My Fake Boyfriend is Better Than Yours Page 9

  “It’s not formal or anything. You can wear what you want,” Natalie says. “We’re going. It’ll be so much fun. You have to come.”

  “Okay,” I relent. “Yeah, I’ll go.”

  “Are you going to ask Charles?” Avery teases Natalie.

  Natalie’s cheeks turn a deep red. “Avery! I told you not to tell anyone.” She puts her face in her hands.

  “Whoops. Sorry,” Avery says. “But they don’t care.” She waves at Sea and me. “They have boyfriends anyway. They’re not going to say anything.”

  “Aw, you like Charles?” Sea asks. “You should ask him to the dance. I bet he says yes.”

  “Really?” Natalie shakes her head. “I don’t think I can. I’d probably hyperventilate trying to get the words out. Maybe he’ll ask me?”

  “You should ask him,” I pipe in. “He might not even know that you like him.”

  Channel One flips on while we’re chatting, and we stop to watch. There is this extraordinarily gorgeous boy smiling down at us from the television screen. He has wavy light brown hair, big emerald green eyes, pink full lips, and an adorable dimple in his left cheek.

  “Wow,” Avery says. “Will you look at that?”

  “Shh,” Sienna says. “I want to hear what they’re saying.”

  We stare at the screen. There is a half-burned building and red fire trucks lining a street in the city, their lights flashing. The teenage newscaster continues with the story. “He’s only fourteen and in the eighth grade at McHenry Junior High School here in Chicago. The mother of the two toddlers that he rescued from the burning apartment building says she feels like she has another son. She will be eternally grateful to Sebastian Colander, our local hero.”

  Sienna, Avery, and Natalie audibly gasp and fling around in their chairs to look at me. I almost fall out of mine and clutch the desk to keep myself steady.

  Did they just say Sebastian Colander? Like, Sebastian Colander, the exact name of my fake boyfriend, Sebastian Colander? What are the freakin’ odds of that?

  Have I taken a breath lately? I need to keep breathing.

  I inhale deeply. Ah yes. Air. There it is. Oh. My. God. Sebastian is on television!

  “Tori!” Sienna yells. “You said Sebastian was gorgeous, but omigod, he’s like celebrity gorgeous.”

  “He’s amazing,” Natalie adds.

  “Holy crap, Tori, he’s phenomenal,” Avery confirms. “And you are exclusive with him. You are the luckiest girl in our entire school!”

  I reach for my heart pendant. Oh yeah. Hee hee. Sebastian gave me this beautiful necklace. Why am I feeling dizzy? I gasp. Right. That breathing thing. Must keep doing that breathing thing.

  “Tori, you have to, I mean have to, bring Sebastian to the school dance on Saturday,” Avery insists. “All the girls will go crazy. You’ll be the envy of the entire seventh grade. Forget that, you’ll be the envy of Norton Junior High.”

  “Definitely,” Natalie agrees. “He’s a local celebrity now—like that girl broadcaster said. Wow, I’m already jealous. Do you think he’ll give me an autograph? I mean, if you ask him he’ll do it, right?”

  Everyone is looking at me. I think they want me to speak. I seem to have forgotten how to do that, however.

  “Oh, Tori,” Sea says. “They’re right. You have to bring Sebastian to the dance. We can finally have that double date we talked about. My parents are flying Antonio out to go to the dance with me. It’ll be so perfect.”

  I stare at Sea, my mouth hanging open.

  Antonio is real?!

  I think my heart just stopped.

  19

  Let’s see. The dance is the day after tomorrow. That’s plenty of time for me to hunt down the real Sebastian Colander, make him fall in love with me, and bring him to the dance. Right?

  Oh lord. I’ve got to try.

  I find Bella in the hallway before first hour. “Bella,” I start, stopping her before she goes into class. “Do me a favor?”

  “Sure. What’s up?” she responds.

  “I sort of need to skip out of science class today. It’s a sub anyway, so I’m sure she won’t even notice that I’m not here.” I look around to see if anyone is listening and decide to lower my voice in case someone is. “If she takes attendance, can you fake a ‘here’ for me?”

