by Rachel Hruza
“Hi?” he asked back.
“This is Truth, my little sister,” Charity said. She gestured toward me and sort of shifted her hips. I shifted my hips right back, not caring about my brace shoving my butt-fat out further than it already was.
“I would hardly say ‘little,’” I retorted.
“I can tell. You’re both the same kind of pretty,” Jacob said.
I melted. “Abubloga,” I muttered—gibberish. I couldn’t form words; an older, hot guy had just said I was pretty.
Charity laughed, obviously embarrassed. She turned her back on me a little bit. “Thanks for coming,” she said to Jacob. “Sorry it was such a sucky game.”
“No way! You were awesome!” Jacob said. He put his arm on her shoulder. “We were shouting for Killer Charity. Didn’t you hear us, Killer?”
“Charity doesn’t even like to kill bugs,” I said, putting my arm on her other shoulder. “I’d rethink that nickname.”
“Tru, I think your friends are waving to you over there,” Charity said, pointing to where Megan stood next to Brendan while he talked to a group of guys. Megan looked really ill at ease, and I could tell she felt out of her element.
“I don’t care,” I said. “I’d rather stay here and harass you. I’m your annoying ‘little’ sister, remember?”
Charity sighed. “You’re my mature little sister, okay?”
“You know it. See ya, Jake!” I slapped him a high five and walked away, deciding I’d done my younger sisterly duty of making them both uncomfortable.
As I crossed the gym, a familiar set of wheels rolled across my tracks.
“That was quite a game,” Oliver said.
“A blow-out. Those Bucks didn’t stand a chance,” I said.
Oliver grinned. “Walkin’ roadkill.”
Megan was glaring at me. I hadn’t really talked to anyone about Oliver, and I sort of liked it that way—I wasn’t sure Megan would understand our friendship.
“Look, about our last visit—”
Oliver waved his hand. “Forget it,” he said. He wrinkled his face. “And don’t call it a ‘visit.’ It makes it sound like a retirement home or a hospital.”
“Gotcha, Gramps,” I said, relieved he was still willing to smile at me.
“Hey, you know that thing I wanted your help with? Could you—”
I had to cut him off. “I’m sorry, I think Megan’s using her psycho best friend telepathy to tell me she needs me.”
Oliver glanced over his shoulder. “Ah, yes. I think I’m feeling some of her powers myself. Those eyes are spectacular.”
“Spectacularly scary.”
“Go about your business, then. I’ll see you around.”
He left before I could respond. I hollered farewell after him, but if he heard me, he chose not to reply.
I couldn’t erase the guilt I felt staring at the back of Oliver’s brown curls. I wanted to chase after him, but my best friend duty called me onward in the opposite direction.
“Thanks for blowing me off,” Megan said, as I approached.
I kept myself from rolling my eyes. “I was telling my sister she did a good job. Why didn’t you mingle? You’re the best mingler I know.”
I gestured to the gaggle of guys beside us.
“With a missing tooth? They’ll either think I’m weird or in kindergarten.”
“Hey now, I lost a tooth in fifth grade. Let’s not mock the old loose-toothers.”
Megan smiled slightly, but she put her hands in her pockets and shrugged her shoulders, a very un-Megan-like move.
“Come on,” I said, pulling her toward the group. “Matthews!” I said. Brendan turned and smiled at us.
“Your sister is awesome!” one of the eighth-grade boys said.
“Yeah, she is,” I replied.
“And she’s hot,” said another.
I didn’t know how to answer that. Should I defend my sister’s honor and claim my feminist roots? Part of me knew Charity would like to hear this, but she would probably be embarrassed too.
It got quiet. I knew it was my fault. But I couldn’t think of anything to say.
“Truth pulled a tooth out of my mouth today,” Megan said suddenly. A round of voices leapt excitedly from the circle.
“I heard!”
“Lemme see it!”
“Is the tooth fairy still a thing at your house? That tooth’s gotta be worth at least five dollars.”
