Secrets and Lies Read online

  MAYBE WE CAN WATCH THIS TOGETHER SOMETIME.

  I felt myself starting to tear up and closed the case with the note inside. Then I turned my attention to the other box. A small square one. Inside, I found a bracelet—a thin gold chain. And next to it was a tiny cloth drawstring bag. I took it out and poured the contents into my hand. Half a dozen little gold charms fell into my palm. I looked closer and realized they were all abbreviations. There was OMG, a WTF—a slew of others, all of which I’d said in front of Toby. Except one.

  ILY.

  I Love You.

  I held the charm in my hand, tracing the letters with my finger. I smiled, thinking of Toby and all those times he’d teased me about the abbreviations. But maybe he sort of liked them. Deep down. Or maybe he just liked me.

  I reached for my phone and started to call him, but then—I couldn’t. I put the phone down and fell back on my bed with a sigh. I was too scared to call him. What would I say? Hey, I finally told the truth about us after I broke your heart. Want to forgive me now? It didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem like enough.

  I attached the charms to the chain, one by one, remembering each time I’d said the abbreviation in front of him. Then I just started remembering us, reliving the past few weeks in my head. Talking about flat tires and third wheels at that first party. Seeing the French film at Cindependent. My clumsy attempts to be sexy in his room. Every memory made me smile or laugh or blush.

  I slid the ILY on last.

  I liked him so much. So much that it hadn’t even been twenty-four hours, and I missed him. Apologizing over the phone wasn’t enough. I needed to see him.

  But I didn’t see Toby. Not for several days. Before, it seemed like I ran into him everywhere I went, but now it was the opposite. He was nowhere to be seen. Or maybe he was avoiding me.

  “Just go over there,” B said a few days after Christmas. She was still a little annoyed with me for keeping the whole thing a secret, but she’d mostly gotten over it. Now she was annoyed at me for other reasons. “I’m getting so sick of you whining about this. If you want to see him, go to his house.”

  “I’m too scared,” I admitted. “What if he’s not there and his parents know what happened and they hate me?”

  “Oh my God,” B groaned.

  “I’m serious, B,” I said. “Last time I saw him he was really upset with me. I don’t want to just go over there and… I don’t know. It needs to be something bigger. I need to show him how I feel.”

  “You need a grand gesture?” B asked, laughing.

  “Yes!”

  “Uh… I was kidding. But okay.”

  “Kidding about what?” Jess asked as she walked into Bianca’s bedroom. “Your dad let me in. I hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course,” B said. “And you’re just in time. Casey needs to plan a big romantic gesture for Toby.”

  “Oh, fun!” Jess exclaimed, clapping her hands together. I guess B had already filled her in about the whole Toby situation. “I love big romantic gestures. Do you know where you want to do it yet? Or when?”

  I shook my head. “I haven’t really—”

  “What about New Year’s Eve?” she suggested. “At the Nest. There’s going to be a big party, and I bet he’ll be there. Everybody will. And what’s more romantic than the Nest?”

  “A lot of things,” B muttered.

  “Jess, that’s kind of perfect,” I said. I looked down at the bracelet on my wrist, the tiny gold letters catching the light. “New Year’s Eve… I think I have an idea. But I need some paint.”

  ***

  “Where is he?” I asked. “Jeanine said he’d be here.”

  “I’m sure he’s coming,” Jess said. “Now stop biting your nails. I just painted them.”

  “Sorry. I’m just really nervous.”

  “I know.” She gave me a one-armed hug. “You look gorgeous, though.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey.” B slipped into the booth across from us, holding a glass of Cherry Coke, her usual. “He’s here. I just saw his car pull up outside.”

  “OMG.” I took a deep breath. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”

  “Don’t forget your sign,” Jess said, pulling the large piece of cardboard from under the table and handing it to me.

  I swallowed. Hard. “Wish me luck.”

  “You don’t need it,” B said. “Or the sign.”

  “I like the sign,” Jess said.

