The Truth About Faking Read Online Free PDF Page A

it.
    “People see a young man like Ricky under my instruction, and immediately they assume the most stereotypical thing in the world,” she continues.
    “I was just saying—” I try interrupting again.
    “Is it so hard to believe that I could actually teach him something?” Her voice is angry, and she’s pulling my braid too tight.
    “I wanted you to do my hair like this for a guy!” I blurt.
    “What?”
    Lecture effectively derailed. “There’s this guy at school? Trent? I’m hoping he asks me out today.”
    Mom smiles and pulls my head toward her as she ties off the end of my braid. “Any boy would be lucky to go out with you.” Her voice is warm now.
    “So I gotta go,” I say. “And I think it’s wonderful that a nice young man like Ricky has such a smart, professional woman to instruct him in massage therapy.”
    She shakes her head and smiles, and I run back to my room to slip on the dress I bought yesterday, right before the collision.

Three
     
     
    The bell signals the end of second period, and I realize I’ve forgotten my notebook in my locker. Precious seconds are passing as I stop to get it, and I’m so flustered, my hands are shaking. It’s all been building to this. Operation Luau—the weeks of meeting him after class with warm smiles and encouraging hellos, the getting up early so Mom could give me Greek goddess braids, the dress I bought. And now Shelly tells me he asked Brian what I was like in August! Of course, that was a whole semester ago. Before Stephanie…
    My fingers are trembling so hard, I can barely dial my combination, and my heart’s just thumping. Right then, I hear a familiar voice behind me.
    “Harley Davidson!” Jason.
    “Hey,” I breathe, jerking the door open. I push my other books out of the way and grab my notebook. I can feel the seconds ticking away.
    “I think I’ll just call you H.D.,” he continues.
    “Whatever. Bye, Jason.” I slam my locker and take off toward Mrs. Gipson’s room, glancing at the large clocks suspended throughout the hall as I run. Seconds make all the difference when we only have eight minutes between classes.
    I dash around the corner just in time to see Trent walking toward the door, then I hop back and smooth my dress. I catch my breath and try to look cool as I walk casually toward our classroom.
    “Oh!” I say as I almost bump into him. Accidentally, of course.
    “Oh,” he smiles. My heart does a little flutter. He really does have the sweetest smile. “Hey, Harley.”
    “Hey,” I breathe. He always dresses like a model. Today, he’s wearing cuffed khakis and a long-sleeved navy polo, and his hair’s styled in a short, retro cut. Stupid Stephanie Miller.
    We stand for a second in front of each other. I look around and try to figure out how to get us on the subject of the luau. I’ve daydreamed this moment a million times, and now I’m completely blanking.
    “How’s it going?” I stall.
    “Okay,” he says. “Basketball season’s starting. Heads up!”
    “Right,” I laugh a little, seriously wishing he’d forget that part of our close encounter at the gym. How humiliating. “So did you have a fun weekend?”
    He shrugs. “Sure.”
    “Me, too.” I smile thinking… thinking… Then I look up and see a poster for the luau. Yes!
    “Oh, look,” I say pointing to it. “The luau’s Friday.”
    His eyes literally brighten. “Yeah,” he says. “I was thinking about that—”
    But at that moment, a loud voice comes up behind me. “You know, it’s not cool to walk off when someone’s talking.” I freeze. It’s Jason again.
    “Oh, hey. Trent?” he says, like he’s trying to remember.
    “Jason, right? Hey, man,” Trent says. They give each other a fist bump.
    “You two… know each other?” I look from one to the other.
    “Met at the park Saturday,” Jason says. Then he points at Trent. “Ultimate Frisbee.”
    “Yeah,” Trent smiles. Then he motions to me and Jason. “Do you two know each