The Truth About Faking

he’s angry.
    “Jason…”
    But he won’t look back. He goes to his car and gets in, and I watch as he drives away. It hurts. He’s never acted this way toward me, and for a minute, I fight the desire to call him and say I’ve changed my mind.
    But I can’t do that. I’ve got to give Trent another chance. I just do.
     
    All week it’s like I’m living out my Trent fantasy. He meets me every day before algebra, and every time he seems happier to see me. I round the corner for class to find his sweet, smiling face leaning against the lockers, and I walk over to have one of our interactions. I don’t really call them conversations since they mostly consist of us smiling and looking at each other. It might not be witty banter, but it’s a definite leap forward.
    Jason avoids me as much as possible. I only see him in class, but even then he simply says hello and then focuses on his books or the lecture. It hurts to have him act that way, but I’ve decided it’s for the best. I’m dating Trent now and everyone knows it. Soon he’ll ask me to prom and then he’ll give me his class ring, and eventually all that stuff with Jason’ll just be a memory of a crazy night when I went off the radar. Like one of those lost weekends or something.
    That’s another thing. Dating someone who crashes into you and then causes you to act out of character is clearly a sign of emotional turmoil. Now that Trent and I are together, I’ve broken the cycle. I’m being both smart and assertive, and I’m no longer so easily distracted.
    But while my personal life is getting on track, things at home have been strained between my parents. Ricky and Mom’s flirty huddle in the gym at the basketball game was the icing on the cake for the gossipy church ladies. And that little pow-wow on the lawn Sunday caused a bit of friction between Mom and Dad. Understandably, if you ask me. I keep waiting for Dad to lay down the law—no more late-night visits from Mr. Men’s Health . But he never does.
    So the Ricky thing is not over and my anxiety has grown worse now that I know Mrs. Perkins is watching. And waiting. Ricky continues coming over every morning, and he and Mom continue their alternate schedule. Ricky takes the afternoon appointments, which includes Ms. Jackson, and every time I see him, he asks how Mom’s doing. I wish he’d get over her and move on to Trent’s mom already. If he showed her just a fraction of the affection he shows my mom, she’d probably back off. But maybe Ms. Jackson is like her son. Maybe she moves slower and wants Ricky to make the first move. Maybe that’s why she’s divorced—much like Trent had been dumped by Stephanie. Not everyone is as patient as I am.
    Friday morning, I’m dashing out the door when I remember to ask Mom for the Denali. Ricky’s waiting when I return to grab my bag.
    “Got your wheels back, biker girl?”
    “Mom’s wheels, but yeah. I’m picking up Trent this evening. Maybe I’ll see you at his house.”
    Ricky gives me a strange look. “You’re going out with Trent again?”
    “Yeah. Why?”
    “I thought you were all into the crash boy now.”
    I can’t believe Ricky’s keeping up with my dating habits. Why is he always trying to be my dad?
    “I just went out with Jason a few times. Trent’s my guy.”
    “Right,” Ricky seems distracted. “Well, see you later then.”
     
    Sure enough, Ricky’s still at the Jackson house when I get there. He’s unusually preoccupied and doesn’t even make a comment about my corn silk hair or the fact that I’m wearing one of those dresses he says guys love. Not that I mind or anything, but it does make me wonder. Maybe he is nervous like Mom said. But why?
    He’s all business as Ms. Jackson leads me into the kitchen to wait for Trent, and when she goes over to Ricky, I see him tense. But he tries to hide it.
    “Hi, Sandra,” he says, smiling.
    “Ricky,” she oozes, and I realize Ms. Jackson is not at all like her son. She’s more like Shelly. Hoping for a happy ending.
    Ms. Jackson says she’s going to change as Trent comes in and starts rambling around. He smiles when he sees Ricky and me, and he seems comfortable around the target of his mom’s affection. I guess if your parents are divorced, you don’t mind the idea of your mom being overly friendly with other men.
    “Hey, Ricky,” he says brightly.
    “How’s it going,” Ricky walks over to where Trent’s standing, and I watch as Trent reaches into