Fake Boyfriend - Kate Brian (5 page)

"Well, what's she doing? This isn't like her!"

"Maybe she's taking our advice. Trying to move on?" Vivi said hopefully, pushing back her sweatshirt sleeves.

"We have to write back," Lane told her. "She's waiting. If we don't write back, she's gonna feel rejected all over again."

"Okay." Vivi put her fingers on the keyboard. They were trembling. Lane's psychotic tension was rubbing off on her. If she screwed up, this plan would be over before it ever got off the ground. But if she said the right thing--whatever it was Isabelle needed to hear--everything could change for the better. "What do I say?"

"What would a guy say?" Lane asked, her hands clasped.

"I don't know," Vivi replied. "Contrary to some people's asinine jokes, I'm not one."

The clock at the bottom right corner of her screen clicked over from 11:31 to 11:32. Vivi's heart rate ratcheted up a notch. On the other side of town, Isabelle was staring at her computer screen, waiting for the perfect response.

"I can't take it!" Vivi blurted, backing away from the computer. "This is too intense!"

"Vivi! We have to do something!" Lane turned around in a circle like a dog looking for a spot to lie down, wringing her hands the whole way. Down the hall, Death Cab for Cutie blared out from tinny speakers. Lane suddenly stopped, facing the door. "Marshall!" she announced.

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"What?" Vivi demanded.

"Marshall's a guy!" Lane flew out of the room and down the hallway.

"That's debatable!" Vivi called, following her to the hall.

Lane walked right through the open door to Marshall's room and came back two seconds later, steering a pajama- clad Marshall toward Vivi by his shoulders.

"This is never gonna work," Vivi said, raising her hands-- even though she had no alternative in mind.

"Um, what's never gonna work?" Marshall asked warily.

Lane stopped him next to the desk and pulled out the chair. "Sit," she ordered.

"Why?" Marshall was understandably concerned.

"Lane. Marshall has more estrogen in his veins than I do," Vivi said.

"Estrogen isn't in your veins," Marshall corrected, rolling his eyes. "And I do not."

"And see? He's a complete brain! He's not Brandon," Vivi said.

"Brandon is a brain," Lane replied. "Smart guys are sexy."

"They are?" Marshall asked, brightening slightly.

"Not this one," Vivi muttered. "Marshall, please just sit?" Lane begged.

Marshall did as he was asked, though he still looked concerned. He kept his butt near the edge of the chair as if ready to bolt at any second. Like he could really make it out the door if Vivi wanted to stop him.

"We don't need him," Vivi said.

"Y we do. We need a guy to talk to her. We are not guys.

es,

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Marshall, however, is," Lane explained calmly and logically, her hands on her hips.

Vivi opened her mouth, but Marshall reached up and slapped his hand over it. "Don't say whatever you're thinking of saying."

Vivi rolled her eyes and turned away--her method of consenting to involving Marshall, however ill-fated the idea was.

Lane pressed her hands into the arms of the chair and looked Marshall in the eye. "Okay, here's the deal. We just made up a fake guy for Isabelle on MySpace and now she's IM-ING him. Y have to talk to her for us," Lane said.

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What little color there was in Marshall's face drained out of it. He glanced at the computer screen in fear, as if it were scrolling satanic messages. "Wait, if I type back, I'm typing to Isabelle?"

"Y And she's waiting," Vivi said, leaning in close to Marshall's face for emphasis.

es!

"Are you guys out of your minds?" Marshall asked, scooting back and looking back and forth between them.

"I think that's obvious, don't you?" Lane said. "Now please! Type!"

"Well... I ... who is this guy?" Marshall asked, sinking down into the chair slightly.

"He's a drummer. Very cool. Kind of monosyllabic and, you know, hot," Lane said.

"So your complete opposite," Vivi put in, cocking her head to the side.

"Vivi!" Lane said through her teeth. "But he's also smart,

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and well read. Just like you." Lane told him. "Please, Marshall? Pretty please?"

Behind her, Vivi scoffed. She couldn't believe she was letting this happen. But she knew that if she tried to IM with Isabelle, she would say something personal that would give her away, and she couldn't let that happen. Marshall was as good a choice as any. He'd barely ever said a word to Isabelle, anyway, so there was no way he could reveal himself.

