile.

  It doesn’t take long before Jake pulls into the restaurant parking lot, and the bike slows to a stop. When he turns off the engine, I just sit there for a moment as my racing heart slows, trying to let reality soak back in.

  “What’d you think? Like it?” Jake is grinning at me, and I’m pretty sure I look like a total weirdo cuz my face is stretched open as wide as it can go.

  “That was… really cool. I can see why you like it.” I pull the helmet off, and Jake takes my hand to help me climb down off the bike. I’m a little disappointed when he lets go of it. My legs quiver as we walk inside.

  We order at the counter then head to the condiment station. “Want some ketchup?” Jake wiggles his eyebrows and leers at me, his hand hovering over the ketchup dispenser. I slap him on the shoulder.

  “Not funny.” I make a face and grab some individual ketchup packages. “I think I’ll stick with these.”

  We find a two-person table in a corner that’s as private as you can get in a fast food restaurant. Not that we need privacy since this isn’t a date. But still, I like that Jake picked this table. He sits across from me, and the table is small, so our faces are only a few inches away from each other, giving me a chance to notice the different shades of brown in his hair, the flecks of stubble dotting his tan skin, and the way his eyes look brown and green at the same time.

  I’ve always been popular, always considered pretty, but I feel self-conscious sitting so close to him with my new look. I made every effort to downplay my features when I transferred to West Bay — cutting off and dying my blonde hair, layering thick, pale foundation over my naturally clear, rosy skin, overwhelming my blue eyes with lots of black eye makeup, and hiding my figure under shapeless, black clothes.

  I wonder what Jake thinks of my appearance? I play back his words from the beach in my mind, and my windburned cheeks get warm remembering them. He wanted to know why I hide my “spectacular body” under all this goth stuff. I guess I didn’t do a good enough job if he still noticed it. But then again, he got to see me in a swimsuit, which was not part of my goth wardrobe. I had limited options, so I just picked the only black one I own.

  I kind of want to drop the goth look now that I’ve decided to make some friends, but it would be weird to show up tomorrow looking totally different. Maybe I can do it gradually. I miss my old wardrobe of pretty things.

  Jake keeps the conversation light, asking me a couple basic questions about myself, steering clear of anything too personal, probably because I’ve resisted sharing very much in the past. But I already told him my biggest secret, so talking about the music I like and the shows I watch seems too superficial now. But I do find out that we like quite a few of the same things, which I never would’ve guessed. We have less than an hour for lunch, and we’re still in a public place, so it’s not the best time to get into anything too personal, anyway.

  “So, what are you going to do this weekend?” He says it so casually, I almost don’t realize that it’s a strange thing to ask on a Tuesday.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t quite decided yet,” I answer carefully.

  He smiles like I said the right thing. “Well, my parents are going out of town, so I was thinking about having a party.”

  “Oh.” I’m not sure how to respond to that since he didn’t actually invite me.

  “Do you like parties?” He’s concentrating on his fries when he says that like he’s afraid to come right out and ask me if I want to go.

  “Yeah, sometimes,” I say slowly. I used to, anyway. I was the ultimate party girl — drinking too much and doing stupid things that would later come back to haunt me. You’d think I’d never want to go to another party again after what happened the last time, but the truth is, I miss it. I miss letting loose and having fun with my friends. I miss not worrying about anything for a few hours. Could I have a good time at a party without doing something I’d later regret?

  “Well, maybe you could come, then.” He glances up at me for half a second then drops his eyes again. I can’t quite figure out what is going on in his head. Is he worried I’ll say no if he makes it sound like a date?

  I don’t understand him. Does he like me, or not? Does he want to go out with me, or is he just trying to be friendly? Maybe that’s it. Maybe he doesn’t want me to get the wrong idea and think that he’s interested in me. But based on some of his previous comments, I would swear he is.

  Maybe he thinks that I’m not interested in him, and he doesn’t want to scare me away. Am I interested in him that way? Do I want to go out with Jake? I’m not sure, but a party would probably be okay. It’s not like a normal date since there are usually tons of other people there.

  “I could come if you want me to,” I say, hoping that lets him know I’m not opposed to the idea.

  He peeks up at me then lifts his head and smiles back when I smile at him. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

  It�
��s time to leave, so I don’t get a chance to ask him many details about the party, but I’ve been to enough high school parties I have a pretty good idea what to expect. When he’s dumping our trash, I can’t stop myself from asking the one question I most want an answer to, though.

