The Truth About Faking

report.
    Jason slides into the seat next to me, and Shelly reluctantly moves across in front of us to Trent’s other side. I wouldn’t have put it past her to sit beside my date if the spot weren’t already taken.
    I feel Jason nudge my arm and look down. He’s holding his hand in a position that indicates he wants me to take it. Suddenly I’m not so sure about my plan. Almost-talking to Trent just now, he seemed interested and maybe… just possibly disappointed that Jason and I are dating. What if he feels the same thing I do, that Jason does? That when you really like someone, you don’t want them dating anyone else for any length of time. But I can’t be sure.
    Then Jason reaches up and laces our fingers. I let him pull our clasped hands forward so it’s clear to everyone that we’re holding hands. I see Trent glance our way, and my heart sinks. Maybe this is all a mistake.
    The lights dim and the movie starts, but I can’t concentrate on a thing happening onscreen I’m so worried. And when it’s finally over, Jason releases me. I feel myself breathe again. Trent hasn’t touched Shelly, and I’m willing to bet this’ll be their last outing together. She doesn’t seem to mind.
    As we walk back to the lobby, I listen to everyone chatting about the film. I glance at Trent’s lavender-blue eyes, and he smiles back at me. He looks sad again, and I’m about to say something, anything, when Jason takes my arm.
    “See you guys Monday,” he says and pulls me toward the Gremlin.
    Trent turns and follows Shelly in the opposite direction.
    Back in the G-ride, Jason sounds happy. “That went really well, I think,” he says.
    “I guess.” I’m looking out the window, lost in thought.
    “Well, I think this was a great first date… first fake date… whatever.”
    “I’ve been thinking. What if I was wrong?”
    “About what?”
    “Remember how you said that about not wanting someone you like to date anyone else ever.”
    “Yeah?” His eyes flick briefly to mine, then back to the windshield.
    “What if Trent feels the same way?”
    “I don’t get you.” Jason’s voice sounds like he really does get me, but he’s stalling.
    I turn in my seat to face him. “What if all this fake dating is a bad idea and it ends up pushing Trent to date some other girl?”
    “You mean like Shelly?”
    “Well, no. Shelly would obviously rather date you.”
    He laughs at that. “She’s a trip.”
    “Mm-hm,” I agree, but I’m still thinking about Trent’s sad little smile.
    “So how’d a tame preacher’s kid get to be best friends with her?”
    “What do you mean?”
    “I mean she knows her way around the field. I think she grabbed my ass on the way into the theater.”
    “I’m sure she did,” I sigh. “We’ve been friends since kindergarten. And she wasn’t always like that.”
    “Interesting. I’m really impressed with your tolerance for her stunts. I guess that’s part of those Fruits of the Spirit. Patience?”
    He grins at me, and I squint back. “So you have been in a church before.”
    “I don’t mind going to church. It’s just been… different lately. And we’re new here.”
    “Well, Shelly doesn’t mean to be a jerk. She really is a good friend. She’s just… her parents got divorced last summer and it tends to cloud her judgment sometimes.”
    “No shit,” he says.
    “And seriously with the language. I’m not getting grounded over some fake boyfriend’s mouth.”
    “Okay, okay,” he laughs.
    We’re almost at my house, and when we reach the stop sign on the corner, I notice a car parked just ahead. It’s a familiar car—it’s Ricky’s! Why is he at my house?
    I grab the door handle and jump out of the Gremlin while it’s still stopped.
    “Harley!” I hear Jason yell. “What are you doing? I’ll drive you home.”
    “That’s okay,” I say, slamming the squeaky, poppy door. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
    I run the half-block to my house and then dash up the walk. I notice Dad’s Prius is still gone as I fly through the door, and I have no idea what to expect inside. But whatever it is, I’m about to bust it up. I’m surprised when I find the living room and kitchen dark and empty. Voices are coming from Mom’s office, and I jog on tip-toes over to it, leaning my head toward the door.
    “You just have to be patient.” Mom’s saying. “Things have a way of working themselves out.”
    “You say that, but it’s hard to believe.” Ricky’s