My Fake Boyfriend is Better Than Yours Page 8

  Sea hesitates and furrows her eyebrows. She looks confused. “I’m not sure,” she replies slowly. “Never mind. Let’s play.” She turns back to the television and unpauses the game.

  Phew. That could have been so ugly. I’m never going to try to hypnotize anyone ever again.

  16

  Sometimes a good night’s sleep makes everything seem different in the morning. Yesterday I was desperate to save Sienna from her compulsive lying self. But today things have changed somehow. So, my best friend is a little colorful. So, she’s minorly loose with the truth. Some might call it charming. Even creative. And what’s it hurting anyway? There’s no damage being done here. If anything, things are better for both of us. The only repercussions from our abundance of lying are that our social lives have expanded. Boo hoo hoo. We have more friends. Isn’t that what every girl my age wants? Actually, I didn’t think I wanted that; I was pretty happy with it being just Sea and me. But it appears that lots of friends is what the average girl wants. And here I am trying to ruin it. Pssh. No more. In fact, I’m going to embrace my fake boyfriend (not literally of course) and really live it up. We’re going to have the most fantastic fake relationship ever. Even if our new friends aren’t friend friends, who cares? It’s all about perception anyway, and right now I’m perceived to have an awesome boyfriend and a popular best friend. There is nothing wrong with that.

  I carefully pick out my clothes, deciding on a light pink cable-knit elbow sweater and brown skirt. I reach up into my closet for the small wooden jewelry box tucked in the corner to the far right. Inside are a few pieces of jewelry I’ve received over the years from Mom and Grandma and my aunt Kate. There is a birthstone ring, a chunky silver bracelet, and several pairs of earrings. I zone in on one particular item though: a small blue Tiffany box. Inside lies a silver open heart pendant with a pink sapphire at the top of it. Sienna’s never seen it and I’ve never told her about it. I haven’t told anyone about it. I haven’t worn it anywhere because it’s so expensive. I call it Dad’s guilt gift (only in my head and not to Dad, of course). I also never wear it because Mom was way royally ticked when Dad gave it to me. I remember her yelling things like “Are you out of your mind? Tiffany for a nine-year-old? You never gave me anything Tiffany.” I figured it would make her angry so I put it away up on my closet shelf and forgot about it. Until now, that is.

  “Ready to go, Tori?” Mom yells.

  “Yeah. I’m coming,” I respond. I tuck the heart underneath my sweater—I still don’t see any reason to tick Mom off—grab my backpack, and head out the front door.

  I open the passenger door of the car and climb in.

  “Oh, honey, you look so nice. Something special going on today?” Mom asks.

  “Nope. Just felt like dressing up,” I reply.

  She backs the car down the driveway and into the street. “How are things going at school? I’m really sorry that I’ve been so preoccupied at work. I’ve been working on this big project for one of our top clients, and Linda, that no-good suck-up, has been trying to edge me out of my lead position and . . .”

  I tune her out. Now that she’s ranting, it’ll probably last the whole way to school. The good thing is that she never expects me to respond, so I can daydream or think about my own problems. Which, if you ask me, are a lot more complicated than hers.

  We pull up to the junior high, and I wave goodbye to Mom. We got here early today and kids are still milling around outside. I zero in on Sienna, Lauren, Anica, Avery, and Natalie talking by the bike rack. I pull the heart pendant out from beneath my sweater and smooth it down so that it’s in clear view.

  “Morning,” I call cheerily as I join the group.

  “Hey, Tori.” Sienna smiles. “We were talking about Brooks Prep. Did you see the new episode last night?”

  I finger my heart pendant. “No, I was sort of busy last night.”

  “Oh, it was awesome!” Sea exclaims. “Darcy broke up with Jacob and—”

  “Wait,” Lauren interrupts, putting up a hand to shush Sienna. “Is that Tiffany?”

  She points to my necklace and I blush. I didn’t even have to try to blush—it just happened. I nod.

  “No. Way,” Sienna utters.

  “I knew it.” Lauren claps her hands. “My mom gets the Tiffany catalogs and I’ve been studying them for years. I can always spot a Tiffany. It’s really pretty, Tori.”

