The Truth About Faking (2 page)

“
Whatever,” she says. “This time it’s about how
Mr. Right
is a myth.”

A big hydrangea bush is growing where my street meets Shadow Falls Lane, and today it’s bursting with bluish-lavender blossoms. As Shelly talks, I gaze at the huge fists of flowers and realize they’re the exact same shade as Trent Jackson’s eyes. He’s my non-mythical Mr. Right, hottie future-husband. Well, I’m still working on that last part.

Last year, sophomore year, Trent started at Creekside High School and literally stopped every girl in her tracks. Unfortunately for me, I had no chance with him. My legs went up to my armpits, and when I smiled, you had to put on your sunglasses to block the reflection off my braces. But over the summer the braces came off, and my body got more proportional.

And Stephanie Miller got Trent.

A frown touches my lips, and I turn into my driveway just in time to hear Shelly’s last words. “…put you through assertiveness training.”

I jump. “What?” My name coupled with
assertiveness training
can
not
be a good thing.

“
It’s the whole reason he dated Stephanie all last fall and not you. Brian says he asked about you in August, and he watches you constantly—”

“
Stop!
Who
asked about me in August?”

“
Trent.” She says it like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

I almost drop my phone.

I can’t swallow. It’s possible I’m having one of those mini-strokes. “Oh my god, Shelly. What did he say? Tell me his exact words.”

 “
You know, ‘What is she like,’ that kind of thing.” Her casual tone is giving me chest pains. Maybe I’m having a heart attack. “With your dad being a reverend and all, guys don’t know what to expect.”

I shake my head. I’m sitting in my driveway and I cannot move. I’m completely paralyzed. Maybe it is a mini-stroke.

“
What did Brian say?” I ask, trying to restart my breathing.

“
I don’t know,” she says. “That’s not the point.”

“
Shelly!”

“
Oh my god! Chill. I’m sure it was all good things, you know Brian. But I’m even
more
sure Trent would’ve asked you out then.”

My head is spinning, and the wreck, everything is forgotten. August? That was right after he saved me at the gym… we could be engaged right now. Okay, maybe not engaged. But promised?

“…
of course, Stephanie came along and just swooped him right up.” She pauses, waiting, but I’m imagining my wedding dress. It’ll be white, of course, and floor-length. And with a lavender-blue sash to match his eyes. I’ll wear my hair in a French braid. Maybe one of those four-stranded braids or an around-the-head, crown style…

“
And
that’s
my point,” Shelly breathes loudly. “You’re always so distracted and aloof, it makes guys think you’re not interested.”

“
I am not aloof! I can’t believe you’re just now telling me this!”

“
I’m telling you this because it’s part of my great plan! Although I don’t like encouraging obsessions-”

“
Obsessions?”

“
You’ve spent way too much mental energy on this guy. All last year it was nothing. Then he dates Stephanie six months, and you’re still crushing on him. You’re fixated.”

“
I am not fixated, and he just broke up with Stephanie. And clearly it could’ve been something, only you chose not to tell me.”

“
Like it would’ve made a difference.”

“
It might’ve.” I’m finally able to move again, so I grab my bag off the passenger’s seat and pull the keys from the ignition. I hop down and slam the door shut.

“
Look, I didn’t call to argue,” Shelly continues. “I called to tell you I’ve decided to help you.”

“
Help me? How?”

 “
You never listen—with assertiveness training! I’ve observed your behavior. And whenever you’re confronted with a guy you like, you freak and become closed.”

“
Is
freak
the clinical term?”

“
I’m going to help you open up and Break the Cycle!”

That’s probably the title of her mom’s new book.

“
Well, I’ve kind of been working on a plan already—” I smile at how Operation Luau is
so
in the bag now.

“
First we have to set your goal,” she interrupts. “What is your goal?”

“
What?” I grunt as I climb over the backseat to get my dress now that the back doors are jammed shut. I drop back to the driveway and shake it out as I walk inside.

“
Dating Trent? Making out with Trent? Marrying Trent?”

