The Truth About Faking

me. Or Dad.
    I watch Pocahontas glide down the hall toward his study, dark hair fanning out behind her. She goes in and closes the door. I can hear the noise of their voices, but I can’t tell what they’re saying. I stand and creep closer, hoping to make out their words. I don’t care if it’s eavesdropping. This involves me.
    “Well, I’m going to have to tell them something,” Dad says.
    “I know, but it can’t be that. I promised.”
    “So why has he been coming here at night then? Why couldn’t whatever he had to tell you wait?”
    That’s what I’d like to know.
    I hear movement. “Stuart. Do you trust me?”
    More movement. “Of course, I trust you.”
    Silence. Then Mom again.
    “Ricky’s just young and everything seems so urgent to him. Perhaps it was a little my fault, too. I told him he could call me day or night.”
    “Calling is very different from showing up here,” Dad sounds tired. “It looks like—”
    “It looks like what they’re saying is true.” Mom interrupts.
    I feel nervous, and my egg salad isn’t agreeing with my stomach.
    “Harley heard something,” Dad starts.
    “What?”
    “She overheard one of your conversations, and she didn’t understand.”
    “I’ll talk to her,” Mom says.
    “Maybe I should get her now.” I hear them moving toward the door and I jump, hurrying back to my seat in the kitchen. The door to Dad’s study opens and he follows my mom to where I’m pretending to eat lunch.
    “Harley,” he says. “Now that your mom’s here, we need to talk.”
    I nod, looking at both of them, wide-eyed.
    “There’s been a certain… development you need to know about,” he continues.
    For a second, it’s like he just started speaking Portuguese. “Development?”
    “Ms. Jackson went to Elder Bryant this morning and complained that Ricky has been, well, behaving inappropriately with your mother.”
    The spoon drops out of my hand onto the plate with a loud clatter. I jump up and tears fill my eyes. Trent’s mom went to the elders?
    “Harley,” Mom rushes over to me, but I draw back from her.
    “What did she say, Dad?”
    “I don’t know exactly what all she said,” Dad says. “But I guess Ricky’s car was here the other night—it was when her son brought you home. Do you remember that?”
    Trent told his mom? I can’t believe it. Even if he isn’t my future husband, I can’t believe he’d betray me like that.
    “Yeah,” I say. “But we didn’t come here. We went down to the creek for a little bit first.”
    “Well, I guess he told her. And I think she confronted Ricky about it yesterday at her appointment.”
    I frown, remembering what Ms. Jackson looked like yesterday. I remember what she said about being so pleased with Ricky’s hands. This doesn’t make any sense. Then I think of Ms. Jackson’s expression at the game, her nonstop staring at Ricky and Mom, and the way they were talking and laughing and touching each other, completely oblivious to how it looked. The ladies’ pow-wow last Sunday after church.
    “What did Ricky say?” I ask.
    “I don’t know, honey,” Dad says.
    “Mom?” I glare at my mother. This is all her fault. “You saw Ricky this morning. What does he say?”
    “Oh, sweetie,” Mom’s trying the honey voice on me, but it isn’t going to work. “Ricky doesn’t know anything about this. I think they had some sort of misunderstanding, and—”
    “Misunderstanding?” I interrupt. I’m so sick of all these euphemisms, these bizarre, substitute words. I know what this is about.
    “Try not to worry about it,” Mom says. “Daddy and I have to talk to the elders this evening, and we’ll all decide how to handle it.”
    “The elders are coming here?” This is serious. Dad could lose his job.
    “Just for a chat, honey. Everything’s going to be okay. Your mom hasn’t done anything wrong.”
    Avoid the appearance of evil. It’s one of Dad’s favorite sermon texts.
    “Will they ask you to step down?”
    “No,” Dad smiles. “Nothing like that. We just need to decide how to address this, if we even need to include the congregation.”
    “Include the congregation!” I can feel my face turning red. Everyone will know my mom’s been accused of doing something with her student. My mom! I want to crawl under the house and die.
    “Sweetie!” Mom tries to come to me, but I step back again. She purses her lips. “Now, Harley. This is all just some silly misunderstanding like Daddy said.