  “Thank you,” I reply.

  “Where’d you get it?” Sea asks.

  A huge grin spreads across my face. “I was coming over to tell you. It’s from Sebastian. We’re exclusive now.”

  “Oh,” Avery gasps, clutching her heart.

  “That’s so sweet,” Natalie coos.

  “Exclusive? So what does that mean?” Sienna asks.

  “It means they’re getting married,” Avery cries.

  “No, that’s engaged,” Anica says.

  “Yeah, she’s right,” I affirm. “We’re not engaged. Not yet, anyway. We could be though. Someday. Being exclusive is like the step before getting engaged.” And then we’ll have a fake wedding and a fake house and three adorable fake children. But no fake cats. I’m allergic.

  The girls look impressed. Sienna looks upset. My guess is she’s racking her brain trying to figure out a way for Antonio to top this, and unless he sends a unicorn to whisk her off to Aruba for a rendezvous, he can’t.

  “I don’t get . . . When did this happen?” Sea mumbles. “You were at my house yesterday afternoon.”

  “It was after. When my mom and I pulled up to our house, Sebastian was sitting there on the porch steps waiting for me. His mom was in the area for some kind of meeting and dropped him off to visit for a while. He gave it to me then.” You know, this lying thing gets easier the more you do it.

  “He also gave me a poem,” I continue. “A love poem. It was about stars and eyes and hearts beating. It was so romantic.”

  “He wrote it?” Sea asks hesitantly.

  I consider saying yes and adding poet to his list of amazing qualities, but she already looks crushed enough about this latest development. “Nah, I think it was by some old dead guy. It was really good though.”

  The warning bell rings. “Let’s go in.” I walk toward the main doors and the girls are following me. Sea poutily brings up the rear.

  Sienna is moody for the rest of the day. She’s barely said two words about Antonio. It’s like she’s defeated or something. My Sebastian is the crown prince of fake boyfriends and her Antonio is but a mere imitation. Literally, ha ha. She’s not even trying to compete, even when the opportunity is handed right to her. Like at lunch today I was telling the girls how Sebastian told me he was going to ask his mom if they could invite me on their family vacation this summer to Lake Geneva. It was the perfect opportunity for Sienna to dredge up yet another one of her vacation stories about Antonio. But did she? Nope. She just sat there stabbing her fat-free pudding cup over and over again with her spork.

  And when the final bell rang and we were getting our books and things ready to go, I said how I couldn’t wait to get home and see if Sebastian had e-mailed me anything cute. I came right out and asked her if she was going to IM with Antonio tonight and she just shrugged. That was it. She’s really being a big baby today if you ask me. She reminds me of my little cousin Lily. If you’re playing Monopoly with her and she’s ahead, then everything is great. But soon as someone else starts winning she up and quits.

  Later that evening, while Mom’s making dinner in the kitchen—mostaccioli and turkey meatballs—I check my e-mail and halfway expect to see an e-mail from Sebastian. I’ve been making up so many stories about him that he almost seems real. I see an e-mail from Dad and click on it.

  To: TorItUp@funmail.com

  From: jbarnes@zmail.com

  Re: Dearest Daughter

  Dear Tori,

  How are you? How’s school going this week? I can’t wait for your next visit—I’m thinking we’ll hit Navy Pier next time. What do
you think? Did you and Sienna get everything straightened out?

  I love and miss you,

  Dad

  I pull my heart pendant from underneath my sweater and rub it. I hit Reply.

  To: jbarnes@zmail.com

  From: TorItUp@funmail.com

  Re: Dearest Father

  Dear Dad,

  I love and miss you too! I think Navy Pier the next time I visit is an excellent idea. I ♥ the Ferris wheel. School is fine and everything is going well with me and Sienna. I’m actually having fun. I decided it was too hard to get her to change so I joined her. My fake boyfriend is kicking her fake boyfriend’s butt!

  I love you,

  Tori

  I minimize my e-mail and head to the kitchen for dinner with Mom. When I’m full I retreat back to my room for “homework” and check my e-mail again. Two new e-mails. One from Sienna and one from Dad.