"Fine," Marshall said finally, though he looked ready to hurl. "Monosyllabic, huh?"

"Y es!" Lane said.

Marshall cleared his throat and wiped his palms on his black sweatpants. He typed and hit send.

Brandon: I'm here.

"Well, I could have come up with that!" Vivi chided. "Shhhh!" Lane said.

IzzyBelly: Nothing to do in Connecticut on Fridays?

"Connecticut?" Marshall asked, looking at Lane for guidance.

"That's where he's from," Lane replied.

She sat down on the extra chair and pulled it closer to the desk. Vivi picked up her purple beanbag chair and dropped it next to Marshall, settling in on his other side. Marshall's fingers trembled as they hovered over the keys.

Brandon: Probably about as much as there is to do in Jersey. IzzyBelly: Touche. child)

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Vivi laughed and clapped her hands together. "She likes it!"

Both Marshall and Lane visibly relaxed.

"Still think this was a bad idea?" Vivi asked Lane, peeking around Marshall.

"We'll see," Lane said, trying to stifle a smile.

"Oh, please. Operation Skewer Sluttig is in full effect, and it was all me," Vivi said with a sniff, crossing her arms over her chest. "Geniuses are never appreciated in their own time."

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* * * * four * * * *

Lane pressed her lips together and checked out her gloss in her locker mirror, then smoothed the front of her new floaty, baby blue blouse from Anthropologic Normally she wouldn't wear something so special to school, but today, she had a date with Curtis. Well, not a date, exactly. They were studying for their Calc exam the next day. But they were going to walk home from school together and hang out until dinner, which was a nice chunk of one- on-one Curtis in one day. Her heart went all fluttery just thinking about it, and she had no idea how she was supposed to get through eight whole class periods. She felt like she might not actually be able to wait. Like she might spontaneously combust in the process.

"Lane!"

She flinched, feeling as if she'd been caught at something, then realized all she'd been doing was standing at her locker. Vivi barreled toward her, all bright eyes and smiles, paying

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no attention to the pack of freshmen who had to dodge out of her way to avoid being trampled. She was wearing her jeans and a fitted blue American Eagle hoodie, and her hair was smoothed back in a headband and brushed to a gloss. This was a good-mood outfit for Vivi. She never spent more than five minutes in front of a mirror unless she was in a very happy place.

"Hey! So, did you talk to Isabelle yet?" Vivi asked, leaning against the locker next to Lane's.

Lane smiled slightly. When Vivi was in the midst of a plan, it was pretty much all she talked about. All she thought about. Basically, the plan became her life.

"I talked to her last night," Lane told her blithely. Because she knew that being blithe and vague would drive Vivi crazy.

"Well? How did she sound? Did she mention Brandon?" Vivi whispered, glancing over her shoulder.

"Nope," Lane said, slowly taking her books out of her upper locker.

"No? Come on. Y ou've got to be kidding. She and Marshall IM'D all freaking weekend. I barely left my room, keeping an eye on him," Vivi said, turning around to kick her heel back against the lockers. "She's never going to get over that jackass, is she?"

Lane decided to take pity on her friend. "I haven't told you the good news yet, Viv."

Vivi's eyebrows shot up, and she turned and huddled toward Lane. "Good news? What good news?"

Lane leaned in, savoring the moment. "She didn't talk about Shawn either. Not one single word. No 'Will we get

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back together"' No 'Why hasn't he called me"' No 'Do you think he's with Tricia right now"' Nothing. And we were on the phone for at least an hour."

The news had its desired affect. Vivi's entire face lit up. "Not one word?" "Not one word."

Vivi laid her hand out to be slapped, and Lane slid her palm across it with a smirk. At first she had thought that Vivi's MySpace plan was ridiculous and fraught with potential disaster. But Isabelle had sounded good on the phone last night. Almost happy. And after more than a week of self-doubt and misery, hearing her friend laugh was enough to get Lane behind the Brandon plan. At least for now.

"Hey, girls!"

Lane and Vivi looked up to find Isabelle striding toward them. Her hair was neatly brushed, her makeup was in place, and she was wearing her favorite red top and cute floral skirt. Lane went giddy at the very sight of her.

"She's ba-ack," Vivi sang under her breath.

"She so is," Lane agreed.

"Come on," Isabelle said as she passed them by. "I need a bathroom run before homeroom."

