The Truth About Faking

my lip. Now I feel like a jerk.
    “I care about that stuff, too,” I say softly. “At least the car part.”
    He laughs and tugs my hair. “You mean the Gremlin?”
    “But it’s just part of the act, right? To throw people off?” I smile, hoping his confession means the monster mobile is gone for good.
    “No way! Those classic cars are the best.”
    I frown, watching him get all excited.
    “You can feel the road so much better, and the engines are way more powerful. Not so much technological interference.”
    “You’re a car geek.”
    He shrugs and looks down. “I don’t know.” Then he glances at me. “Does this mean you’re gonna stop pushing me away now?”
    I narrow my eyes at him. “I had a plan, you know. I was working on something else long before you showed up.”
    He slides the same piece of hair away from my cheek. “I know.”
    “And loyalty is very important to me.”
    “Mm-hm,” he nods. “Just so long as ‘loyalty’ isn’t another way of saying ‘fear of something new.’”
    “New isn’t always better,” I mutter.
    “Sometimes it is,” he says softly.
    I smile and start to get up.
    “Where’re you going?”
    “Home. It’s late.”
    I start walking to my bike lying near the street, and he catches up to me, taking my hand, and lacing our fingers. It feels so good.
    “Want to do something tomorrow?” he asks.
    “What about Shelly?”
    “What about Trent?”
    I shake my head. “It’s not happening. I think he’s got some other girl. He kept getting these texts that made him all… happy.”
    Jason chuckles.
    “What?” I stop and turn to him.
    “Nothing,” he says.
    Then he pulls me to him. I look up and when our eyes meet, he leans down and kisses me again. His lips are warm against mine, and I slide my hand up to touch his soft brown hair. Kissing Jason makes everything else just go away.
    I take a step back to my bike. “I gotta go.”
    “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

Twelve
     
     
    But everything goes wrong on Saturday. I get up and Mom’s left another note that says she’s meeting Ricky. She writes that it’s about a client again, but when my dad sees it, I can tell he’s annoyed. Mostly by the way he crumples it up into a tight little ball and stares out the window with his lips pressed into a line.
    Then he leaves the house without a word, and I imagine what he might do. Maybe he’ll go find her. Maybe he’ll walk right up and punch Ricky in the nose. No, I shake my head. I can’t really see Reverend Dad, King of the Nerds, doing something like that. I wish he would, though. I mean, sort of. Okay, I don’t really want him to hurt Ricky, I just want Ricky to stop trying to steal my mom.
    Jason calls, but I let it go to voicemail. I’m too worried and uneasy to talk to him right now, and I don’t want him here if there’s going to be a showdown between my parents over Ricky. Instead, I pace the house. I go and sit on the couch and try to find something on television. No luck. I go outside and poke around in the flower beds. But I never know what’s a weed and what’s one of Mom’s herbs, so I decide against gardening. I go back inside and lay on my bed, playing with my phone. I add some hairstyles and fashions to my pin boards, then I skip over to check my email. I mostly text everyone, so there’s nothing but spam in my inbox. I play Feisty Hamsters a while. Finally, I hear my dad come back.
    I go to my door and open it a crack. He walks in and goes straight to his study, so I creep out of my room and go over to his door and softly tap.
    “Yes?” he looks up from his desk. I see he’s reading that Issues book again.
    “Hi, Dad.”
    “Hey, Harley.” He looks back down, and it seems like he doesn’t want to talk to me. I don’t know what to say, but I try anyway.
    “Where’ve you been?”
    “I had to run up to the church. Some people wanted to see… me.”
    I nod and continue standing there, unsure what to say.
    Dad lowers his book and looks up at me. “Do you need something, honey?”
    I bite my lip and think about it. Then I say, “I wanted to talk to Mom about something.” It’s not exactly true, but I have to know what’s going on. “Do you know where she is?”
    He exhales. “No,” he says, and looks down at his book again.
    My shoulders droop, and I start to leave. But he stops me. “Harley?”
    “Yes?”
    “If you wouldn’t mind, I need you to stay at the house today.”
    “Why?”
    “Some people are coming