The Truth About Faking

to let him know I’m available. I didn’t hear from him Saturday, and when I called yesterday, he seemed distracted. I figure I can drop some hints when we get to school.”
    I remember my weird Friday thing with Trent and bite my lip. I’m planning to explain that to Jason—and Trent, too, for that matter. It is not a date. I did not agree to go out with him. For whatever reason Trent needs to talk to me about something, and I guess I sort of said I’d listen. Now I can’t remember how it happened exactly. It was all so fast, and I was still getting over that bizarre church service.
    “You really think it’s getting serious?” I ask. At some point she’ll have to know about Jason and me.
    “Well, so far we’ve had great chemistry.”
    I look out the window. I’m sure Shelly’s doing her best to make that last statement true. What’ll she say when I suddenly turn up with him? Maybe she’ll give me another “assertiveness-pass”? For modeling her behavior? I bite my lip at the thought. Doubtful. I’m doing unto her what she’s done unto me, and I know from experience it sucks. Things have gotten seriously mixed up.
    At school, I can’t decide who I should track down first, Jason or Trent. I see the Passat’s already parked in Jason’s space, and I wonder if the monster mobile’s permanently retired.
    “Still no Gremlin?” I ask.
    “I think he says it’s coming back this week. But I might have to flatten the tires.”
    I smile, thinking about our conversation Friday night. “He really likes that car,” I say softly.
    “I know. He’s such a freak! Oh, well. I guess you have to overlook some flaws, right?”
    I glance at her, thinking how his car-love is such a cute flaw, and she trots off in the direction of the building. I watch her go as I slowly walk toward the start of the week. I need to find Jason soon. And Trent. I have to clear up what’s actually happening and explain it to Jason so he’ll understand. I’d text him, but I need to see his face and be sure he doesn’t read this wrong. I take a breath to calm myself. I can fix this.
     
    But by the end of second period, I’ve almost decided to go to the nurse’s office instead of algebra. I haven’t seen Jason or Trent all day, and I’m feeling more and more queasy as I approach Mrs. Gipson’s room. On top of all that, No one’s said anything about the situation with my mom.
    I jump into the bathroom to get my nerves under control before algebra, and of all people, there’s Stephanie Miller. She glances at me as I stare in the mirror, wondering if I can fake a fever.
    “Sorry about your mom. That must suck.” she says between lip gloss swipes. “But at least Ricky’s hot.”
    I glare at her. “It’s not true.”
    She doesn’t turn her head. She just continues smoothing her long brown hair behind her shoulders. “Well, it is hard to believe. I mean, your dad’s a reverend and all, but your mom still looks at him like…”
    Like he’s a chocolate-dipped strawberry. I turn back to the mirror.
    “So you’re going out with Trent again Friday?” I jump, but Stephanie’s looking at me now like she really cares about my answer. How does she know? And if she knows…
    “No. Well, sort of.”
    “Sort of?” She fixes her take-charge, head-cheerleader brown eyes on me. “So are you his new girlfriend or what?”
    “No. Why would you say that?”
    “I’m just saying how it looks.” She studies me a second longer, and then spins toward the door. “See ya, Harley.”
    I lean forward and press my head against the mirror. Now I’m truly freaking out. I’ve got to find Trent and set the record straight. I’ve got to find Jason and explain what happened. And I’m about to get a tardy.
    I take a deep breath and start for Mrs. Gipson’s class. My throat grows tighter with every step I take closer. Just then Trent steps out. I jump and make a little yip! He’s holding a plastic bag filled with tiny yellow and white flowers and a damp paper towel.
    “Hey, I’ve been waiting for you,” he says.
    “I didn’t know,” I say, catching my breath.
    “I thought you might like these.” He smiles. I take the tiny bouquet but don’t meet his eyes.
    “It’s honeysuckle,” he says. “We have some growing along the fence at my house, and I thought of you.”
    “You did?” I frown, looking up at him. Why is he doing this? This is why everyone’s so confused. Including me.
    He shrugs and does a little smile.