“
Well, I wouldn’t say marrying Trent,” I lie. “That’s silly!”

“
So making out with Trent.”

A million butterflies take off in my stomach at the thought of kissing him. “That sounds like a good goal.”

“
OK, then. You’re going to model my behavior, and by the end of the week, we’ll have you at the Spring Luau with Trent.”

“
Model
your
behavior?” I ask, but she keeps talking.

“
After which, the two of you will proceed to an intense make-out session.”

“
Shelly!” My butterflies just had babies at that thought. “But I don’t know.” I balance the phone on my shoulder as I open my door. “I mean, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to you know. Model you.”

“
What’s that supposed to mean?” She acts offended, but she knows it’s the truth.

Ever since her parents’ split, it’s been really hard keeping up with Shelly. Last summer she went off the charts, dumping Brian, who’d been her boyfriend since middle school. Now she’s been jumping from guy to guy like she’s trying to set some Creekside record for most males bagged in a single year. She’s starting to get a rep, and it’s been taking all my creative efforts to keep it from my parents. That part kind of pisses me off. She knows how I feel about not embarrassing Dad. I hurry to the next problem as I drop all my stuff on my bed.

“
And I’m not sure you’re right about Trent picking me over Stephanie. I mean, seriously. Steph’s a senior, she’s cheer captain, she’s got that long brown hair and… well… it all came together for her.”

“
I am your best friend, Harley.” Her voice is suddenly serious. “I will not let you be intimidated by Stephanie Miller’s boobs.”

“
Oh my god, I’m not intimidated by her boobs.”

Still, it really isn’t fair that Stephanie’s never had an awkward phase as long as I’ve known her. She sailed straight from being the cutest little elementary school kid to being the first girl in middle school to—okay, get her boobs—all without even breaking a sweat. And she’s not very nice about it either. My nose wrinkles.

“
Besides, you’re a cheerleader now,” Shelly continues.

“
Only because Trish got mono and had to drop out.”

I’m literally the worst cheerleader. But I’ve got decent legs and blonde hair, and I can yell really loud—
Go Panthers!
 

“
We’ve got to teach you another jump besides The Banana. You look like a dork just jumping up and arching your back like that.”

“
Thanks,” I frown, remembering how humiliated I’d been at tryouts last summer. Of course, it all led to my life-saving encounter with Trent—that day at the gym when our love became real. For me at least.

“
Gotta run,” Shelly’s saying. “But I’ll strategize more tonight.”

Great.
“See you in the morning.” I toss my phone on my bed next to all the rest of my stuff. Then I exhale and flop in the middle of it all, remembering…

It all started last summer
at cheerleading tryouts. I don’t count sophomore year when I was completely invisible—at least I hope I was. No, it was a week before school started, and I’d just gotten my braces off. Shelly’d insisted I tryout with her, so we were all at the gym. The boys—Trent included—had been playing basketball on the half-court until Coach Taylor sent them outside. They’d pretended to be pissed, but we knew they were really there checking out the new recruits.

My turn went okay. I did some easy cheers, and then came the jumps portion. I did The Banana, and Stephanie nearly squirted cherry Icee through her nose. Meg leaned over and giggled, “What was
that
?” under her breath, and Stephanie’d shouted “Next!” like it’d been some sort of Broadway show from which I’d just been cut.

I kept my head down as I walked off the court, hoping my ponytail would hide my burning cheeks. I bit my lip, doing my best not to cry. Usually I’m not so weak, but that’d been about as humiliating as my stupid non-jump. I sat on the metal bleachers staring at my shoes until finally I grabbed my bag and decided to leave. I’d just opened the metal door when
Wham!

Next thing I knew, I was laying on the ground with my head in somebody’s lap. A voice was saying something, and my eyes flickered open. The sun was shining right in my face, and the first thing I was able to make out was… lavender. Trent’s head was inches from mine. My stomach flipped, and I bumped our noses as I tried to sit up.

“
Hey,” he laughed, leaning back. “Harley, right? Can you stand up?”