  To: TorItUp@funmail.com

  From: SiennasHeart@funmail.com

  Re: Math

  What was tonight’s homework?

  That’s it. A one-line e-mail. Sheesh, somebody’s in a mood. I hit Reply.

  To: SiennasHeart@funmail.com

  From: TorItUp@funmail.com

  Re: Re: Math

  P34, 1–21, odds

  There. I can write short e-mails too. I open the e-mail from Dad.

  To: TorItUp@funmail.com

  From: jbarnes@zmail.com

  Re: Dearest Truthful Integrity-Filled Daughter

  Dear Tori,

  No, no, no. You’re missing the point, hon. Don’t be someone you’re not. You don’t need a fake boyfriend to be special and you don’t need to compete with your best friend. Just be you. You are perfect. Love always,

  Dad

  Competing? We’re not competing. Okay, yeah we are. But I’m winning, so there’s no harm. I hit Reply.

  To: jbarnes@zmail.com

  From: TorItUp@funmail.com

  Re: Dearest Worrying Needlessly Father

  Dear Dad,

  You needn’t worry as I am very wise and capable far beyond my twelve years. Besides I’d think you’d prefer me dating an imaginary boy as opposed to a real one, no?

  I love you,

  Tori

  There. Send. I have everything under control.

  17

  I head into school Wednesday morning, ready for whatever Antonio the Great stories Sienna has to throw at me. I figure she spent most of last night coming up with something big to beat out Sebastian’s generous jewelry gift yesterday. I know that’s what I was doing, preparing my counterattack to her counterattack. But she did nothing. She didn’t have one Antonio story to tell in homeroom this morning. Instead she pretended to be overly interested in Channel One and the story about the ninth-grade girl from the inner city who was chosen to spend two weeks in Africa this summer distributing aid to the poor. Avery and Natalie still wanted to chat, of course, so I did my best to keep them entertained with tales of Sebastian’s and my relationship.

  After homeroom, I practically bounce into science class.

  “Hi!” I say, slipping into my seat next to Daphne.

  “Tori!” Daphne and Bella squeal.

  “Are you ready?” Daphne inquires.

  “So ready,” I return. “Did you talk to your brother, Bella? Is everything on schedule on his end?”

  “Yes!” she exclaims, rapping her fists on her desk. We’re all super pumped about our plan. It’s hard to sit still. “He said the cat lady—I mean Principal Brown—dropped off her film for developing last night. She always picks it up on Wednesday afternoons, so it’s now or never.”

  Principal Brown, a.k.a. “the cat lady,” is an amateur photographer with only one subject in her presumably huge portfolio. Mrs. Winifred Whiskers. According to Bella’s older brother, Christian, Principal Brown takes thirty new pictures of her cat in various cute outfits each week and always brings them to the photo lab where he works on Tuesdays for pickup on Wednesday afternoons. He said if we want to slip something into her photos, we have to e-mail it to him by noon today. Our plan is to tell a story with pictures. It’s a story we’re thinking Principal Brown will find very interesting.

  Daphne is clutching her phone in her hand.

  “Did you already get the picture of the door with the room number?” I question.

  “Yeah,” Daphne replies. “I got it on the way in.”

  “I’m up then,” Bella announces. “Can you help me? Distract Mrs. Wittler while she’s drinking from her cup so she doesn’t see me take the pic.”

  “No problem,” I say. We look at Mrs. Wittler, sitting in the front with her coffee cup in one hand and the attendance sheet in the other. I walk toward her.

  “Yes, Tori?” she says, setting her attendance sheet down on the table and wrapping both hands around the cup.

  “Um, Mrs. Wittler?” I begin.

  She nods and takes a sip from her cup, keeping her eyes on me.

  “Do we have a quiz today?”

  She sets her cup down and frowns. “Tori, go sit down. I’ll tell the entire class what we’re doing at the same time.”

  “Oh. Okay. Thanks,” I say, and return to my seat. “Did you get it?” I whisper to Bella.

  Bella nods and mouths, “You’re up.”