Brendan pulled me aside since his friends were distracted with Megan’s now elaborate story. Already her fingers were up by her mouth, representing the straws she’d jammed on her teeth. She’d clearly come out of her funk.
“I need your help with History,” Brendan said, as he led me to a secluded corner of the gym. I could see candy wrappers and pieces of chewed gum under the bleachers. The metal bars of the bleachers looked old and rusted. Kids used to play on them, but now they didn’t even look fun; just dangerous and full of tetanus.
Ever since running into Oliver, I couldn’t concentrate. My mind kept struggling to keep up with the people in front of me. I kept staring at the bleachers, my eyes glazing in and out of focus.
“Landers’ History class,” Brendan said, drawing me back to the light of the gym.
“His story or his story?” I said, pointing at two different people.
“Very funny, Trendon,” Brendan said, smiling.
“I’m just here to bring some razzmatazz to your life with my wordplay,” I said. “What do you need help with?” I’d been having him read through the chapters at our study sessions, and he was improving at a surprising speed.
“Well, we have that big paper due, and I can’t risk copying someone else’s because of my last test.”
“Yeah. How long is that again?”
“Three pages.”
“Three? That’s nothing!”
“Good. So you can knock it out this weekend and get it to me?”
I felt as if I’d taken a cannonball to the stomach—without my plastic shield to protect me. “What?”
“It’s due Monday, right? Is the weekend enough time?”
“Brendan, I’m not comfortable with writing your homework.”
“It’s no biggie, Trendon. You can do it.” He smiled at me, and that toothy grin still had its dazzling effect, even though I wanted to run away and never have to talk to him again. While I was wrestling with my moral and ethical values inside my head and heart, he seemed to think I was worried about the subject matter being too difficult. I had my own paper to write about art and the artisans of Mesopotamian culture.
“You’re smart. I know you can write it in no time.”
“What’s yours about?” I asked, trying to think of another way to shift the guilt to him.
“The Assyrian Army. I told Landers it would be about weapons.”
I considered myself a pacifist, and I hated weapons. Weapons meant blood and blood meant a woozy Truth.
“Not my forte,” I said. “Better find someone else.”
“Come on, Truth,” Brendan pleaded. I’d never seen him so terrified. I instinctually looked around, to see if anyone saw how sad he looked. I didn’t want them to think I was the cause. He spoke barely above a whisper. “You know you’re the only one who can help me.”
I knew he was trying to persuade me, but I actually thought about it. Was I the only one? Supposedly I was the only one who knew he couldn’t read, but everyone liked him. He could ask anyone to jump through hoops for him and he or she would do it. And didn’t he have his sister’s papers?
I frowned at myself. I was trying to come up with ways for him to cheat, acting completely against everything I stood for, even my own name.
“I’m sorry, Brendan,” I said, sincerely. “I really like you, but I can’t help you cheat. You’re only hurting yourself. I don’t want to be a part of that hurt.”
“Whatever,” Brendan said. He sighed. “I get it. You’re too good to help people like me.”
“People li
ke you? What’s that supposed to mean?” But I was thinking: handsome princes. Illiterate, handsome princes.
“People who need help.”
“That’s not true! I’ve been helping you ever since you told me you couldn’t—couldn’t you know, and you’ve made progress! You’re underestimating yourself, Matthews!” I slapped him on the shoulder as if I were one of his football buddies. He raised an eyebrow.
“You’re impressed by my strength, I see,” I said.
He looked away. “Impressed isn’t the right word.”
We walked back to the group of guys who were now captivated by Megan. She was talking about her visit with the male dentist, who had a long ponytail that had continuously threatened to land in Megan’s mouth. I was a bit miffed. She hadn’t shared this story with me.
The boys all laughed as Megan pretended to vomit hair. Even though we weren’t on the best of terms, I was happy Megan had some interested onlookers. Maybe by the time we got home, she’d like me again.
Just as I was about to join in the conversation and point out Megan hadn’t described my heroic part in her tooth story, Charity ran up to me and yanked me from the group.