“
What?” I tried to stand, but my head felt like I’d run into a brick wall. I caught his shoulder. It felt really nice and firm.

“
You ran into a brick wall,” he said. “Sort of. David had just thrown the ball, and I missed it. It kind of knocked you out.”

I reached up to touch my forehead, and as he helped me up, my face went into his chest where I caught a deep breath of the woodsy boy-smell coming off him. For a head injury, this could be worse.

“
I was knocked out?” I timidly looked up at him, and he smiled.

The sun was shining all golden behind his head, and it made him look like a knight. Or one of those hot angels. Just then Shelly came outside.

“
There you are. Sorry, just got my—what happened?”

“
Basketball hit her in the head,” Trent said.

I wanted to die.
What a dork!

“
I think she hit her head on the wall,” he continued. “She might need to go to Urgent Care.”

“
Oh my god!” Shelly cried. “Bring her inside. I’ll get Coach Taylor.”

“
I’m okay,” I said. My knees were wobbly, but I couldn’t tell if it was my head or Trent’s arm tight around my waist. He was holding my hand even.

Shelly held the metal door open, and next thing I knew, David had joined us.

“
Hey, Harley, I’m really sorry.” He caught my other arm, and I felt Trent’s grip loosen. His dark head was in the shadow of the gym, and he was definitely not an angel.
Go away, David.

“
It’s okay,” I said, trying to smile and scoot back toward Trent. “Really, I’m fine.”

“
I can drive her to the doctor,” Shelly said. I tried to give her my most discouraging look. Just then Stephanie joined the mob.

“
What’s up? Harley? Are you okay?”

“
We’re taking her to Coach Taylor,” Shelly said.

“
What happened?”

“
Harley might have a concussion,” David said like it was the most exciting thing to happen all summer.

David was distracted by Stephanie, and I leaned on Trent’s arm. He caught my waist again and smiled, and everything turned perfect. The humiliation of tryouts, the humiliation of being beaned in the head with a basketball, none of it mattered as I stood there with Trent’s arm tight around me. Until Coach Taylor showed up and ruined it. She took me away and led me to the bleachers. Then she started shining her tiny flashlight in my eyes.

“
Do you feel sleepy? Like you might vomit?”

Nice
. I shook my head, and David started bouncing the dumb ball again. Coach Taylor shouted for all the boys to get back outside and told me to sit where she could keep her eye on me. I watched the guys leave, and just as Trent was going through the door, he stopped and glanced back. It was because he wanted to stay with me, I was sure, and I tried to catch his eye. David shoved him through the opening before he saw me, and I sighed, turning back to the court. Stephanie was watching, but she quickly flicked her attention back to her sheet and called the next name.

As I rested on the bleachers, everything felt sort of soft and glowy. It seemed like music was playing somewhere—and not because of my head injury. It was because I knew Trent was The One, my hero. I tried to remember if I’d thanked him, but it didn’t matter. I was sure he’d ask me out.

A week later we all started junior year, and the next time I saw Trent, he was walking down the hall holding hands with Stephanie.

I press my lips together and come back to the present. Stephanie dumped Trent right after the Valentine’s dance last month (so cold!), and ever since I’ve been waiting, carefully planning my approach.

Operation Luau begins with me giving him time to get over her. It also involves observation and strategic moves. Trent and I have the same algebra teacher this year, only at different times, so every day I’ve been running straight to class after second period and “accidentally” bumping into him as he leaves. He always holds the door for me, and then I smile, and then he smiles. Sometimes he asks about my head and we laugh, although I wish we could forget that part.

I’ve also been observing his taste when it comes to girls, and I’ve noted he has a picture of this blonde actress in his locker with her hair all braided in some Greek-goddess way. She’s also wearing this long, white gown that would never work at school, although prom is a definite possibility. Response: I’ve been sporting fancy braid-designs in my hair every day for a month, and I just bought the perfect dress—it’s flowy, but short and blue to match my eyes (bonus!). And here we are.