The Truth About Faking

night?”
    “I’m just saying. What if there’s another explanation?”
    “Like what?” I take my hand back and cross my arms over my stomach. “She put herself in situations, in places where it looked like she did. Like she might’ve.”
    “You’re not supposed to judge things by appearances. You know that.”
    “You’re not supposed to, but you do. Everybody does. And she knows that. It’s one of Dad’s favorite sermons. Guarding your appearance.”
    Jason presses his lips together and we’re quiet. The currents keep moving, only this time I’m not soothed by the sound. This time I think of my dream and those currents pouring down my nose and my throat. Drowning me.
    “And then there’s that whole ‘try something new’ thing,” I say, starting to feel angry.
    “What?”
    “Like you were saying about being loyal and trying something new.”
    “I was talking about you and me. Your parents are completely different.” He reaches for my hand.
    I look directly in his eyes. “Oh really? Shelly’s dad wasn’t so different.”
    “I don’t know Shelly’s dad, but I know your parents. I’ve seen them together and it’s way past old or new with them. What they’ve got’s real.”
    I look down feeling my eyes getting hot. “Real,” I say softly. My chest clenches.
    He pulls me to him again. “I think you’re tired and you’re hurt,” he says. “I bet if you got some rest and maybe talked to your mom about it, you’d feel better.”
    I don’t answer. I don’t tell Jason I haven’t been able to talk to my mom about anything in what feels like a year. That she’s always too busy teaching Ricky or working with a client or dispensing herbal wisdom.
    “I don’t know.” Is all I say.
    Several minutes pass, and I realize the sounds of dogs barking and kids playing have stopped.
    “I gotta get home.” I stand and dust off my shorts. Jason stands beside me and takes my hand as we walk back to the street. I pick up my bike and glance at his car. He’s in a newish-looking Volvo tonight. “I never asked you what your dad does. I mean, to make you all Shadow Creek material.”
    “Oh,” he grins. “He’s a doctor. Psychiatrist.”
    For some reason that’s funny to me. “Oh my god,” I breathe. “What’s that like?”
    Jason shrugs. “He’s gone a lot. On call and stuff, but when Mom died, he knew all the right ‘things you’re supposed to say following the loss of a loved one.’”
    He says it in a deep, fake-formal voice, and I wrinkle my nose. “Really?”
    “Yeah. We made fun of how stupid they all were. He’s kind of a good listener, I guess.”
    I look down. “I’m sorry. My problems must seem really dumb to you.”
    “No! This isn’t dumb. It’s actually pretty serious.”
    I get on my bike and pause. “Thanks. I think you’re a good listener.”
    He smiles. “I like listening to you.”
    I study his lips. His white teeth and his smile. Then I look back at his eyes and notice his expression has changed. He steps forward and with his forefinger, he gently traces a line from my forehead down the side of my face, moving my hair back. Then his palm rests on my cheek and he leans forward and kisses me. It’s the softest thing, just his lips touching mine, but it steals my breath. It’s electric, and when he straightens back up, I’m sure he felt it too. His dark eyes are so deep.
    “’Night,” he says softly, dropping his hand.
    I nod and turn the bike toward my house. I think about Jason the whole ride back. He always makes me feel better, every time we’re together. It’s so effortless. And that kiss… I get home and I know what I have to do.
     
    But Dad’s waiting for me when I walk in the door. They both are. Mom’s in the living room with her hands on her hips and Dad’s in the kitchen holding his keys. I can’t believe it.
    “Harley!” Mom says. “Where have you been?”
    No one even noticed when I left, and the last thing I expected was them to jump on me the minute I got home.
    I’m immediately defensive. “I rode my bike down to the creek—”
    “You do not leave the house like that at night.” Her voice is angry, and it sparks the anger in me.
    “I’m surprised you even noticed!” I shout back. “All you care about these days is yourself!”
    “Harley.” Dad’s voice is low and even, and I know it means for me to get control, but I’m shaking and not sure I can. I stare at the floor, trying not to cry, as he puts his keys