“I was joking,” I say.
“Oh.” Lexi crosses out what she just wrote, and then, thinking better of it, pulls the top sheet off her pad and crumples it up into a ball.
“It’s hopeless,” I tell her, dropping my head onto the table. “Just hopeless.” What is wrong with me? Have I not learned my lesson? Maybe I should just tell everyone the truth. Luke will break up with me, Kim and Bailey will laugh behind my back, but at least my life will be less complicated. A nice, completely normal, uncomplicated life. That sounds very nice.
“Hey,” Lexi says, looking over my shoulder. “Isn’t that your dad?”
I turn around and see my dad coming into the coffee shop. “Finally,” I say, standing up. My mom must have gotten tied up doing something for work, and sent my dad to get me instead.
“Dad,” I start to call, but then I stop. Because behind him is a tall blond woman wearing a business suit and carrying a briefcase. A tall blond woman who follows my dad up to the counter and orders a latte. A tall blond woman who then sits with my dad at a table. A tall blond woman who makes Lexi go, “uh-oh,” under her breath. A tall blond woman who is definitely not my mother.
“Devon, you can’t jump to conclusions,” Mel says. It’s later that night, and I’m sitting on her bed, cross-legged. Lexi’s there too, on the floor, flipping through a magazine.
“Mel, he was at a coffee shop with another woman,” I tell her. I lean over the bed and pull the hair tie out of my hair, letting it brush against the floor, all the blood rushing to my head.
After Lexi and I spotted my dad with the mystery woman, we tried to get close to where they were sitting, and I swear I overheard my dad say “when we move.” Hello! He’s planning on moving in with this woman! Will I have to go too? Will I have to switch schools? What will my mom do? Where will Katie live?
Lexi and I laid low, and finally, they left. About five minutes later my mom pulled up in front of the coffee shop. Apparently, she thought my dad was supposed to pick me up, which was why she was late. I didn’t have the heart to tell her what I saw.
“Maybe he meant ‘when we move tables’ or something,” Mel offers.
“Maybe,” I say, flipping myself back over. I look over at Lexi. “Did it seem like that’s what he meant?”
“No,” she says, still paging through the magazine.
“Ugh,” I say. My head feels all wobbly. I can’t tell if it’s because of my dad or because I was hanging upside down.
“This isn’t that big of a deal.” Lexi shrugs. “I mean, affairs happen. It’s totes the hip thing these days.”
“Totes?” Mel asks, confused.
“It means ‘totally,’” I explain. “Anyway, I don’t care if it’s the new hip thing, my dad might be cheating on my mom!”
“And would that really be the end of the world?” Lexi asks. She takes a sip from her diet Coke. “Remember this summer when your parents were having problems and they felt so guilty about it that they sent you away to be with your grandma?”
“Yes!” I say. “It was awful.”
“But you had all those cute clothes,” Lexi points out. I stare at her blankly. Is she really saying that it will be okay if my parents are having problems because at least I will have cute clothes? She flips another page in the magazine. “Ooh,” she says, holding it up to show us, “I told you skinny jeans aren’t just a fad!” Apparently she is.
“My life is a mess,” I say. I tick the reasons off on my fingers. “One, my parents are maybe possibly getting divorced. Two, Luke has not asked me to the dance. Three, Bailey Barelli is demanding I bring my fake boyfriend to her stupid, dumb boy/girl party that I don’t even want to go to.” A piece of my Passion Plum nail polish flakes off and lands on my fingertip. “And now my manicure is ruined.”
“Here,” Lexi says, pulling a free sample of perfume out of the magazine she’s reading. “You can have the free sample.” She generously sets it down on the bed next to me.
“Thanks,” I say. I open it up, and a flowery scent fills the room. I rub some on my wrists and all over my neck, but it doesn’t make me feel better. How did everything become so complicated? I thought my parents were getting back on track. They were seeing Dr. Meyerson, they were working on their harsh tones . . . why would my dad do something like this?
“Hey,” Mel says, sitting down on the bed next to me. “I’m sure that it’s nothing.”
“You are?” I search her face for any kind of insincerity, any clue that she’s just saying this to make me feel better.
