Deception

Miranda's emerald William and Mary sweatshirt feels small, the armpit area riding up as I stretch my arms during Calculus. In Lori's and my former secret notebook, I write long messages to Kara and Miranda as Mr. Pederson gesticulates excessively. So far, math has been a breeze; we've done nothing but packets for months, the quizzes blank versions of the notes. Memorizing answers has never been so easy.

It's weird how friendships work; falling out seemed almost impossible among Lori, Riley and me, and yet the three of us have divided. It seems stupid for us to fight about something so petty; I don't understand why we can't apologize and be friends again.

Why can't things make sense?

That night, track practice does not go well. The cheerleaders spread out their legs, "stretching", while winter track runners start dynamics. Melanie glowers at me as I lean towards my left foot, her friends whispering. I roll my eyes.

"Who the hell does Melanie think she is?" Erin asks, stretching her legs with her rope. "I'm sorry about what happened in the lunch room. That was really bitchy of her."

I shrug, standing up. I don't want to be here if she's going to be here; I want to avoid as much fighting as possible.

But as I open the door to my car, I spot Melanie's thick hair, her plump lips pursed together. She leans against the hood of my Ford truck. "Look," she starts, thin eyebrows furrowed. "You better get this and quick. Gaskarth his mine, get it? Mine and no one else's. He's my singing bird, my sexy boy toy. He may act like he's interested in you, but he loves me most. So back off, girl, because if you don't, your life will not look too pretty." She whips back around, part of her skirt tucked into her black shorts.

Only the smartest, most talented girls walk around like that.

I hop into the truck and drive home, grunting in greeting to Dad and Liz. She frowns as she tugs Dad's arm, whispering something into her ear. Dad sighs. "Kaleb, you don't seem awfully happy today," he says, approaching the staircase. "And that's not your sweatshirt."

I shrug. "I was cold," I reply, trudging into my room. "And I'm fine."

I hear a faint "she's fine" from Dad, but Liz isn't satisfied. I hear thumping up the stairs and a polite knock on the door. "Kaleb, may I come in?" she asks, opening the door slightly. I roll my eyes as she slips in. She sits on my bed and motions for me to do the same.

"I'm fine. Really," I repeat, pulling at the sleeves of Miranda's sweatshirt; it must be a hand-me-down from her sister that shrunk in the wash.

"Honey, I know you and I don't have a particularly close relationship, but I really do want to get to know you. And I can tell when my girl is having a bad day." I stare at her. She clears her throat. "Anyway, sweetheart, I just want you to know I'm here for you, I really am. If you need any sort of help, just ask me, okay?" Liz smiles.

"Okay." My sweatshirt pocket buzzes.

"So, what's wrong, darling?" she asks, placing a hand on my knee gently. I stare at her hand. "Is it anything I can fix?"

"No." I replay in slow motion the tray smashing onto my shirt, the syrup and leftovers swirling together, creating a pasty mess. I feel my cheeks growing hot again, but I fight back my tears.

"Sweetie, it's okay. You can tell me; your dad doesn't have to know what we talked about," Liz says in a low voice. It's like she's trying to exploit me into telling her some juicy gossip.

"I'd rather not talk about it," I say, standing up. "It's nothing really serious anyway. I can deal with it on my own."

"Okay." She stands up, and before she exits, she has to slip in another piece of motherly advice. "You know Kaleb, it's not good to keep things bottled up inside."

I pull out my phone and notice that Alex has been texting me repeatedly:

sorry about what happened today. i know no amount of sorry will make you less upset, but at the very least, i'm sorry.

please don't be mad at me. it's my fault for flirting with her in english, but sometimes i don't even know i'm doing it. really sorry, kaleb.

please respond to my texts? your silence is scaring me.

i'm REALLY, REALLY sorry, kaleb. please forgive me?

Did he really think I was mad at him?

I search for Alex's number in my contacts and call him immediately, hoping he'll pick up. After one and a half rings, I hear a desperate "hello?" on the line.

"Hey," I start, locking the door to my room. "I'm not mad at you."

"...You're not pulling one of those 'I'm saying I'm not mad at you, but I'm actually mad at you' things, are you?" he asks cautiously.

"No."

"I'm not sure if I believe you."

"Look, I'm angry about what happened, but I don't think it's your fault. I think Melanie just flipped out. And she threatened me today." If only I had said something to her that was at the very least semi-vicious.

"Well, I have to tell you, I'm quite the flirt." I hadn't noticed. "But it's just how I am; I can't stop flirting with people. I don't mean to. Besides, some girls become obsessive and possessive."

"Do I fall under this category?" I ask, hearing Dad shout for me to come down to dinner.

"No! God, no, Kaleb. I thought you believed me the day I sat with you in my car and..."

"Say it, Gaskarth. Spit it out."

"I can't call it love, but I do like you." He pauses.

"I wouldn't call it love either."

In fact, I don't know what to call it.