“Jacob just asked me out!” She grabbed my hand and jumped up and down. I stared at her. Who was this girl? Surely not my sister, who was practical about everything, right down to the white tennis shoes she wore every single day to school.
“Good luck,” I said. “You’re not sixteen. Mom and Dad are going to say no.” Even though it was sad, I sang out “no” in a happy tune, hoping not to pop her metaphorical balloon of bliss.
“I didn’t think about that.” Charity’s face was crestfallen. Balloon popped. “I already told him yes.”
I saw my parents and brother waiting to talk to Charity. Wanting to congratulate her again, and also keep her ego in check from the praise I knew Mom and Dad would give her, I followed in a slow saunter. More sweat leaked down my back, causing me to involuntarily shiver. Gross, I thought.
“We really are proud of you, Charity,” I heard my dad say. “You played so hard. I’m marking this as a win in the Charity Trendon column.”
“But an utter annihilation on the Lady Bucks’ yearbook page!” I said.
Charity barely looked at me. “Jacob asked me out,” she told Mom and Dad.
“Jacob?” said my mother. She nodded and looked around. To my surprise, she wasn’t as surprised as I was. She had heard of this Jacob before.
“I know you’ve thrown the number sixteen around before,” Charity said, “but I’m really close. I’ll be sixteen next summer?” She pulled her shoulders up to her ears, trying to pull off a cute, pleading stature. She did; she looked convincingly cute. I, however, wasn’t sold. I looked at Mom and Dad.
My parents turned toward each other and huddled together; as in an actual huddle. They put their heads together, their hands on each other’s shoulders. Harold stood between them, looking up with furrowed eyebrows.
“Really? What are you doing?” Charity said.
She looked around to see if anyone else was watching. Some people were. I thought about joining the huddle to make Charity even more embarrassed, but I had my reputation to consider too.
My parents whispered back and forth, glancing periodically at Charity and then at me. Harold shook his head, adding a few noes. My father winked at us a few times, and my mother nodded a lot. They were putting on a show. Clearly they’d had this conversation before. Finally, they shouted “Break!” and turned back to us.
My mother faked tears. “We never thought this would happen. We know you’re a good catch, but for someone else to notice, it’s just heartwarming.”
“My heart is very warm,” Harold said, nodding and patting his chest.
My father crossed his arms, stern and stoic. “And what are this boy’s intentions, dear daughter?”
“He can probably hear you. He’s right over there,” Charity said, through clenched teeth.
Mom and Dad grew serious, content they’d performed their parental duty. “You may go on a date,” my mother said.
Charity’s face lit up.
“One date,” Mom added.
“As long as Truth goes with you,” my father added.
The color drained from Charity’s face. “No!”
“Hey! I’m fun! I can make a jolly good time for those around me!” I said, insulted.
“That’s why she can’t come!” Charity said, gesturing angrily at me. “She says weird things, and she’s just going to try to embarrass me the whole time.”
“Those are the conditions, Chary-bear,” my dad said.
I put my hands on my hips and looked at Charity, a huge smile on my face.
“Fine,” she said.
She ran over to Jacob for a “good-news, bad-news” session. For some reason, it didn’t bother me that I was the bad news.
“It’s nice to see her so happy,” Harold said, resting his hands on Mom and Dad. “We did this.”
My dad squeezed his shoulders, and Harold smiled up at him.
“So, who are you going to bring along on your double date?” my mom asked me.
“Whaaaaat?” I asked. “I thought it was just me.”
“You can bring a friend,” my dad said. “The gender doesn’t matter, but it is just a friend.”
“Oh,” I said, pleased. “I’ll think about it.”
Mid-sentence, on the word “think,” I began walking toward Brendan. He was talking to the few boys still meandering around the gym. Mostly everyone but the team and family members had already left. I waited until he had finished talking to them, and then I pounced.
“Wanna go on a date?” I asked, embarrassed I couldn’t contain my giddiness.
“What?” he asked, surprised.