“Definitely,” she says. “That woman was probably just someone from your dad’s work.”
“You think?”
“Totally,” Mel says. “You just need to talk to him about it, and then you’ll feel better.”
“Now let’s work on your fake boyfriend issue!” Lexi says excitedly. I sigh. That seems pretty unimportant now in the grand scheme of things.
“The fake boyfriend issue,” Mel says. “Is actually pretty easy to fix.”
“It is?” I ask, interested in spite of myself.
“Yes,” Mel says. “Because you’re both missing something here.”
“The fact that Devi should have learned her lesson about fake boyfriends?” Lexi asks.
“No,” Mel says.
“The fact that I should be secure in my womanhood and my relationship and just be able to ask Luke what is going on?” I try.
“No,” Mel says.
“Those are both very good points,” I say. Lexi nods.
“Those are very good points,” Mel says. “But what’s done is done.” She takes the empty perfume sample out of my hands and drops it into the garbage. “Devon, what does your new fake boyfriend have that your old fake boyfriend doesn’t?”
I think hard. “I dunno,” I say. I haven’t really created him yet. I try to think of something that my new fake boyfriend would have. Something that Jared, my old fake boyfriend, doesn’t. Something that would make Luke very, very, jealous. Millions of dollars? No, Luke’s not that materialistic. Maybe he’s a prince? Nah, then I’d have to move to a foreign country, and since Luke is so into mock trial, I’m guessing he’s pretty patriotic. “His own four-wheeler?” I try.
“Ooh!” Lexi says. She raises her hand like we’re at school and looks proud of herself. “He wants to be Devon’s date for the dance!”
Mel looks at us like we’re crazy and/or stupid. “No,” she says. “He’s fake.” She sits back on the bed and crosses her arms like she’s proud of herself.
“But Jared was fake, too,” I remind her. “Hence the term ‘fake boyfriend.’”
“Nooo,” Mel says, rolling her eyes at me. “Jared was real, he just wasn’t your boyfriend. Greg is fake.”
“So how does that help her?” Lexi asks.
“No one knows who he is,” Mel says. “He could be anybody.” Her brown eyes sparkle with mischief. And then it dawns on me. Mel is right. No one knows this alleged Greg. He could be anyone.
“I don’t get it,” Lexi says.
“She means that all we have to do, is find someone to be Greg!” I stare at Mel in awe. “Mel, you’re a genius!”
“You mean we’re going to hire an actor?” Lexi looks excited. “I’ve always wanted to be a casting director.”
“I don’t think we can hire an actor,” I say, “I mean, we don’t have any money.” Well, Lexi does. But I don’t think it would be fair to ask her to finance a fake ex-boyfriend. “So who do we know?” I run through a list of people in my head, hot guys that I know who have never met any of my school friends.
“What about Jack?” Mel asks. “He’s always had a little bit of a thing for you.”
“He has?” I didn’t know that. Jack is Mel’s cousin, and I never knew he had a thing for me. How much of a thing, I wonder? Not that I would ever want to date him. Jack is kind of . . . bizarre. He’s into role-playing games, like dressing up like a wizard and/or acting out Harry Potter scenes. I’ve only met him a couple times
, but I don’t think he’s what I had in mind when I pictured Greg. Still, maybe beggars can’t be choosers.
“Is he hot?” Lexi asks.
“Ummm . . .” I look at Mel, not sure what to say. How do I diss her cousin without sounding like a total brat? Plus, I should be nice to him. I mean, he’s obviously in love with me. And what if he somehow found out what I said about him? I don’t want to crush the poor boy’s heart. He’s probably very—
“He has a girlfriend,” Mel says.
“Girlfriend? I thought he liked me.” Figures.
“Well, he’s not pining over you or anything; he’s only met you a couple of times.”
“Yes, but is he hot?” Lexi asks.
Mel and I don’t say anything.
“You need someone hot,” Lexi goes on. She pulls her cell phone out of her bag and slides her finger down her list of contacts. “Let’s see, who do I know? Josh? No, he sometimes starts sweating when he gets nervous.” She bites her lip. “Yes!” she exclaims finally. “Ryan Geist! He’s perfect!”
