The Truth About Faking

go?
    Not gr8. Not bad.
    What now?
    Leaving SF.
    What?
    Moving to G’ville.
    No! :(
    Yes! :)
    Really?
    Yes. Big :) Hate SF.
    I know. :| Talk soon?
    OK.
    I lie back on my bed and breathe. I don’t even realize I’m tired, but when I open my eyes again, the sun’s going down. I jump up and grab my phone. I meant to do this earlier.
    You there? I text.
    I wait several seconds. Nothing.
    I don’t know if he’ll respond after last night or what he’ll even say, but I have to try. I need to see him. I can’t wait any longer. Not one more second. Finally my phone whistles.
    What up?
    Crk?
    Hmm.
    Pls?
    OK.
    It takes less than five minutes to get there. I ditch my bike at the road and run to where he’s standing by our tree on the bank. I only half-notice his car parked nearby.
    “Jason,” I pant when I finally reach him. He just stands there, watching me as I catch my breath. My heart’s thrumming.
    “Sorry I didn’t make it for church,” he says. “I kind of needed to sleep a little longer this morning.”
    “The head?” I ask.
    He shrugs. “Somebody was a little hung over today.”
    “You really are a bad influence,” I smile.
    “I try not to be.”
    “You’ll have to try harder.”
    I’m finally breathing normally again, but this small talk has to stop. I want him to kiss me. I take a step closer, but he doesn’t respond. He either isn’t getting the hint or he’s decided to make me work for it, which I guess is only fair after how hard I made him work.
    “So why’d you want to meet?” He asks, sliding his hands into his pockets. I watch him thinking how those hands need to be out of those pockets and pulling me close to him.
    “Well, I was thinking,” I hesitate. I know why I wanted to see him, but my carefully planned speech has gone out of my head at the sight of him.
    “What?” he asks.
    I look around. He isn’t making it easier for me. “So how about that,” I start. “With Trent, I mean.”
    He shrugs. “No biggie,” he says. Then he looks at me a second. “I guess that makes me, what? The consolation prize?”
    “No! I wasn’t thinking that at all,” I say, reaching for his arm. “I wanted to see you the other night at David’s party. I want you to…”
    But he catches my hand and holds it back. “Uh uh,” he says. My stomach clenches.
    He shakes his head. “I’m not here for that.”
    “But… I was hoping—”
    “I’m not some yo-yo, Harley.”
    “I know you’re not, but I just thought—”
    “That I’d be waiting for you? Just like always?”
    I look down and shrug. “I guess.” My eyes are starting to burn again, and I’m afraid I might cry.
    “I’m sorry your plans with Trent didn’t work out.”
    I hesitate too long fighting tears, and he frowns, turning to go. “Like I said, no more games.”
    Then I remember the party. “But what about Stephanie? I mean, I don’t understand. Why her?”
    It’s a dumb question. Anyone can see why guys want to date Stephanie, but Jason knows about me and her.
    He shrugs. “She’s nice enough.”
    “But she’s just like them, the people you said you hated.”
    He puts his hands back in his pockets. “She’s actually not,” he says. “And at least she knows how to be real.”
    He looks straight into my eyes when he says it, and my stomach hurts. I have no response, no arguments. He’s right. There’s nothing I can say to change what I’ve done or how I’ve treated him. I’ve been playing games since the first day I met him, and it isn’t fair to expect him to wait around for me to make up my mind. He’s picked Stephanie, and no amount of assertiveness is going to change that.
    “See you around, H.D.,” he says and starts walking back to his car. I watch as he gets into the Passat and drives away. Then I slide down against the tree and put my head on my bent knees as the tears stream down my face.
     
    The next morning I try to think of any reason to stay home, but it’s no good. Mom’s as tough about attendance as she is about facing my problems.
    “It hurts too much,” I whisper, staring into my coffee mug. “There’s no way I’m learning anything today.”
    Mom’s at the bar stirring honey into her tea. She presses her lips together and walks over to place her hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry things didn’t go the way you hoped,” she says softly. “But you never know what can happen. Things can change in a day.”
    I shrug, and she starts combing my hair back with her