  Bella gives me a concerned look. “No problem. Are you sick or something? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  I tilt my head. You could say that, I think. If seeing one’s fake boyfriend materialize before one’s very eyes isn’t a bit ghostly, I don’t know what is. “I’ll be okay,” I say instead. “Thank you so much for doing this. You’re a good friend.”

  After the bell rings and all of the students are in class, I hang out in the hallway outside the school library. I duck behind a big garbage can waiting for the librarian, Mrs. Cass, to leave for her daily coffee break in the teachers’ lounge. Boy, the teachers at this school sure like their coffee.

  I quietly sneak into the library and let myself onto one of the computers. I open up my e-mail program, hit Compose, and start writing.

  To: jbarnes@zmail.com

  From: TorItUp@funmail.com

  Re: Dearest Wise Butt-Saving Father

  Dad!

  Oh, Dad, I messed up. I’m in SO MUCH trouble. You have to help me. You know a lot of people in the city. Ever hear of a Sebastian Colander? He goes to McHenry Junior High and he’s in the eighth grade. I told everyone he was my boyfriend (the fake one I mentioned previously) but it turns out that HE’S REAL! I have to bring him to the dance this Saturday night. Can you help me? I need to find him ASAP. My entire social life depends on this. We’re talking life or death here, Dad. HELP ME!

  Love,

  Tori

  I hit Send and check the clock. I’ve been in here for five minutes. I can probably hang out for another five before Mrs. Cass returns and finds me out. I’m hoping Dad sees my e-mail and writes back immediately. He’s a chronic e-mail checker, so the chances are good that he will. He’s also a chronic Tweeter. I can imagine what he’s writing right now in the “What’s happening?” box. Let’s hope it is “Devising a clever plan to rescue daughter from schoolwide ostracizing.”

  The adrenaline is coursing through me, and I can hardly sit still. What if Dad can’t help me? What am I going to do? I wasn’t kidding when I said this was life or death. Now that Antonio’s real, I’m the only one with a fake boyfriend. And if I get exposed as the big fat liar that I am, how do I ever live it down? This is one of those things that could follow me throughout not only junior high but high school. I’ll be a social leper. Not only will no one want to be friends with me but Sea won’t want anything to do with me either. I have to fix this.

  I click on my in-box to check for any new e-mail. Score. There’s one from Dad.

  To: TorItUp@funmail.com

  From: jbarnes@zmail.com

  Re: Dearest Should-Have-Listened-to-Her-Father Daughter

  Tori! Tori, Tori, Tori.

  Oh, hon, I’m so sorry. This sounds like quite the mess. Chicago is a big city, my dear. I wish I could tell you that I knew everyone and that I could find this Sebastian kid and bring him to the school dance for you, but I can’t. I won’t tell you that I told you so (at least I won’t tell you again. LOL. I know, not an LOL time. Sorry), but I will give you some advice. Sweetie, you’ve got to come clean. Tell the truth. The truth sets you free (really smart, wise people around the world concur). You’ll get through this, Tor.

  Love always,

  Dad

  The truth? That’s his recommendation? The truth? Is he freakin’ kidding me? What good is the truth going to do me now?

  I close my e-mail and glance around the library. I have to get out of here before Mrs. Cass discovers me. I can’t exactly go to science class right now though. I need time to think. I head for the handicapped stall of the second-floor girls’ bathroom: my thinking spot.

  It looks like I’m going to have to track down this Seba
stian Colander all by myself.

  I spent two entire class periods in the girls’ bathroom today. It took me that long to get up the nerve to face my friends again. That was fun, let me tell you. News of my gorgeous famous boyfriend spread like mono at a game of Spin the Bottle. Everyone wanted to ask questions; everyone wanted to meet him. Join the club, I thought. Not trusting words to come from my mouth and not wanting to further incriminate myself, I plastered a good-size smile on my face and nodded a lot. It got me through the day anyway.

  I also needed the bathroom downtime to devise a plan of attack for locating Sebastian Colander. And while I wouldn’t say it’s foolproof, it’s a start at least. I’m going to turn where I always turn when I’m in trouble.

  Google.

  I know I shouldn’t be online when Mom’s not home. And I swear I’ll reserve a nice chunk of time later for feeling immensely guilty about this rule I’m about to break, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all that.