  “It’s cheesy.”

  “It’s sweet!”

  “Guys!” I interrupted. “I’m using the sign. Just, please, say good luck or break a leg or something?”

  “Good luck,” Jess said.

  “Break a leg,” B offered.

  “Thank you.”

  I felt myself shaking as I lugged my cardboard sign out to the middle of the dance floor, weaving between grinding couples and shimmying singles. I could feel everyone staring at me, giving me questioning, confused looks. And they hadn’t seen anything yet.

  “OMG, OMG, OMG,” I whispered. “Here goes nothing.” And I picked the sign up and held it over my head.

  My arms shook as I watched the door, waiting for Toby to walk inside. All around me I saw people’s lips moving, mouthing the letters on the sign: ILTT. Then blank looks before they turned and whispered to their friends. I could hear a few of them.

  “What is she doing?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Didn’t she used to be a cheerleader or something?”

  I bit my lip and just kept watching the door.

  Finally, he walked inside. I felt my heart speed up as my whole body went into panic mode. What if he was still upset? What if this wasn’t enough? What if he thought I was a cheesy idiot and was embarrassed to be seen with me? Every possible negative thought ran through my head as I watched Toby glance around the room, looking for an empty table, and then…

  Then he saw me.

  For a second it felt like everything had frozen. People were still dancing. The music was still playing. But neither Toby nor I moved. He was looking at me—at the huge sign over my head—and standing so still he could have been made of stone. And maybe I was, too, because a second later I had to remind myself to breathe.

  Finally, he started walking toward me. It seemed to take him forever to make his way through the crowd, but eventually he was there, in front of me, and I… I had no idea. Luckily, he spoke first.

  “ILTT,” he said.

  “Yeah.” I lowered the sign, holding it at waist level. “ILTT.”

  “And that means…?”

  “I like Toby Tucker,” I said. “Or… I love Toby Tucker, maybe. I don’t know.” My face was on fire, so I turned away, unable to look him in the eyes. I was so embarrassed and nervous that I just wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.

  It took him a second to say anything, which just made it that much worse. But then I felt a hand next to mine as Toby reached out and gripped the top of the sign. I took a chance and looked at him. He was smiling.

  “You know,” he said. “I think that’s an abbreviation I can get behind.”

  A smile broke across my face and I laughed, so happy and relieved. He laughed, too. I dropped the sign and wrapped my arms around him. And his were around me. And I don’t think either of us wanted to let go. I pulled back a little, just enough to kiss him. It wasn’t a sloppy, grope-y, eww-not-in-public kiss. It was simple and sweet, and I wanted it to last forever.

  “Save some for midnight!”

  Reluctantly, Toby and I pulled apart. Wesley was walking through the crowd, carrying a couple cans of soda. He waved as he passed us, then headed toward the booth where I’d left B and Jess.

  “So,” Toby said. “He knows. Does that mean…?”

  “Bianca knows. And she’s actually okay with it. I should’ve told her sooner. I shouldn’t have kept you a secret. I’m sorry.” I let out a breath. “But now she knows. Everybody knows.”

  “I suppose they do,” he said. “Th
anks to your sign. I wasn’t expecting that, by the way.”

  “Oh, you haven’t seen the back!” I bent down to pick up the cardboard. “I have another abbreviation you might like.” I flipped it over and held it up to my chest so he could see the other side.

  “TTFP,” he read.

  “Yep. Toby Tucker For President. I figure I’ll be making a lot of these in twenty years or so. I should get started now.”

  He chuckled. “You’re ridiculous.”

  “But that’s why you like me, right?”

  “Perhaps.” He smiled and tapped the sign. “I need one that says ILCB, I guess.”

  “I’ll get on that.” I leaned forward and kissed him again. “Now, come on. Everyone at the booth is totally staring at us and waiting to know what happened.” I tucked the sign under my arm and grabbed his hand, and we made our way to the table where my friends were waiting.

