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The Lakeland Boys by G.L. Snodgrass (11)

Amber looked as pretty as ever on Monday morning. A cute top, hair pulled back, and jeans that hugged her curves perfectly. She had that kind of grace and presence that told me she would look beautiful forever.

I was leaning against my truck when she stepped out of her house. Her eyes found mine and her face erupted in a big smile. The kind of smile that let a guy know a girl was pleased to see him. The kind of smile that made a man want to fix the world. To slay demons and conquer new lands.

A door slamming behind me grabbed my attention. Marla was headed for the bus stop, shooting me a look of death. She’d been grumpy all night. Who knew with her? Probably boy problems.

“Hey, squirt, you want a ride?” I yelled to her.

Her eyes got big, as she nodded her head vigorously.

“What about Tank?” she asked.

I shook my head sadly. “His mom,” I said. That was all I needed to say. She understood immediately. Ever since his dad had been arrested, his mom had a hard time. Usually, she maintained, but sometimes she’d go off the deep end and drink herself into a stupor.

When that happened. Tank would pick up the pieces the next day. Help her through. I honestly believe that Tank’s approach of quiet support is what kept the woman from becoming a permanent lush.

Marla’s eyes softened, she had always had a tender spot for Tank. For all three of my friends really. They were like extra big brothers for her.

She rushed to the car, arriving just as Amber walked up. I held the door for them.

Amber looked at Marla. My sister looked back at her and said, “You get the middle. He’s not my boyfriend.”

Amber blushed and shot me a look.

I tried not to smile too much. The fact that this was the entire reason I had invited Marla was beside the point.

School was school. What can I say? It might have been a good day. We’d won on Friday. The pretend relationship had calmed things down on the whole girl front. Amber seemed to be happy. I’d occasionally catch her looking off in the distance. But, I hadn’t known her long enough to read what she was thinking.

As I said, it might have been a good day except for Trigonometry. The class was kicking my butt. My stomach rolled over. If I didn’t get the grade up, I’d never get accepted into UW.

I was still going over the last test results, as I walked into the cafeteria at lunch. My head came up as I scanned the room. The three queen bees, as Amber called them, were strategically placed in each of three corners of the room.

Nick and Luke were holding court at our regular table. I’d already passed the word about Tank. Nick shot me a look, then glanced over to the middle of the room where Amber sat next to Jenny Brewster.

The two girls were deep in conversation about something. Knowing Jenny, it was either something about violins, or books.

Well, at least Amber was starting to make friends, I thought.

“Hey Amber, Jenny,” I said, as I sat down across from her.

Amber smiled that smile of hers and my insides felt better. Some of the anger seeped away.

Jenny looked like a deer caught in headlights. Frozen, as she tried to figure out what to do next. She had always been a shy girl. I imagined the last thing she wanted to do was be a third wheel to the school’s power couple.

She started to gather her things.

“You don’t have to go,” Amber said, as she gave me a look that let me know I had better agree.

Me, being smarter than the average Joe, quickly said, “It’s okay Jenny, you don’t have to rush off.”

“No, that’s okay. I’ve got some stuff I’ve got to finish up.”

The girl couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

“What was that all about?” I asked Amber after Jenny had scurried from the table.

She laughed, “You scare some people, girls particularly.”

“Me?” I exclaimed, “What did I do?”

Amber laughed. “The fact that you don’t know why is one of your few redeeming qualities.” Suddenly, her face got beet red, as she stared down at her lunch.

“Yeah, well. At least I’ve got one,” I said with a frown.

Her concerned expression spoke volumes. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. I hated admitting that I was failing at something. It sounded too much like whining. But, I had to tell someone.

“TrIg. It’s killing me. I don’t get it. I’m not a complete idiot. But, I just can’t get my head wrapped around it.” There, it was out. A slight weight lifted from my shoulders. Not a lot. But, some.

Amber frowned and tilted her head. “Jason,” she said, “you practice after school. You work weekends. Of course you don’t get it. It takes time. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

I was shocked, the girl understood. No recriminations. No teasing or judgment.