Lane happily slammed her locker shut, and she and Vivi flanked Isabelle on their way down the hallway. They were almost to the bathroom door when Shawn Littig himself came around the corner, looking as bad-boy hot as ever, all unshaven and messy hair, wearing a beat-up long-sleeved thermal T- shirt. Lane's heart caught with nervousness at the

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sight of him, so she could only imagine what Isabelle's heart was doing. Vivi cursed under her breath.

"Hey, Belle," Shawn said, leaning against the wall and giving her his puppy dog eyes. This was how he always sucked Isabelle in. Playing the bad boy who was bad only because he was all tortured and needy.

This is it. This is where the whole plan goes to crap, Lane thought.

But Isabelle didn't stop. She simply breezed right by him, shoved open the bathroom door, and disappeared. Lane paused for a second, completely stunned, and glanced at Shawn over her shoulder. He looked as baffled as she was.

"That, my friend, is the Brandon Effect," Vivi said quietly.

"Impressive," Lane said.

"I know," Vivi said. "Maybe you'll start listening to my Curtis advice now."

Lane rolled her eyes as Vivi walked into the bathroom, but she was starting to wonder. Maybe Vivi was right about the Curtis situation. Maybe ... it was time to start listening to her best friend.

***

Lane walked toward the bleachers after school, her heart pounding against her rib cage, trying to get out. All day she'd been thinking about Vivi and Isabelle and Shawn and Brandon. All day she'd been psyching herself up to do the deed. To follow Vivi's advice. To open her mouth and just say it:

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"Wanna go to the prom with me?" About five minutes earlier, she'd been ready. She'd been absolutely, positively sure that she could do it. But now, seeing Curtis up ahead chatting with some of the guys, she knew the exact opposite was true.

There was no way she could do this. No way in hell.

But at least then you'll know, she told herself. At least then you can stop feeling so nauseated all the time.

Curtis spotted her and grinned, lifting a hand in greeting. Lane's heart soared.

"Just do it," she said under her breath. "Y can do it."

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"Hey, Lane!" Curtis said when she finally got close enough.

"Hey," she replied, smoothing a piece of her hair over her shoulder.

She was out of breath, and not from the walk. Behind him, a few of his friends bounced a basketball around on the outdoor court.

"Y ready to go?" she asked, consciously trying not to jump up and down.

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Curtis pressed his teeth together and cocked his head to the side. His floppy hair fell adorably across his eyes, and he smoothed it out of the way. "Actually, I can't."

Lane went hot with disappointment. "What do you mean?"

"I totally forgot I promised the guys I'd play three on three today," Curtis said, gesturing over his shoulder. "If I don't stay, they've got uneven teams."

"But what about the exam?" Lane said, feeling lame even saying it.

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"We still have tomorrow to study," he said. "I can cram."

Lane felt tears prickling behind her eyes, which made her feel like a total loser. And that just made her want to cry more. She'd been looking forward to this all day long. It was all she'd thought about. But clearly, Curtis didn't care about being with her one bit.

"Oh. Okay," she said finally, putting her hair behind her ears.

"Listen, I have a kind of huge favor to ask," he said.

"What's up?" Lane asked. Maybe the favor at least involved spending some time with him at some point this week.

"Can you ride my bike home for me?" Curtis asked, biting his lip winsomely. "Jeff's gonna drive me home later, and he just has his Mustang."

Lane glanced at his mountain bike, which was lying in the dirt nearby. Getting it home wouldn't be a major deal, considering they lived right next door to each other, but it wasn't exactly romantic.

"Lane?" Curtis prompted, bending a little to look her in the eyes.

"Oh, uh, sure," she said.

"I mean, unless you want to stick around and watch," Curtis suggested, grinning. "I could always use another cheerleader."

For a split second, Lane considered it. If he wanted her to stay, maybe she should. But then she looked over his shoulder and saw that Kim Wolfe and a few other girls from her class were already kicked back in the bleachers, chatting on cell phones and half-watching the guys. It wasn't like it was a special invitation. Apparently, lots of girls were involved.

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"Nah. That's okay," Lane said. "I should probably just go home and study."

"Y ou're gonna make me feel guilty," Curtis joked. He knocked her shoulder with his fist, and she smiled. Even when she was upset, he could so easily make her smile. "So you'll take the bike?"