“Okay, so it’s not a date. We’d be going as friends—chaperones, really—with Charity and this Jacob guy, if that is his real name.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. Maybe tomorrow. She’s talking to him right now.”
“Hmmm.”
I couldn’t believe how long he was taking to say yes, he’d love to go. I wanted to shake his cute features until they fell off his face.
“If you write that paper, I’ll go with you.”
A ton of bricks fell on me. I was sure of it. Maybe a hurricanic wave had just swept me away and knocked me out cold in the middle of the ocean. I was certain I hadn’t heard correctly. I’d imagined it. He didn’t like me enough to get some crappy fast food and go to a movie without getting something in return?
“S-seriously?”
Brendan’s face drooped. “I just thought if you liked me enough to ask me out, you’d like me enough to write a paper for me.” He took my hand. “But if you really want me to go, I’ll go.”
I should have thrust his hand away, pushed him down and stormed away, but I felt sorry for him. If he really thought I was the only one who could help him, maybe he felt as helpless as I did when I changed clothes for Gym. I didn’t want anyone else to experience the same anxiety I did every day. As I stared at him, I felt as if the weight of the world was on my shoulders. I knew Newton was there, standing on them and laughing hysterically. The only way to find relief seemed to be to give in.
“Okay. I’ll write the paper,” I muttered softly.
He dropped my hand. “You’re the best, Trendon! I can’t wait for our date. Call me with the deets!”
“The what?”
“Details,” Megan said, as Brendan ran after his friends. She had walked up behind me. “So you and Brendan are an item now?”
“No,” I said.
“Well, he said you’re going on a date.”
“It’s not a date. We’re chaperones.”
“Don’t be weird. Parents are chaperones. You’re dating.” She crossed her arms. For some reason, I’d expected her to be happy for me. Instead, she was cold and harsh. I knew she didn’t know about the paper, because Brendan wouldn’t want people to know, but I could tell she w
as angry with me.
I also didn’t like that she’d called me weird. It was one thing for my sister to say it when she was annoyed, but the way Megan was saying it felt as if Isaac Newton was now tap dancing on my shoulders.
“Whatever,” I said.
We met up with my parents and Charity, who was beaming as if she could light up the night, and left the gym. As I thought about the possibility of Brendan just using me for homework and not actually liking me for who I was, I felt another dribble of sweat snake down my shoulder blade.
For the rest of the evening, my chest hurt, and it wasn’t from Megan’s refusal to say more than two words to me all night. I couldn’t believe Brendan had wrapped me around his perfect little finger, convincing me to go against my moral upbringing, my ethos, for him. As I lay in bed in the shadowed darkness, I caught myself thinking of ways to write a good introduction to a paper about weapons.
The Assyrian Army was made of dedicated rulers and citizens whose goals were to build an empire and maintain lasting loyalty.
Loyalty. I scoffed as I thought about the word, mouthing it to no one in the dim bedroom. I wasn’t even loyal to myself.
My head wanted to dial Brendan’s number and tell his mom to have him read to her out loud—to point out the nouns and verbs in sentences, so he’d expose himself for the cheater and liar he was.
But my heart wanted to be loved.
It wanted all of us—my brain, personality, and crooked body—to be loved.
CHAPTER 13
Double Date
“Just one decision you make that seems really minor at the time can change the rest of your life,” my dad said. The way he said it, I knew this was a monumental Papa Bear Trendon quote I would hang on to for the rest of my life. I knew he was talking to Charity, since she was the one going on an actual date, but I couldn’t help applying it to myself and my inability to tell Brendan I wouldn’t write his paper for him.
“Yeah, yeah, Dad,” Charity said, rolling her eyes. “Don’t worry. You’ve got good kids.”
She tugged on my hair, pretending to mess up the hairdo Megan had spent hours helping me create. We had pulled my long, frizzy hair into a side braid, tucking the frizziest pieces behind my ear. The final result had only taken a total of three minutes, but deciding that was the one to go with had taken forever.
