Fate Book (3 page)

Dax chuckled under his breath, and Janice shot him a nasty look before turning her toxic gaze to me. “Let’s get to writing, shall we, Dakota?”

Crap.
What would I do now? I had to write an essay about what I’d done over break, and if I didn’t retell the outrageous lie I’d just told, then Janice would have a field day. On the other hand, if I did write those lies and read them to the class, everyone would know I’d made them up. It was completely implausible for me to have a boyfriend.

Ugh.
Where had those lies come from? What had possessed me to make up that garbage? I mean…really!
Idiot. You’re an idiot, Dakota.

Doing everything in my power not to look at Dax or anyone else, I got up and left.

~ ~ ~

After driving around for an hour and ignoring ten text messages from Mandy, asking what had happened, I finally landed at Starbucks in the next burb over. I couldn’t stand to face anyone I knew.
What a moron!
Wait. No. That was too good for me. Freak of nature. Yes, that fit. Again, I couldn’t understand what had come over me. I’d been possessed by the demon of obnoxious lies.

Now what would I do? Deny I’d said those things? After, like, ten people overheard me? I pulled out my notebook with the handmade leather jacket—the one my dad had sent me on my sixteenth birthday—and scribbled way. Sometimes writing down my thoughts helped me sort things out.

Options:

Jump off bridge?
No. Not my style.

Run away to an exotic island?
No passport.

Witness protection program? Ugh.
Would have to find a horrible crime to witness—not so easy.

I sighed. Maybe my parents would let me change schools? That would work, right? Except that the other schools in the district were still in Janice territory since she and her cheer-demons belonged to the same cheer-demon club and practiced together. And there was no way my parents would let me change with only eight weeks to go.

Maybe it would all blow over and be forgotten tomorrow?

My phone buzzed again. Another text from Mandy.

Why didn’t you tell me you had a boyfriend who’s a model? And you’re training for the Olympics? I heard you broke the world record running to ur car!

Oh Lord. Now the lie had wings! And a tail! By morning, it would have antennae and, perhaps, a pair of snappy shoes!

Christ almighty. Haven’t I suffered enough?
I thought, looking up at the industrial-style ceiling and trying to hold back tears.

Okay. Think this through.
I’d said that everything happened in the Hamptons. That was way on the other side of the country, so it’s not like anyone could check the facts or anything. Maybe after a few days it would all die down.

My phone buzzed again, and I read the message.
Dang it! No!

According to Mandy, who followed Janice’s “twitting,” Janice had posted a pic of me.

Oh no! What now?
The picture loaded, and there wasn’t a gasp loud enough to capture my anguish. Her note said, and I quote, “Dakota’s new man and her Hampton friends.”

The picture was of a pack of grungy hyenas tearing at a piece of meat.

Why couldn’t she leave me alone? Why did she hate me so much? I swear, there was something wrong with that girl. It simply wasn’t natural to loathe someone as much as she loathed me for no goddamned reason.

Then I had an idea. A terrible idea. I scribbled it down and stared at the words, letting them infuse my mind while the world zoomed by in fast motion.

Don’t do it, Dakota. Don’t do it,
said that little voice inside my head.

But I wasn’t listening.

Head spinning and heart pounding, I took a long sip of my mochaccino and then pulled my laptop from my backpack. What I did next is something I’m not proud of, and I won’t ever try to justify it, because there is no justification. I knew, even as I did it, regret would follow. Someday. But sometimes, you just reach your limit and stoop to a level you didn’t know existed inside you. You take a bad situation and make it worse. You give in to the
other
voice inside your head that tells you just this once, just this once you have to be bad in order to prove a point.

I am going to hell for this.

But I wasn’t hurting anyone, so would I really? I wasn’t stealing, or cheating on a test. I was simply going to lie about having a really, really hot boyfriend. One that would make Janice and her friends feel like they were dating my leftovers.

I frantically searched for the picture of the most gorgeous guy I could find.
Bingo!

