The Trouble with Faking

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

What am I doing? I can’t lie like this. Sure, I’ve never been one to share deeply personal matters, but I don’t lie to people. I simply choose not to tell them things I don’t think they need to know. My friends at school knew I was an only child raised by a single mother, but I never let them know she refused to tell me anything about my father. Damien was aware that I didn’t know who my father was, but he never knew how deeply I longed to discover the truth about the man my mother wouldn’t speak of. And I was okay with keeping information from those people. That’s allowed, right, as long as I’m not lying?

But now this? This great big deception? Fooling everyone into thinking we’re together? Fooling Damien into thinking I’m helping him get Marie when I’m actually hoping he’ll fall for me instead? This is not me.

My body starts to remember that I’m exhausted from too little sleep and too much sun, and my steps slow before I’m even halfway across the parking lot. I stop at the rectangular block of stone at the top of the steps leading down to Rugby Road. I climb onto it, tuck my legs beneath me, and stare at the sparkling city lights. I’m lucky enough to have this view from my bedroom window in Fuller. Sometimes I open the window wide and lean out of it, but it isn’t the same as being outside and feeling the fresh air all around me.

Don’t do this, a quiet voice whispers within me. Tell him the truth.

I know my internal voice is right. But I still don’t know if there’s any point in telling Damien a truth he doesn’t want to hear. A truth that will mean the end of our comfortable friendship.

The pretend relationship is still a bad idea, the voice whispers.

I hold my hand over my mouth and yawn a never-ending yawn. I know the voice is right. Faking a relationship isn’t the right way to get Damien to notice me. And that’s why I’ll be telling him to forget about it the next time I see him.

“Wow. This is AMAZING.” Livi, the half-sister I found out about last year when I accidentally discovered my real father, steps into my res room with wide eyes and her mouth hanging open. She stands in the middle of the room and stares at all the things I managed to fit in here.

A mound of colourful cushions covers my bed, and since the curtains are so dull, I hung colourful shawls up to cover them. I keep the shawls tied open with ribbons during the day, but now, in the evening, they’re drawn closed with fairy lights hanging behind them. More fairy lights are strung across three of the walls, and paper bunting decorates the fourth. The bookcase that was here when I moved in has been filled with my favourite books, and beside it stands a tall plastic storage cabinet, the drawers of which are filled with craft supplies. A second, smaller bookcase houses files—empty at the moment—a kettle, and some mugs and glasses. On the desk stands my laptop, several jars of stationery, a lamp, and a few more piles of books. The last item of furniture is an old armchair, and that, too, is covered by a colourful shawl.

“Did your mom help you do all this?” Livi asks.

“Oh, gosh, no. This isn’t her style at all. She’s all about the clean, fresh, modern look. This is way more …”

“Cosy.”

“Yes.” I smile at her. “Exactly.”

“And just a little bit magical.” She walks to one side of the room and examines the bunting. “Are these triangles cut from the pages of books?”

“Yes. My mom was cleaning out her shelves one day and discovered she had three copies of Romeo and Juliet. She threw out two of them, so I rescued them from the bin and made bunting.”

“So cool,” Livi murmurs, standing on tiptoe to read some of the words. “How did you get all this stuff to Cape Town?”

“Well, you know, that car I got for Christmas has been pretty useful.”

“Oh, of course.” She turns to me with a grin. “How’s it going with the new car? I mean, the second-hand-but-new-to-you car.”

“I love it. How’s it going with your second-hand-but-new-to-you car?”

“It’s amazing.” She holds her hand up so I can high-five her. “Thank you, Dad, for the guilt gift.”

I scrunch up my nose. “I try not to think of it as a guilt gift and more of an eighteen-years-worth-of-birthdays-and-Christmases gift.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Livi plops onto the bed. “I think mine was more of a guilt gift. He couldn’t very well give you a car and not me.”

I sit next to her and kick my shoes off. “Well, thanks for coming to visit. It’s nice to see you again. Skype is cool, of course, but in person is always better.”

“Definitely.” She nudges my arm. “So how’s it going here? Orientation and friend-making and all that?”

“Pretty good. I like being away from home. I would have gone crazy if I’d stayed there much longer. And friends … well, I made friends with the girl whose room is opposite mine. Carmen. I’d introduce you, but she’s out visiting one of her five hundred family members.”

“Right. Big family. Not something I’m familiar with.”

I push myself back against the cushions. “Me neither.” It was only ever my mom and me, and sometimes a distant relative or two on special occasions.

“Are you aware that you have two different socks on?” Livi asks, tilting her head to the side.

“Yes.”

“Okay. And are you still madly in love with The Boy Next Door?”

My skin heats up, and butterflies come to life inside me. Livi’s the only one who knows how I feel about Damien. I kept that secret from everyone for so long, but I was starting to feel like I might burst, and as both an outsider and a sister, I figured it was safe to tell Livi. “I am.” I drop my head back onto the cushions and sigh. “And now that he lives only a parking lot away, I’m dreaming of him even more.”

“You know it’s Valentine’s Day tomorrow, right?” Livi says, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yes.” I’m very aware of the fact that tomorrow is the night Damien and I are supposed to kick off our fake relationship plan. I haven’t seen him since the night I came up with this terrible idea, which means I haven’t had a chance to tell him we shouldn’t do it. For some reason, I feel like I can’t say it in a text message.

“Well,” Livi says, forming a heart shape with her thumbs and forefingers and peering through it at me, “perhaps tomorrow’s the day your dreams will come true.”

Laughing, I push her hands away and sit up. “Okay. Help me decide what to wear for the Valentine’s Dance tomorrow night. Maybe if I wear something amazing, Damien will finally see me as potential girlfriend material.”