The Truth About Faking

game.”
    Just then Ricky walks up.
    “Hey, Harley,” he smiles.
    “Hey,” I say. I’m not so glad to see him, even if it does appear he’s moved on from chasing married women to chasing divorcées.
    “Is your mom by herself?” he asks, frowning. Then again, maybe I’m wrong.
    “Dad couldn’t make it,” I say. “But he comes to all the football games when I cheer.”
    “I’m sure.” He turns and goes to where Mom’s sitting alone in the bleachers. I watch her face brighten, and she smiles at him as he climbs up to meet her.
    “Well, I have to get back,” I say to Trent. “See you after the game?”
    “We might not stay til the end,” he says.
    “Oh. Well, tomorrow then?”
    “Yep.” He smiles, and I look at his sweet lips. Tomorrow I’ll get to find out what it’s like to kiss them. Go, Panthers!
    Trent walks to where his mother’s sitting on the far end alone with a super-annoyed look on her face. I follow her eyes and wince. Ricky’s parked right next to my mom, and the two are just chatting away oblivious to how they appear. Mom laughs and covers her eyes, and Ricky grabs her arm and shakes it. Wrinkles or not, I’m frowning as I clap my poms together. They look like two teenagers on a date. And right here in front of everybody! I can’t believe it.
    My eyes drift to Jason, who’s still watching me. I only glance at him once, but I can see he isn’t smiling either. He actually looks concerned. I just shake my head at him and turn back to the game.
    After our half-time show, Mom and Ricky finally break it up, and he helps her down the wobbly bleachers. At the bottom he says something to her, and she smiles and squeezes his arm. Then she turns and walks to me. Trent and his mom are also collecting their things, and I recognize the look on Mrs. Jackson’s face—like she wants to jerk Mom’s ponytail. I could die.
    Mom doesn’t notice any of it, as usual. She combs a stray hair back from my face with her fingers. “Would you mind if I leave now?” she asks. “Those bleachers are killer on my back.”
    I’m still frowning, but I nod. “I’ll come straight home,” I say, just in case she’s planning on having a visitor.
    “I’ll probably be in bed,” she smiles, then she kisses my cheek.
     
    I catch a ride home with Shelly and Jason after the game. I don’t really want to, but Jason insists, and now that he has a nice, four-door Passat, how can I refuse? The whole ride I’m completely distracted thinking about Mom and Ricky and Ms. Jackson’s face.
    “You sure you don’t want to go out with us?” Jason says to me. “We’re meeting up with a gang at the Shadow Freeze.”
    I can feel the tension in the car rise as Shelly holds her breath waiting for my answer.
    “No. I’m going home,” I say, and I hear my best friend exhale.
    “You guys looked great out there,” Jason says. Our eyes meet in the rearview mirror, but I look out the window again. I can only deal with one problem at a time.
    “You’ll have to come when I’m cheering,” Shelly says.
    “Yeah. That’s like next Friday, isn’t it?” I try to back her up.
    “Yep,” she says.
    “Okay,” Jason sounds vague.
    Thankfully when we get to my house, everything looks normal. I go inside and Mom’s still up. Dad’s in their bedroom.
    “Did we win?” she asks when I walk inside.
    “Yeah,” I say. I look at her sitting on the couch with a book like it’s been the most normal evening.
    “You did a great job tonight,” she smiles at me.
    “I guess.” I drop onto the sofa. “I’m not really the best cheerleader.”
    She grins and pinches my cheek. “Well, you’re definitely the cutest.”
    “Stop,” I push her hand back. She laughs, but I’m not in the mood.
    “So you and Ricky seemed to have a nice time chatting,” I say, watching her face.
    “Oh.” She looks back at her book. “He just had some questions about one of my clients,” she says.
    “Ms. Jackson?”
    Her eyes meet mine, and she smiles. “It was just something unexpected came up and he wanted my advice.”
    I’ve got the feeling it was more than that, but I don’t know what else to ask. We’re quiet as she read another page. Then she closes the book and sits up.
    “You have a date with Trent tomorrow?” she asks.
    “Yep,” I say.
    She nods and for a moment I get that feeling again, like there’s more she wants to say. But she doesn’t. “Well, I’m tired. I think I’ll go to bed now that you’re