I sucked in a breath of worship and studied every masculine inch. Tall, perfect abs, sculpted chest, smooth olive skin, dark eyes, and slightly unkempt black hair falling about his face just so. He was the embodiment of my dream man: seductive, strong, confident, and mysterious. There was something about him that had me instantly fantasizing—who was he? Where was he from? What did his voice sound like?

And his eyes. There was an angry look about them.

Haunted. He’s haunted by something.

Ugh. You’re an idiot. He’s a model. He’s probably thinking about a sandwich. Or doing sit-ups.

Well, now he’s thinking about you
. I saved the picture to my hard drive, created the new profile, and uploaded the image to Facebook.

CHAPTER FIVE

Wednesday.

The next morning, I rolled over in bed and groaned at the window. It was overcast, which always put me in a gloomy mood. It also made me want to stay in my bed where I felt safe and warm.

I lay there half-awake, half in a dream, staring blankly at my whitewashed antique desk in the corner, from which the blank screen of my laptop stared back, beckoning me to charge it.

Laptop!

I sprang from the bed. “No! Please, please, please tell me I didn’t do it!” That regret I’d been expecting came a little sooner than I’d hoped.

I fished my phone from my purse on the floor and tapped the app with the big
F
. As the little spinning doughnut danced on my screen, I made a small prayer to the gods of stupidity and asked for forgiveness.

I tapped my Friends page and waited for it to load.

Oh no. Eight.
Yesterday, I’d had seven friends—Mandy and a few other random people who I wouldn’t exactly call friends. More like people with common interests in saving dogs at kill shelters. But today there was one new name.

The bottom of my world fell out.
Oh no. I did it.

Santiago Asturias II from Barcelona, Spain, officially tagged as “boyfriend.”

Had my mochaccino been roofied? What in the world made me think I could pull a gorgeous photo off the Internet and pass him off as my boyfriend?

I hit my forehead. “Hell is too good a place for me.” Couldn’t I have at least picked an ugly guy? Oh, but noooo. I picked the hottest man ever to exist. Yes! A man! And no way was he close to my age!

All would not have been so lost if I’d not also made my profile public and connected it to Twitter right before I posted @Jgirl
Bite me, Janice Jensen.

I knew she’d see it. I knew she’d want to retaliate. I knew she’d go to my Facebook page and check out my friends.

I covered my face.
Why, why, why did I get myself into this mess?
Because, hand-on-Bible truth? This was so not me. Not. Me. I’d never been the sort of person to lie my way through an issue. Once, when I was seven, I took a sneak peek inside the big red box under the Christmas tree. It was a new dollhouse. When my mother asked me who’d opened the present, I lied. I’d felt so guilty that I wrote Santa a letter stating—one hundred times—that I would never lie again. Never lie again, never lie again, never…

Sorry, Santa, I guess I broke
that
promise.

My cell vibrated. Another text from Mandy.
Where r u?

I sighed.
Dying on the inside.

What happened?

Janice
, I replied.

She’s saying terrible things about you.

“Welcome her to the club,” I said as tweets rolled in. Apparently five other egg-faced people I’d never met were also saying “terrible things.”
How odd.

I deserve it
, I responded.

So, no supermodel boyfriend?
she asked.

No.

Too bad. He’s way hot.

U saw him?

Everyone saw him. Janice tweets and Instagrams like a pro.

What do I do?
I asked, once again feeling eternally grateful for Mandy’s friendship. Notice how she hadn’t judged me. And given her intelligence, she’d probably deduced the reason behind my ridiculous yet uncharacteristic behavior.

Several minutes passed without a reply, and then…

People will forget. Eventually
.

Eventually? Eventually? Pfff…
Not likely. This stupid move would follow me to the grave. This was not how I’d envisioned beginning the journey into adulthood!

I tapped my finger on the side of the phone. I had no choice but to face “people” and not let it break me. For sure, though, I’d learned one valuable lesson: I would never lie again. I was better than this.

I threw on a sweatshirt and jeans before trudging off to the bathroom. I wrangled my red curly mop into a sloppy ponytail, brushed my teeth, and glared at the girl staring back.