“He is?”
“Yes, and he’s totally hot and cool.” She slides her phone back into her bag. “I’ll call him tonight and ask if he can play your boyfriend at the party.”
I stand up and clap my hands. “Yay!”
“Isn’t it going to be a little hard for him to pretend he knows Devon?” Mel asks.
“No, we’ll train him.” Lexi says. She smiles. “Easy peasy. Now we just need to figure out what we’re going to wear. You guys want to go shopping tomorrow?”
“We just went shopping today,” I point out.
“You can never go shopping too much,” Lexi says. “Besides, we need to get new outfits. I mean, there’s probably going to be spin the bottle.” She looks at Mel. “You should invite Dylan.” Mel looks a little sick at this possibility.
There’s a knock on her bedroom door, and Mel’s mom appears. She’s wearing her work clothes, a sleek black suit with pinstripes. Very smart and professional looking.
“Hi, girls,” her mom says. “Are you two going to be staying for dinner?”
“Uh, no,” Mel says quickly. I frown. What does she mean, “no”? I’d like to stay for dinner. Working out the fake boyfriend issue was a nice distraction, but now I’m back to thinking about my parents. And I don’t think I can face my dad right now. Or my mom. I mean, what would I say? Should I tell my mom what I saw? Should I confront my dad? I feel the backs of my eyes start to get all prickly, and I take a deep breath to try and keep myself from crying.
“Are you sure they can’t stay?” Mel’s mom asks. “I’m making lasagna.”
“No,” Mel says forcefully. And then she gives her mom a look. A look that is suspiciously like the one I gave Mel this morning in the hallway, when I was trying to convey something to her without anyone else noticing. Which means that Mel is trying to tell her mom something that she doesn’t want me and Lexi to know. And it has to do with why she doesn’t want us staying for dinner.
“I actually can’t stay,” I say, so Mel won’t feel uncomfortable. “My mom’s making her famous four-alarm chili, and she’d kill me if I wasn’t there.” A total lie. But honestly, what’s one more?
Besides, that’s the least of my worries. The most being, you know, my dad; the second being, Luke not asking me to the dance. And now I have to add to the list whatever Mel is hiding from me.
When I get home, no one’s in the kitchen, even though it’s dinnertime. I find Katie sitting in the living room, in front of the TV. She’s watching MSNBC.
“Where’re Mom and Dad?” I kick off my shoes and plop down onto the couch.
“Upstairs,” she says. “They are having a talk, and asked to not be disturbed, please.”
Uh-oh. That doesn’t sound good. A talk? That they don’t want to be disturbed from? Nothing good ever comes from talks that people don’t want to be disturbed from.
“Did they say what it was about?” I ask nonchalantly. I pull my assignment book down and scroll down my list. Ugh. I have a chapter to read for history, plus a bunch of English homework. Could this day get any worse?
“No,” Katie says. “It’s for grown-ups only.” She looks at me with disdain, like I obviously do not understand things that are for grown-ups.
“Can you turn that down?” I ask. It’s time to eavesdrop, and on the TV, two newscasters are arguing about something, which is going to make listening in on my parents’ conversation almost impossible. “Why are you watching this anyway?”
“It is about current events.” She holds the remote close to her, like she’s afraid I’m going to take it away from her. Which I was considering. “‘Current’ means things that are happening now.”
“I know what ‘current’ means,” I tell her. “But why are you watching it? Isn’t there a Blue’s Clues episode on somewhere that you should be tuning into?”
“I don’t watch Blue’s Clues!” Katie’s distressed. “Blue’s Clues is for babies!”
“Well, excuuuse me,” I say. “I don’t keep up with what kindergarteners are watching these days.” I know this will make her happy, since she’s only in preschool. She loves when anyone thinks she’s in kindergarten. And then I see the graphics and text on the screen under the faces of the newscasters. “International committee looks into alleged Olympic rowing scandal.” Well, that explains it. Katie’s feeding her Olympic obsession.
