The Truth About Faking

ex-boyfriend? Just because she doesn’t want to go out with him anymore doesn’t mean I can’t. He might not be right for her, but she’s not the Queen of the World. Whatever. At least now I don’t have to worry about being home alone Friday night.
     
    “So it all worked out!” Shelly’s beaming as I get into her car the next morning.
    “What?”
    “You’re going out with Trent on Saturday and Stephanie says you’re cheering for Robin on Friday!”
    “Wow. News travels fast.” I pull the visor down to check my face in the mirror.
    “Steph called me first about Friday, but I told her to check with you and call me back.”
    “Thanks,” I say, raising my eyebrows. Mom’s health magazine said frowning causes premature aging.
    “Harley! I knew you didn’t have plans Friday, and I was hoping to be doing something with Jason.”
    “And are you?”
    “Yesss! We’re going to the game first and then after that, who cares! Sin City?”
    “Shelly.” For some reason, the thought of her being sinful with Jason makes me miserable. Which is ridiculous, since I don’t care what Jason does now. Because he’s just an irritant to me. That’s all.
    “He is so hot. I cannot wait til Friday. I can tell he’s the best kisser.”
    I close the visor and look out the window. It doesn’t matter what kind of a kisser Jason is.
    Shelly glances at me. “So you’ll have to let me know.”
    “Know what?” I look back, trying not to frown.
    “What you think about Trent. You know, after your date Saturday.”
    “What do you mean, what I think about him?”
    “I’m just saying. He was a total cold fish with me. I’m wondering if he gives you the same treatment.”
    “You know, he could just be slow to warm up.” I think about how Trent is always polite. A perfect gentleman.
    “Maybe.” Shelly purses her lips and makes the turn into school. “But I’ve never had any problem warming guys up.”
    “You can be a bit much, you know.”
    She smiles and slants her eyes. “That’s just your daddy talking.”
    “My dad would flip out if he heard you half the time.”
    “Which is why he doesn’t. Ooo, lookie there. Yum!”
    Jason’s leaning against the Passat again, and the truth is, he does look good. Possibly even yum. But none of that matters to me now. He’s in the past, a problem I don’t have to think about anymore. Except for how I can totally predict his moves. Like for example, as I said, I had to ride around in the Gremlin and Shelly gets the luxury car. I get out and slam the door, walking straight to homeroom. I hear some remark directed at me, but I don’t turn around. I’m not even interested in hearing his voice today.
    And by third period, I realize I can’t stand to sit next to him for an entire hour. It’s simply too irritating. Or something. I wonder if I can do a quick visit to the nurse. Then I could just hang out in the library during lunch. Or the bathroom… I can’t believe Crash Boy is forcing me to hide out at my own school. Aren’t I lucky he came along and ruined my life ten days ago? God, has it only been ten days? Life changes so fast.
     
    I manage to make it through the end of the week and Friday’s the game. We all have to wear our cheerleading uniforms to school when there’s a home game, and I have to stay after to help make the signs and get the gym ready for tonight. Cheerleading’s as much a job as a sport.
    My neck’s still feeling stiff from the crash, and as I stand in front of my locker, I practice some of Mom’s stretching exercises. I don’t have to hurry to get to algebra now that Trent and I are going out, so I take a minute to close my eyes and lean my head to one side. I’m still stretching when two hands slid up my shoulders and started massaging my neck.
    “Better?” Jason whispers in my ear.
    Tingles race down my back. I jump forward and start grabbing my books. “Thanks. You don’t have to do that.”
    “I don’t mind. If it helps you feel better.” He’s standing too close to me, and his warm hands are still on my shoulders, making my heart beat faster. I’m trying to convince myself it’s anger, but I’ve never felt this way angry.
    “It’s your fault, you know.”
    “What?” I hear him frown. “Why?”
    “My neck’s been hurting ever since the wreck.”
    “I’m sorry.” He slides my hair to one side, and I feel his soft breath behind my ear just before his lips touch my skin. A sizzling charge shoots from my shoulder