The Truth About Faking

school?”
    “Sure! It’s a classic.” He drops back in his seat and cranks his window down. “You won’t believe how great she’ll look with a new coat of paint and some minor adjustments.”
    “It’ll take more than that.” I lean forward and grab the handle on my own window. “Are you sure we’ll even make it to my house?”
    “Have a little faith,” he grins at me. “There’s a six-cylinder engine under that hood.”
    “You lost me.”
    “Back in the 70s, when it came out, the big selling point was the Gremlin’s got a six-cylinder engine. The Pinto’s only got four.” I watch as he turns the key and then leans forward, listening.
    “Are you going to pick me up in a Pinto next?”
    “No way.” He taps the dash. “You’re not listening. This has six cylinders compared to the Pinto’s four!”
    “Jason, I hate to tell you. Nobody cares.” I lean forward trying to find a place for my bag. This car is ridiculous.
    “I care. It’s got more power, it’s faster, heavier-”
    “You’re planning to ram somebody new?”
    “That was purely accidental. Totaled my old Charger, though. I hated letting that one go. But it was time, I guess.”
    I look out the window and wonder who all’s going to see me in this hooptie. Then I remember what I’ve been waiting to ask him all day.
    “So how is it you twisted hitting me with your car into saving my life?”
    “Huh?” he looks confused.
    “All day long you’ve been going on about saving my life.” I’m holding my hair back against the wind. “How’d you manage that rewrite of history?”
    “Oh, well, I really did save it.”
    “Uh huh. Explain.”
    “I was probably going like 45 miles per hour when I looked up and realized you weren’t moving. If I hadn’t hit the brakes as hard as I could, I’dve probably knocked you into oncoming traffic.”
    “That’s comforting.” Now I wish my seatbelt had a shoulder strap.
    “Yeah, it could’ve been bad.”
    I can tell he’s embarrassed, and I look out the open window trying to think of a way to ease the sudden awkwardness in the car.
    “It would’ve been Bender in the traffic, not me.”
    “Yeah, who is that guy? Ex-Marine?”
    “How’d you guess?”
    “I could tell by the hair and the super-starched clothes,” he says. “We have a lot of those where I’m from.”
    We’re almost at my house when I realize Mom might see me getting out of this strange car and with some strange guy.
    “Maybe we should stop here,” I say, reaching for my bag.
    “Why?”
    “Well, talking to Shelly today, I realized I hadn’t thought through why we were dating all of a sudden.”
    “After all your efforts with Trent?” He grins at me, and I glance up at his smile, the wind pushing his golden brown hair in his face. Maybe I should go with Shelly’s assumption and let everyone think I decided Jason was cuter. Everyone who doesn’t know me, that is. No, my mind never changes that fast.
    “And my parents don’t know you, so I’m sure they’ll ask a bunch of questions.” I pull my bag onto my lap. “I don’t like lying to them.”
    “What about Friday?”
    “Friday?”
    “The luau? I’m your date.”
    “Oh, right. I guess you’re right. Nevermind, then.”
    He keeps driving and stops in front of my house.
    “Thanks for the ride,” I say, hesitating before I climb out. “Hey, I was just wondering. Why did you move here anyway?”
    He pauses for a moment. “Well, Dad’s from Glennville…” Then he glances down and his voice grows quieter. “After Mom died, he wanted to get closer to home.”
    For a moment I don’t know what to say. That is not that answer I expected. “I’m… sorry.”
    He smiles back at me, but this time there’s less sunshine. “S’okay,” he shrugs. “She had cancer, so we had a lot of time to prepare for it. Say our good-byes and all.”
    “Still… I guess…” As I struggle for the right words, I imagine losing Pocahontas and my chest gets tight. “That must’ve been hard.”
    “Yeah. It’s been fifteen months, but Dad and I are bouncing back.” Jason tries another smile, but I’m still not convinced.
    I pull the handle to get out. The door creaks and makes that popping sound again. There’s no way I’m hiding this one.
    “Tomorrow morning, then?” he asks.
    “Sure.” I smile back, feeling a little softer toward him. He really is easy to talk to.
    “Bye, Jas.”
    “Bye, H.D.”
    I’m still thinking about what Jason told me when