  “And here comes the happy couple,” Wesley said as Toby and I squeezed into the booth next to Jess. He reached across the table and extended his hand to Toby. “Nice to see you again.”

  “You too,” Toby said, shaking Wesley’s hand.

  “It’s so nice everyone can be so civil,” Jess said. “I mean, considering Wesley walked in on Bianca and Toby making out that one time and then Bianca dumped Toby to be with—”

  “Okay,” B said very loudly. “Time to change the subject.”

  Toby was on top of it. “What’s everyone’s New Year’s resolutions?” he asked.

  “Mine is to call home more often,” Wesley said. “I’m not the best at keeping in touch. Oh, and to—”

  “If you tell them the other one, I will kill you,” B said.

  “Why? What is it?” Jess asked, puzzled.

  “It must be something dirty,” I said.

  “It is,” B said. She looked at Wesley. “And it’s never going to happen.”

  He made a face of mock disappointment. “You break my heart, Bianca Piper. Speaking of things that’ll never happen, tell them yours.”

  “Shut up. It’ll happen.”

  “Oh, what’s yours, Bianca?” Jess asked.

  “I’m going to curse less.”

  Every. Single. One of us burst out laughing.

  “What?” B demanded. “I can do it. I’m not that profane.”

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Sure…. And you, Jess?”

  She sighed dramatically. “I’m going to get over Harrison Carlyle. I think it’s time I move on…. Guys, I think he might be gay.”

  I opened my mouth, about to remind her that we’d been trying to tell her that for years, but she looked so disappointed that I couldn’t make myself do it. So I just patted her on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Jess. It’s his loss. He’ll never find someone with shinier hair than yours.”

  She gave me a small smile.

  “What about you, Casey?” Toby asked. “Are you going to cut back on the abbreviations?”

  “No,” I said. “I kind of like them. Especially the new ones—like ILTT.” He blushed. I shook my head. “No, my resolution is to stop with the secrets. I think that should be all of ours.” I looked at B and Jess. “This year has been full of lies and secrets, and it sucks. So, no more. No secrets from one another this year.”

  “I can drink to that,” B said, raising her glass of Cherry Coke.

  “Me too,” Toby said.

  We all lifted our glasses of soda. “To no secrets,” I said. “Or lies.”

  “No secrets or lies,” they repeated. And we all drank.

  It was the best New Year’s I’d had in a long time. We all hung out and laughed and danced. But there was a thought in the back of my mind. A small hole letting the air seep out of my happy balloon.

  “We go back to college in two weeks,” I told Toby while we danced to a slow song. “What are we going to do then?”

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “You’re, like, a million states away—”

  “That’s a bit of an exaggeration.”

  “—and we’ll be long distance. I’m nervous.”

  He tightened his arm around my waist and kissed me on the cheek. “We’ll figure it out,” he said. “It won’t be easy—we both know that—but we’ll take it as it comes.”

  I nodded. “Okay.”

  “You know, I’m not superstitious,” he said. “But they say whomever you kiss at midnight on New Year’s will be with you all year.”

  “Didn’t you kiss your ex last year, though? That girl you dated before B—Nina, right? That didn’t turn out so well.”

  “I didn’t, actually. She was in Florida with her parents. Who did you kiss?”

  “No one. I spent the night at Bianca’s.”

  The music stopped and Joe, the pseudo-bartender of the underage club, came over the speakers. “Time for the countdown. Here we go. Ten… nine…”

  Toby smiled at me. “Want to be superstitious?” he asked.

  “Seven… six…”

  I laughed. “Okay. Let’s be superstitious.”

  “All right.”

  “Four… three… two… one… Happy New Year!”

  The place exploded with shouts and cheers and whistles.

  And I kissed Toby Tucker.

  People Worth Knowing

  Chapter One

  When I made the cheerleading squad last August, I thought I was set for the next four years. I thought that was all it took to be one of the popular girls at Hamilton High. I thought things would be simple after that.

  If only.

  “Mom!” I ran down the stairs, my bare feet slipping on the hardwood. “Mom!”