  “Hey Jake?”

  “Yeah?” He turns around, but I’m right behind him, so our bodies are practically touching. We both suck in a breath and widen our eyes. I resist the urge to take a step back.

  “So this party, did you ask me to come as a friend, or as a date?”

  He stares at me for a minute, trying to read my thoughts. “Will it change your answer if I say I wanted it to be a date?”

  I shake my head, and his tense expression softens into a smile. “Then it’s a date.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jake

  I cruise into 6th period like a sport bike taking a curve, but when I see Dylan talking to Becky Stanley, it’s like hitting a brick wall. I’m instantly reminded of the stupid bet between us.

  Dylan is smiling and flexing his biceps and hovering over Becky in a domineering pose so she has to tilt her head to look up at him. She looks wary, which she should be, but at the same time flattered that one of the most popular guys in school is talking to her. No girl is immune to his appeal, not even paranoid, feminist dorks like Becky Stanley. Dylan is a great athlete, he scored the role of Jafar in the school production of Aladdin — probably because of his devilish good looks and charm, and he walks around in tank tops half the time because his guns are too big to fit into sleeves.

  The only reason a guy like Dylan would be seen with a girl like Becky is because he’s trying to win the bet we made. A bet I seriously regret making. Not because I don’t think I can win, but because if KC ever found out about it, she’d hate me forever.

  I can’t believe how much my feelings for her have changed in the last few days. When I made the bet, I didn’t even think of her as a person. She was just some weird, emo girl who ticked me off with her pretentious, condescending attitude, telling me off when she didn’t even know me. But the truth is, I didn’t really know her.

  I didn’t know that she was reeling from a cruel prank, trying to hide behind strange clothes, dark makeup, and surliness. I didn’t realize that my thoughtless behavior was bringing back all those terrible memories. I didn’t recognize that underneath all that she was beautiful and passionate and caring. When I admitted that I was the one that almost killed her with my reckless hot sauce prank, she forgave me! And she just agreed to go on a date with me. To a party where kissing her in front of everyone is part of a stupid bet.

  I would do anything to take it back, but I’ve known Dylan for years, and the only way I’m getting out of this with her dignity intact is by winning that bet. Even then, there’s no guarantee I can keep Dylan from revealing what an idiot I am. Still, I eavesdrop on their conversation, trying to see if Dylan would be willing to consider dropping it.

  “So Becky, I heard you did a really great performance at the poetry reading last weekend. I wish I could’ve seen it. I heard it was very moving.” Dylan runs a hand through his black hair and gives her that trademark villainous smile.

  Becky raises one wild, overgrown eyebrow at him. “Really? I didn’t take you as a poetry fan.”

  “Oh yeah, I’m definitely into the creative arts, especially poetry. It’s so personal, you know? So revealing.” Dylan puts a hand on his chest and closes his eyes for a moment.

  I snort. I’m pretty sure the only poems Dylan appreciates are dirty limericks. But Dylan’s a good actor, and Becky is actually buying it. Her face gets animated.

  “Yes, exactly! Poems allow us to show the world the beauty and complexity that’s inside us, whether you write them yourself or find one that speaks to you.”

  Dylan sits down in the seat behind her and leans forward. “Do you write a lot of your own poetry?”

  Becky blushes and pushes a frizzy mass of hair behind her ear. “All the time. The human experience is just so intense, poetry is the only way I know how to process it all sometimes.”

  Dylan wrinkles up his face like her words are cutting into his soul, and he puts a hand on her shoulder. “I wish I could learn to do that — express my innermost thoughts and feelings through poetry. Do you think you could teach me?”

  Becky stays as still as a statue, but her wide eyes betray her. “You want me to teach you how to write poetry?”

  “Would you? I just need an outlet for all these… feelings inside me.” Dylan clutches his chest again, a heart-wrenching look on his face. Oh my God, he’s buttering her up so thick, I can feel my arteries clogging.

  Becky gives him a shy smile, her buck teeth sticking out a little. “Sure, why not? I love sharing my passion with like-minded individuals.”

  Dylan smiles back, revealing a row of straight, perfect, white teeth bright enough to blind her. “That would be so awesome, Becky. Are you free this Saturday?”

  Becky has a distraught look on her face like she can’t believe she has to turn down Dylan Evanston. “Actually, my friends and I have plans to get together this weekend.”

