The Fake Out by Sharon M. Peterson
FIFTY-SIX
If you were a booger, I’d pick you first.
—MELANIE S.
Their questions came fast and furious. I couldn’t blame them. After all, I had a lot to explain. But I was still half stunned from Chris’s pronouncement.
My feelings are very real.
My brain refused to focus on anything except that. Even when Mama tapped me on my shoulder to get my attention.
“Maebell Sampson, you have a lot of explaining to do,” she announced, crossing her arms over her chest.
“I do,” I said. “I’ll explain everything.”
“I take back what I said about you being boring. This is a telenovela-level drama right here,” Iris said, her blue eyes round with respect. She held her fist out and I tapped it back without thinking.
“I think now is a good time to start.” Mama pointed to the recliner. “Sit. Start talking.”
And I would have, honest, but my phone vibrated with a text.
Dreamboat: Did you see it?
Heart pounding, my fingers shook as I typed back.
Me: Yes. I don’t know what to say.
Dreamboat: You don’t have to say anything yet. I’m on my way to you right now. I need to see you.
I shrieked, my heart pounding. “He’s coming here. Right now. What do I do?”
“How about put real clothes on?” Iris pointed at my sweatpants and oversized t-shirt.
“Great idea.” I grabbed her by her cheeks and planted a kiss on her forehead.
I rushed to my room and hunted through my closet, tossing more than half of it on my bed as discarded options. My mind raced, pulled in two directions at once. One part of me joyful, excited to see Chris, at even the remote possibility the two of us could figure out some way to be together. The other part was more logical. It twisted the situation around like a Rubik’s Cube, trying to see it from all angles, finding the problems that didn’t have easy solutions.
Finally settled on a blue dress with lace overlay and my trusty boots, I plopped on my bed and stared at the door and twisted my hands in my lap, trying, and failing, to get my thoughts under control.
Someone knocked on the door and I yelled, “Come in.”
“How are you doing?” Mama carefully made her way to sit beside me. “This is a lot to take in. I have so many questions.”
“I know,” I whispered. “I promise I’ll let you ask them all soon.”
She wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed. “You should be more excited. That boy loves you.”
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I picked at a stray string on my dress and pushed out the words. “I’m scared.”
Mama made a small noise of sadness. “Remember what I used to tell you when you were scared of the dark?”
I smiled. “Being scared is halfway to brave.”
“That’s right. So, it’s time you moved on to brave, Maebe.” She leaned over and kissed my cheek. “Things happen when you’re brave. Sometimes good, sometimes bad, but at least you’re moving toward something. I worry you’ve gotten so stuck in this life you’ve forgotten how to be brave.”
I blinked against my burning eyes. Maybe Mama was right. Being brave was all I had control over, really.
Someone shrieked in the living room. “He’s here. He’s here!”
Mama stood and tugged on my hand. “Come on, honey.”
I followed her but when I was almost at the door, Sue stopped me. “I’ll open the door. You just stand there and look pretty.”
The door opened and a hand jutted forward with three small bouquets of flowers. Chris stepped into the house and passed Mama, Sue, and Iris each one. “For you, ladies.”
Mama and Sue gushed over the flowers and the man. Iris shot me an expression that almost looked like excitement. My whole body vibrated as I waited for him to notice me.
“You are so sweet,” I heard Mama say.
But then I lost track of the conversation because a text message came through on my phone.
It was from my father, and it changed everything.