Page 49 of The Fake Out

I nodded, my face growing hot. “Yeah.”

“The Chris Sterns?”

“Yes, that one.”

With the back of her hand pressed to her forehead, Ali collapsed against her seat. “But… but how? When?”

I shrugged and stuffed a bit of chicken in my mouth to avoid talking.

She blinked slowly before a wide grin overtook her face. Ali had a big smile normally, but this was her special smile, the Danger Smile, I called it. She was thinking things when she smiled that smile. Usually, it leads to questionable situations that often lead to, well, danger.

“I knew he was into you. He’s been asking me all kind of questions about you and…” Suddenly, she gasped. “YOU ARE GOING TO MAKE OUT WITH CHRIS STERNS.”

And now the entire café had gone silent.

“Ali!” I whisper-screamed and cradled my forehead on my hand.

She winced and had the decency to look apologetic. Half-standing, she waved at the restaurant, which mostly consisted of the regular bunch of old men and chess boards. “Nothing to see here, people. Just ignore us.”

I groaned. “I can’t believe you.”

Ali soldiered on, disregarding my embarrassment. “How did you… I mean… oh, I don’t even care. But you had better call me, text me, send a smoke signal, whatever, as soon as you get home tonight. The very second. Do you understand?”

“Okay. Okay.”

“What are you wearing? Something that shows off your legs. Don’t wear any of those librarian t-shirts. Or that ugly jacket with the weird stripes on the sleeves.”

I liked that jacket. “What if I get cold?”

“Duh.” The look she gave me could only be described as incredulous. “You’ll have a big strong man to warm you up.”

“Oh, right.” I was positive my face was on fire.

Ali winked. “Now we’re talking.”

TWENTY

Wanna be my date to my wedding?

—KERI

Mama, Iris, and Sue were waiting for me when I got home. The three of them sat side by side on the couch, facing the front door. The television wasn’t even on. I guessed I was the entertainment. The thing about small towns is that news travels fast, gossip faster. So, when your best friend yells about your evening plans at lunchtime, you can assume your family knows by dinner.

I should have remembered that.

“Hi.” I slowly slid out of my shoes and put my purse down.

Iris scooted over to make a space between her and Mama, a space Mama patted. “Come sit with us, Mae.”

I bet this is what the victims of the Inquisition felt like. Except, you know, higher stakes.

I sat.

“Honey,” Mama said, putting a hand on my knee and squeezing. “How are you?”

“Yeah, how are you?” Iris repeated with a smirk.

“Got any big plans tonight?” Sue asked.