  But Dylan is not that easily deterred. “Well, what are you guys doing? Because my friend is having a party. Maybe we can do the poetry thing for a little while, then you and your friends could go with me to the party.”

  Becky looks simultaneously intrigued and terrified by the prospect of attending a party with Dylan. She’s probably never been invited to one before and doesn’t think she’ll fit in. She’s definitely right about that. She pulls a flap of skin off her chapped lower lip. “I don’t know…”

  I can practically hear the gears grinding in Dylan’s head as he tries to figure out a solution. He’s probably never been turned down before, so he’s not sure how to respond to this. A couple seconds later, his eyes light up, and his smile returns full force.

  “To be honest, we could really use some more girls at the party. There’s a lot of single guys right now. Do you think your friends would be interested in meeting some people?”

  Becky’s eyes light up, and I shake my head in amazement. Man, this guy is slicker than the oil on Becky’s pimply forehead.

  Becky nods, biting her lip. “Yeah, they might like that.”

  “Cool! Can I get your number?”

  I can’t believe he pulled it off that easily. I knew Dylan had game, but damn, that was amazing. Now there’s no way I’m ever gonna get him to call this bet off. I’m just gonna have to win it, because if he does, he’ll be sure to brag about it. If I win, he might be willing to keep it quiet.

  I feel bad for Becky and her friends, though, and I’m kicking myself for daring Dylan to go out with her. Getting to know KC has taught me to look a little deeper than what’s on the surface. Becky may seem like a loser, but she’s still a person, and she probably has some really great qualities if anyone would make the effort to look for them.

  In the locker room after gym class, Dylan has to make a show of bragging about how he got Becky to agree to go out with him already. The other guys are impressed, of course. That is, until it comes out that he invited her group of equally-dorky friends.

  “That should be good for some laughs. I’m sure Jake will think of a prank to pull on them to entertain us, right Jake?” Aiden jabs me with his elbow.

  Dylan glares at him. “No way, man. No sabotaging. I need Becky to think I’m into her, and she’ll never believe it if you goons play tricks on her girlfriends.”

  “So, you’re just gonna ruin an awesome party by letting a bunch of troglodytes crash it?” Matt grouses. “Why should we even come?”

  Dylan’s voice gets a little high and squeaky. “Hey, you gotta come! I told Becky there’d be a lot of guys there.”

  “You better make it worth our while, then.” Matt bangs a locker for effect.

  Dylan narrows his eyes at him and puts his fists on his hips, making his biceps bulge. “Fine. How about a little challenge? Everybody who doesn’t already h
ave a date pitches in $5. The person who kisses the ugliest girl at the party without being rejected wins the money. Deal?”

  My stomach curdles like I ate bad fish, but the other guys are obviously excited about it. They immediately start chattering about who they could invite to the party, throwing out names and ranking their “attributes” like some sick, reverse beauty pageant. By the end of the day, the entire male population of West Bay knows about the dogfight.

  I want to stop this, but I have no idea how. Even if I cancel the party, I know somebody else will offer to have it. The guys are just way too excited about this.

  I don’t think there’s any way I can keep this from happening, but maybe I can use this to my own advantage to get out of the bet with Dylan. I’m still worried that KC will find out about it. On Friday, I decide to approach Dylan to see if I can negotiate.

  I can’t get a minute alone with him till the day is almost over, but I finally get my chance when I find him taking a whiz in the guys’ bathroom.

  I sidle up to the urinals, leaving an empty one between us. “Hey Dyl, it looks like your party game is a big hit. The pot must be $500 by now.”

  Dylan flexes his muscles and leers. “You afraid you’re losing your title of prankmaster?”

  I shake my head. That’s the last thing I care about. “Naw, man. I just thought maybe you’d like to reconsider the terms of our deal. Becky’s no model, but I don’t think she’s the ugliest girl that’ll be there tomorrow. I thought you might want a chance at the bigger pot.”

  Dylan narrows his eyes and stares at me, breaking the bathroom code. It’s totally not cool to make eye contact at the urinals. Now I’ve got performance anxiety.

  “Let me guess, things aren’t going as great with KC as you thought they were, and you know you’re gonna lose. Well, you’re not getting out of it that easy. I don’t back down from a challenge.”

  He zips up his pants and stalks over to me, and my aim gets a little shaky. “I’m gonna win that bet, Jake, and you’re gonna pay for me to have the best prom ever.”