  I close my bedroom door and carefully stack a bunch of books against the inside of the door, in case Mom gets home early. I know the books won’t keep her out, but they’ll give me enough of a warning to shut down my Web browser and get away from the computer.

  I search for “Sebastian Colander,” and two pages of hits are displayed. Not bad. I click on the links one at a time, looking for anything that might help me locate Sebastian. It seems to be news story after news story about the fire. I click on a link to an online paper for the city.

  14-Year-Old Boy Rescues

  Woman and Twin Toddlers

  CHICAGO, ILLINOIS—McHenry Junior High School eighth graders Sebastian Colander and Darrell Rogers were walking by an apartment building on the 4700 block on South Tripp Avenue Wednesday evening when they spotted smoke pouring from the building. Rogers called 911 while Colander ran through the building, banging on doors, to make sure that everyone had gotten out. “I heard babies crying,” Colander said when he reached apartment 2A. “I had to do something so I busted down the door [of the apartment].” Colander followed the crying to a nursery in the back of the apartment where twin two-year-olds, Johnny and Tyler Jackson, were hysterical in their cribs. “I scooped up the kids in my arms and ran out. I saw a lady sleeping on a couch in the living room and yelled at her to get up and follow me out of the building,” Colander added. Thirty-four-year-old Sheila Jackson and her boys made it to the sidewalk uninjured shortly before fire trucks arrived. “I can’t believe this young boy saved my family,” Ms. Jackson told reporters. “I’ll forever be grateful.” Chicago firefighters later found that the fire had been started by a tipped-over electric heater. Firefighters also commented that the smoke alarm in the apartment did not have batteries. Ms. Jackson noted that she had taken a heavier dose of her allergy medication than normal that night and that was why she didn’t notice the fire.

  I sit back in my chair and rub my cheek. Dude. My boyfriend is hot. Seriously, I have some amazing taste. He really is a hero.

  I continue searching the Web for something that will help me reach Sebastian, but I’m not finding anything that looks useful yet. I was really hoping I’d find an e-mail address for him so I could contact him directly. Not that I have any sort of clue as to what I’d say. The closest thing I found was the McHenry Junior High Web site. All the e-mail addresses for the teachers listed on the page end in @MJHS.edu. Although it’s a long shot, I’m thinking maybe if I try a bunch of different combinations to that address one of them will reach him.

  To: Sebastian.Colander@MJHS.edu, Sebastian_Colander@MJHS.edu, SColander@MJHS.edu, ColanderS@MJHS.edu, SColander1@MJHS.edu

  From: TorItUp@funmail.com

  Re: Need to speak with you

  If this is the real Sebastian Colander, you need to write me back right away. It is extremely urgent. Thank you.

  Tori Barnes

  Send.

  I stare at my e-mail, waiting. Hmm. On second thought, he might just send that e-mail right to junk mail, thinking it’s spam. And I don’t exactly have the luxury of time to wait around and see. I compose another e-mail.

  To: Sebastian.Colander@MJHS.edu, Sebastian_Colander@MJHS.edu, SColander@MJHS.edu, ColanderS@MJHS.edu, SColander1@MJHS.edu

  From: TorItUp@funmail.com

  Re: Need to speak with you, Part 2

  This is not spam. I am not from a small village in Zimbabwe, I am not a Nigerian prince, and I don’t need to use your bank account or your social security number or anything like that. I swear. I’m just a girl in the seventh grade at Norton Junior High School in Norton, IL, and I really need to talk to you. Please write me back. Thank you.

  Tori Barnes

  Send.

  There. That’s better than nothing. But not enough by far. I need to keep searching. I return to Google, looking for anything to get me closer to Sebastian now.

  I scroll down to the bottom of the first page of hits and an IM window pops up.

  SiennasHeart: Tori!!

  Ah! Is there any chance she can see that I’m Googling Sebastian? I mean, her IM window is so close to my search box.

  No, I’m being paranoid. Of course she can’t see what I’m doing. Unless she installed a camera somewhere in my room. I scan my room, looking for a small camera. Stop it! I’m being silly. She didn’t put a camera in my room. I write back.

  TorItUp: Hey, Sea

  SiennasHeart: Whatcha doing?