Loser.

I took off my clothes and crawled back into bed. If I couldn’t face myself, how could I face anyone else?

~ ~ ~

Thursday.

“Times up, Dakota!”

My mother pulled down the blanket and rolled me off the bed onto the floor with a thump.

“Ow!” I tried to return to my sanctuary of sadness, but she grabbed me by the earlobe and yanked me up.

“I know you’re not sick. You are going to school today, young lady.”

I tried to twist away, but the woman had a grip of iron. “I’m not going.”

She shuffled me toward my private bathroom. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you’re not spending the rest of your life in bed, hiding out. I didn’t raise a coward.”

She may not have raised me like that, but I’d ended up a coward anyway.

I looked at her out of the corner of my eye. “I screwed up.”

She let go. “Christ, Dakota. You’re pregnant? Why didn’t you tell me?” She lowered her head and covered her face with both hands. “I should’ve guessed.”

“What? No! Oh my God.”

Her eyes opened up like giant balloons. “Drugs! Damn it, Dakota! Haven’t you heard enough horror stories from me? And you’re eighteen now. Do you have any idea what’ll happen if they catch you? ”

“No, Mom, I’m not pregnant. I’m not on drugs. Although, I’d really love a very strong tranquilizer…for you!”

Spite flickered in her eyes. “Then what? Why are you acting like this?”

I sighed. “I lied and everyone knows it.”

She stared at me. “Lied. To a teacher? Your principal?”

I shook my head. “I wish.” I let out a long breath and sat on the bed. “I told everyone I am seeing this guy, but I’m not.”

She laughed.

“What?” I spat. Was it so hard to believe, even for my own mother?

“I’m relieved.”

“Nice,” I said.

“Think of it from my standpoint. You’ve been a model daughter. Good grades. No rebelling. Responsible. I kept wondering when my luck would run out. And now, you’re saying you lied to a few friends about a boy?”

“Mom! This is serious!”

“Right. You’re telling an ER nurse who watches mothers lose their kids to drunk drivers or drug ODs that this little issue is serious?”

Okay.
When she put it like that…

“Maybe I am being petty,” I admitted. “But you have no idea what I’ve been through. Those girls are complete, fucking bitches.”

“Dakota! Watch that tongue.”

“What? Like you don’t use those words?”

She smiled. “Of course I do. I’m a nurse. But I’d never use them with my mother. If she were alive.”

Touché.
“Sorry.”

“Listen, baby. Whatever you did, you can’t run forever. Just treat it like a Band-Aid and rip that thing off. If that doesn’t go well, focus on the fact that it’s the end of the school year. You’ll be off to San Diego in the fall, studying pre-law, and high school will be nothing but a distant memory.”

As usual, she was right; my dream of going away to college was just around the corner, and I couldn’t wait. It had been my mental sanctuary for years, the Promised Land where I could be geeky and academic and finally start living my life. This immature high school world of drama and popularity contests would evaporate the moment the principal slapped that diploma in my hand. Bottom line, none of this stuff really mattered, except for the grades. That didn’t mean, however, that these final weeks weren’t going to suck monkey balls.

“Bring me a few gallons of ice cream tonight?” I asked.

She hugged me. “Sure. Now get your ass to school.”

~ ~ ~

When I pulled into the entrance of the parking lot, it was drizzling and four minutes to the bell.

“What? Come. On!” It looked like two jocks were fighting over something—
the size of their tiny straps?—
and the cars had stopped to watch, creating a giant logjam. Oh well. Not like I was in a hurry to face Janice.

I glanced toward the school’s overhang, relieved to see Mandy in her usual spot. She made a sympathetic little wave as if trying to assure me all would be okay. Earlier, I’d shot her a text, letting her know I was returning to hell school, ready to face the fiery inferno of my sins. She’d replied with a simple happy face, and now it was her real happy face providing me the fortitude I needed.

My heart raced, knowing that today would be the most humiliating day of my life, and there was no getting around it. Served me right. I’d stooped to Janice’s level, and now I’d pay the price.