  “In the kitchen, Bailey.”

  I hurried through the dining room and turned the corner to find Mom standing by the counter, pouring a mug of coffee. She was already dressed in a navy suit and heels.

  “Mom, is there clean laundry? Have you washed anything of mine?”

  “Not since last week. Why?”

  I groaned and buried my face in my hands.

  “Bailey, sweetheart, what’s the matter?”

  “I don’t have anything to wear,” I whined.

  “That is ridiculous,” Mom said. “You have plenty of clean clothes. What about that dress Greg bought you for Christmas?”

  “I can’t wear that to school,” I told her. “Have you seen it? It’s floral! And lace!”

  “I thought it was really pretty.”

  “Everyone would laugh at me.”

  Mom sighed. “Well, I don’t know what to tell you. You’ve got clothes upstairs—plenty of them. I’m sure you’ll find something.” She put down her mug of coffee and looked at me, hard. My brother called it her “lawyer look.” He said it was the face she used to intimidate people on the stand. “And, Bailey.” Her voice was calm but firm. “Check your attitude, okay? If your stepfather heard you say that about the dress it would really hurt his feelings.”

  “Sorry,” I said, lowering my head.

  “Go get dressed. The bus will be here soon.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I swear, I haven’t always been like this. I mean, I’ve always liked fashion, but I didn’t used to be so… my brother calls it “self-absorbed.” But I kind of have to be. Being a cheerleader didn’t make things simpler—it made them more complicated. Way more complicated. Because now people were paying attention. And it was ten times easier to ruin your reputation than to build it. So I had to watch every step I made. Every word I said.

  Every outfit I wore.

  I ended up going with a pair of dark-blue jeans and a white cotton tank top.

  “Honey, it’s March,” Mom said when she saw me waiting at the front door for the bus. “You’re going to freeze to death in that shirt.”

  “I’ll survive,” I told her.

  She sighed. “Whatever you say.”

  She was right, though. I was freezing. All day long I found myself rubbing my arms, trying to warm up. Seriously, the teachers at Hamilton High have their air conditio
ners on year-round. It’s got to be some sort of child abuse.

  It wasn’t so bad, though. Especially after I noticed Brody Frasier looking at me in geometry. When I met his eye, he totally smiled. Then he sort of blushed and went back to working on a proof. You know that moment on a roller coaster when you make a big drop and you’re weightless and your stomach is in your chest? That’s how I felt for the rest of the period.

  Okay, so maybe having a boy smile at you doesn’t seem like a big deal, but this was. Brody was a sophomore, and he was on the baseball team and he had these gorgeous blue eyes—but he was smart, too. He was always carrying around books like The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn and Lord of the Flies. And he wasn’t reading them because he had to—that’s what he read for fun.

  Almost every girl in the ninth and tenth grades had a crush on Brody Frasier. And he’d just smiled at me.

  And it only got better.

  I was still excited and fluttery as the bell rang, and when I tried to grab my books, I ended up knocking my notebook off my desk.

  “I got it.”

  I looked up and saw Brody walking toward my desk. He knelt down and picked up my notebook—I was so glad it was a plain blue one and not one of the sparkly pink notebooks I used for some of my other classes.

  “Thanks,” I said when he handed it to me.

  “No problem.”

  I thought he would just walk away then, but he didn’t. He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at his feet, like he didn’t want to leave but didn’t know what to say, either. I felt like I was on a roller coaster again.

  “So…” I said. “Proofs are kind of hard, huh?”

  Lame, lame, lame.

  He smiled. “I like them, actually. Math isn’t normally my best subject, but I don’t know. I like the logic part.”

  “Oh.” I felt a little embarrassed. Math usually was my strongest subject—that’s why I’d taken Algebra I in middle school and got to be in a sophomore geometry class my freshman year. Why had I just admitted to him that I thought they were hard? Now Brody probably thought I was an idiot or something.

  “You know, if you ever wanted help sometime—”