  TorItUp: Just homework. You?

  SiennasHeart: TV. Survivor Season 9,365 I think. LOL.

  TorItUp: LOL.

  SiennasHeart: Talking to Sebastian?

  TorItUp: Not yet.

  SiennasHeart: You’re going to ask him if he can come to the dance Saturday, right?

  TorItUp: Of course.

  SiennasHeart: Good. I can’t wait to meet him!

  TorItUp: Can we chat later? I need to finish this work.

  SiennasHeart: Sure. See you tomorrow. TGIF!

  Yeah, she may be thanking God it’s almost Friday but I’m not. That only leaves me a day to find Sebastian and convince him to come to the dance with me.

  I return to my search results and click on page two. Oh, luck! Sebastian has a Buddiez page. I set up a page earlier in the summer but haven’t been on it too much since. I log on to it and click on Sebastian’s page. I click “Add Friend” and wait. And wait. And wait some more. I have this bad habit of thinking everyone is online at the exact time I am. He might not even be home. Maybe he’s on the school football team and he’s at practice right now. Or maybe he does volunteer work on Thursday afternoons. Or maybe he’s suddenly getting hundreds of friend requests with his new fame so it takes him longer to go through and accept them.

  Ugh. This isn’t working. What am I going to do?

  20

  Isn’t it strange how walking to homeroom can seem so much like walking to your own funeral? It’s never felt like this before, of course, but now that there are only thirty-six short hours until the school dance where I am to make Sebastian magically appear in the flesh, it’s feeling very funeral-y.

  I make myself walk into the classroom, clutching my books to my chest so hard that my knuckles are turning white. Everyone is already here. I waited until the last possible second to come in, hoping that doing so would cut down on the chatting and unavoidable questions about Sebastian.

  “Tori,” Avery yells, waving.

  Sea grins at me. “You’re just in time. We’re going over our outfits for tomorrow. I’m thinking of going with a concert tee, fitted black velvet vest, and my dark jeans.”

  “I’m wearing a pink minidress with my tall brown boots,” Natalie announces. “My mom is trying to make me wear tights too, but I’m fighting it.”

  “I’m wearing jeans and a sparkly silver sweater that belts around the waist. It’s new,” Avery adds.

  I nod and attempt a smile. “Your outfits sound great. I’m still not sure what I’m wearing.” Seriously? Clothes have got to be about the last thing on my mind. More like the tenth thing
after the last thing on my mind.

  “Want me to come over and help you pick something out?” Sienna asks.

  I’m temporarily speechless. She wants to help me pick out my outfit. Now? That’s where this whole mess started. She was supposed to help me pick out my outfit for the first day of school, but she was MIA. She couldn’t be bothered to call or e-mail or send a carrier pigeon. Nothing. Maybe if she’d just been there for me this summer I wouldn’t be in this huge gigantic lying mess. Argh!

  “Tori? You okay?” Sienna inquires. She’s giving me a truly concerned look.

  “Hmm?” I respond.

  “You spaced out or something there. I asked if you wanted me to help you pick out an outfit for the dance tomorrow,” Sea restates.

  You know, I never ditched Sea like she did me this summer. And it isn’t like the opportunity never arose. I still remember it like it was yesterday. It was the fifth-grade field trip to Springfield. Claire Philips and Tess Aimes asked if I wanted to sit in the back of the bus with them. They said Sienna couldn’t come though. It was a bad period in Sienna’s life. Her mom had cut her bangs way too short, and waiting for them to grow out was excruciating for her. Kids teased her. But not me. I’m a true friend. I said, “Hey, you don’t want my short-banged friend, then you don’t want me.” All right, maybe I’m remembering that a tad grander than it was. Actually, I think I shook my head no and slipped into the seat with Sienna in the middle of the bus. She gave me a grateful look and didn’t say a word. But know what? She didn’t need to. That’s what best friends do.

  “Tori,” Sea calls out, shaking my shoulder.

  “Oh, no. No thanks,” I reply. I straighten up in my seat, facing the front of the room. Where the heck is the bell? There is entirely too much talking time for my liking.

  “So, what did Sebastian say?” Sienna speaks to my back. “Is he coming to the dance?”