“Well,” I say, making a big show of standing up and stretching. “I guess I’m just going to go upstairs and start on all this homework.” I give my bag a pat and even add in a fake yawn for good measure. What I’m really going to do is spy on my parents. But as I’m standing up, it becomes unnecessary, since their voices come tumbling down the stairs. They’re not yelling exactly, but their voices are definitely raised.
“I was late, John. It happens,” my mom says. My dad must be upset with her for picking me up late. Is it possible that maybe he saw me at the coffee shop? Otherwise, why would he be so upset? “I don’t understand what the big deal is.”
“The big deal is that . . .” the rest of what my dad says is too muffled to understand.
Katie looks at me, her eyes wide. “Harsh tones,” she whispers. She pushes her bangs out of her face.
“Hey,” I say, “Don’t worry about it.” I get down on the floor and wrap my arms around her. “It’s just some harsh tones, big deal.” I roll my eyes. “I mean, come on. Asking someone to never have harsh tones? That’s just silly.”
“But that’s what they’re supposed to be doing. No. Harsh. Tones!”
“They’re not going to be perfect,” I say. “They’re working on it, and everything’s fine.”
Katie smiles at me and then turns her attention back to the Olympic rowing scandal. Wow. Talk about bouncing back. Too bad I don’t believe what I just told her. It’s more than obvious that my dad is very upset about me being at the coffee shop, and it’s probably because he realizes just how close he came to being caught. And my poor mom has no idea why he’s so upset about everything, and she just thinks he’s taking all these harsh tones with her for no reason. And no matter what I tell Katie, there is nothing good about this situation. Not one single thing. Not—
My mom comes clomping down the stairs. “Devon,” she announces. “You’re getting a cell phone.”
Well. I guess there’s that.
“I’m getting a cell phone after school today,” I tell Luke the next morning at school. He’s waiting for me at my locker, looking extremely cute in a pair of khaki pants and a blue T-shirt.
“That’s awesome,” Luke says. “Now we can text all during school.”
“Yeah,” I say, turning away before he can see that I’m blushing. He wants to text with me all during school! I mean, come on! He wouldn’t want to text with me all day if he still liked Barelli. He wouldn’t want to be in constant contact with me if I wasn’t his one and only. As if on cue, Luke’s phone beeps, and he pulls it out of his pocket, checks the screen, and then start
s typing on his keyboard. Hmm. Well, of course he’s going to be texting with other people. I mean, everyone does it. Everyone who has a cell phone. And now I will too! Who is he texting with, though, I wonder? Jared maybe? But then I see Jared down the hall, standing with Lexi. His phone is nowhere to be seen. So not Jared. Maybe a friend from soccer? Maybe his mom? I try to look over and check his screen, but I can’t see anything without leaning in too much, which would be totally obvious.
“Are you looking at my phone?” Luke asks.
“No,” I say. “I mean, well, yeah, but only because I wanted to see if I should get the same kind as you.”
“You should get whatever one you like,” Luke says. And then all of a sudden, his voice turns serious. “Listen, Devon,” he says, and slides his phone into his pocket. He leans against the locker next to mine. Ohmigod. He’s going to tell me he was texting Bailey. And yeah, he’s probably going to say they’re just friends, but who really believes that? And if they’re texting all day, then why do they have to note-pass on top of it?
I put on my best “I’m totally adjusted and don’t care about any of this” face.
“I need to, uh, to ask you something.”
“Yes, Luke?”
He looks down at the floor, and mumbles something that sounds like, “Wilahslhdwishme.”
“What?” I ask.
“Will you go to the dance with me?” He looks up at me, and his blue eyes meet mine, and I’m so shocked that at first I’m sure I couldn’t have heard him right. But then Mikayla Parsons, this very loud eighth grader, who always wears a bomber jacket to school, steps on my foot as she walks by me in the hall, and I realize Mikayla Parsons stepping on my foot would never happen if this were just a dream.
“Of course!” I say. Which, you know, may be a little eager, but days of anticipation and waiting will do that to a person.
Luke smiles and leans over and brushes his lips against mine. My stomach goes all wobbly and I lean back against my locker and try to catch my breath.
“Hey,” Lexi says, walking up to us in the hall. “You two are sooo cute, but seriously, can we keep the PDA for after school?” But she’s smiling.