  Class starts and Mrs. Wittler tells us to write a one-paragraph reaction to yesterday’s experiment. The room is quiet. I slip Daphne’s phone into my pocket since it’s my turn to take a picture. I raise my hand and ask if I can use the girls’ bathroom, and Mrs. Wittler nods.

  I leave class but I never go to the bathroom. Instead I stand in the hallway, peeking in at Mrs. Wittler sitting at her lab table. She’s clutching her cup of coffee while she watches the room. Everyone is working. I see her look down at her large cloth bag on the floor and then back at the students. And then back at the bag again. This is it.

  Mrs. Wittler slowly reaches down to her bag and pulls out the flask, hiding it under the table. She scans the room of working students once more, probably trying to see if anyone is paying any attention to her, screws off the top of the flask, and pours some of the liquid into her cup.

  Snap! I’ve got the picture.

  I wait out in the hallway for another minute before reentering the class. I give Daphne and Bella a thumbs-up and slide into my seat.

  Daphne is going to take the last two photos, so I pass her the phone when I’m sure no one is looking. I start working on my paragraph.

  Maybe two minutes later, Daphne stands and approaches Mrs. Wittler. I can’t hear what she’s saying, but I know what the plan is. She’s going to tell Mrs. Wittler that her pen ran out of ink and ask to borrow one. Mrs. Wittler keeps her extra pens in the top drawer of her desk in her office. Mrs. Wittler waves for her to go ahead, and Daphne walks slowly down the aisle between Bella and me. We see her quietly flip open the phone and take a picture of Mrs. Wittler’s office. I glance around the room to see if anyone noticed, but the entire class is busily working. Except for us, that is.

  Daphne enters Mrs. Wittler’s office and a few moments later rejoins us with a new pen in hand.

  I watch the front of the room. Mrs. Wittler is looking down at the table, reading something. I lean over to Daphne. “Did you get a pic of the whiskey?” I ask. She nods.

  Yes!

  After class we meet in the girls’ bathroom and e-mail the pictures to Christian in the order they are to be printed—Wittler’s room number, Wittler drinking from her cup, Wittler pouring from her flask into the cup, Wittler’s office, and Wittler’s whiskey lying in her desk.

  Man, I wish I could see Principal Brown’s face when she picks up her photos today.

  18

  I make it into homeroom on Thursday right before the bell rings. Sienna and the girls are already talking up a storm. She’s noticeably more chipper today. Good. I’m glad. Maybe a couple of days of feeling defeated is what she needed and now she’ll go back to normal. Sea looks up at me as I approach.

  “What’
s everyone talking about?” I ask, slipping into my desk chair.

  “There is a new substitute teacher in science,” Natalie answers. “Mrs. Wittler is gone. I heard she got busted for selling drugs out of the trunk of her car.” She nods, her eyes wide.

  “I heard she embezzled money from the science club,” Sienna asserts.

  “I heard she hooked up with one of her former students,” Avery counters.

  Man, the rumors are flying already. “Ewwww. That’s so gross! I bet it’s none of that. Maybe she’s on vacation?” I offer. “I’m sure she’ll be back.”

  Sienna shakes her head. “Uh-uh. The sub said she was here until they find a permanent replacement.”

  “Permanent?” I repeat. Oh wow. I guess our little photo story worked. But why do I suddenly feel bad? I mean, she wasn’t exactly ever nice to any of us. And we had no choice but to report her for drinking in class. But I didn’t want to ruin her life or anything. I didn’t want to get her fired. I figured they’d send her to a fancy rehab for a month like they do with all of the celebrities who can’t stop partying. Yikes. I look out the classroom door into the hallway. I wonder if Daphne and Bella have heard yet.

  “So hey, the back-to-school dance is Saturday night,” Avery states, changing the subject. “Are you going?”

  “Huh?” I utter. I’m still thinking about Mrs. Wittler. An image of her homeless on the street, eating bits of chewed-up, thrown-out cheeseburger from a Dumpster is going through my mind. I hope she can find another job. Well, first I hope she can get some help with her drinking and then find a new job.

  “The dance,” Avery repeats. “Are you going?”

  “Oh. I totally forgot about the dance,” I reply. “I guess I’ll go. If I have time to get a dress, that is. I’ll have to talk to my mom.”