“That doesn’t change the fact that if I don’t get this grade up, I’ll never get into the University of Washington.”

That frown of hers deepened enough to let me know she was concerned for me.

“Do you want me to help?” she asked with a hesitant voice. “After all. Appearances, remember. That is the kind of thing a girlfriend would help her boyfriend with. Right?”

I swallowed hard. There was that damn word again. Appearances.

“But, you haven’t taken trig yet?” I said.

She dipped her head, and that blush returned.

“No?” I said. “Don’t tell me, you learned it at homeschooling. Hell, you probably taught yourself. Read it in a book and figured it out. Right?”

The look of embarrassment on her face let me know that I had hit the nail on the head. Damn, my pretend girlfriend was a genius.

“I can help, really,” she said, and I saw that she really wanted to do this. And, as I’ve said, I’m not a complete idiot. Being tutored by Amber was not exactly a bad thing. I could think of a dozen reasons why I should jump at it.

“Okay,” I said. “But, you can’t judge me by my inability to understand cosigns.”

Amber laughed. “You understand them. You just don’t know it. A person who can throw an oblong football forty yards and hit a runner in stride is very familiar with trigonometry.”

“Forty-SIX yards,” I said, just to set the record straight.

.o0o.

My heart continued to race. Jason was coming over later. Once he finished practice, ate supper, and did whatever other dozen things needed doing, and I still hadn’t told my mom. This was going to open a whole world of hurt, I just knew it.

“Mom,” I said, as I put away the last glass from dinner. “Jason’s coming over so we can help each other with our homework.”

My mom pulled her head out of the refrigerator where she was putting away the leftover chicken curry. She turned and gave me a frown.

“Help with your homework? Are you having problems keeping up at school? Because if ...”

“Mom,” I interrupted. Stopping her before she got too far. “I’m not having problems. I promise.”

She continued to frown, then the light bulb went off in her head.  “Is Jason having difficulties? Because, if he is, I can help. I am a teacher. I ...”

“Mom,” I said with exasperation.

“Oh,” she said, as if she was finally beginning to understand. She gave me a strange look and then said, “Amber, how serious is this? You and Jason.”

My insides tightened up. I hated lying to my mom. But, the world would end before I talked to her about this. I hadn’t even told her about being boyfriend-girlfriend. She just thought we were occasionally dating.

“I don’t know how serious it is yet,” I said. Keep it generic, keep it simple. It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. We weren’t serious. We were pretend.

Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. The woman could always tell when I was fudging around the edges. That was why I didn’t do it very often. I swear she could look at me and know exactly what I was thinking. My heart jumped, if she knew what I was thinking about Jason half the time, she’d freak. Those were mental pictures no mother should ever have of her daughter.

“Amber,” she said, as she closed the refrigerator, “remember, you are going to Harvard in less than two years. It’s okay to date, but don’t get serious. You need to protect your heart.”

Oh, if she only knew how late she was with that little bit of advice.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Don’t worry, Mom. It’s not like that.”

Her lips pursed, as if she wanted to say something else, but she held back.

“Well, if you’re going to work together. Do it in the living room. Not upstairs.”

“Mom,” I exclaimed. “It’s not like that, I told you.”

She smiled. “You forget honey, I was your age once. When it comes to handsome boys and pretty girls. It is always like that.”

I huffed as I stomped off. She would never understand. How could she? I was relatively sure she had never had to pretend to be in love with someone she was really in love with. It was torture. We were together all the time. Yet, I couldn’t tell him the things I wanted to. I couldn’t tell him my secret dreams of being an artist. Not an art professor. I wanted to create, not teach people how to create.

We couldn’t share secrets. Couldn’t share our hopes and fears. It was just pretend.

In public, he would touch me and my heart would jump. Forgetting for a moment that it was only pretend and not real. Then, my world would come crashing back to the truth, and my heart would sink.

Being next to Jason was both wonderful and painful. His laugh would make me smile, then I would remember that it wasn’t for me. It was for the pretend me.

People looked at us as the perfect couple. Girls were jealous of me, some wanting to be my friend. Others wanting to stab me in the back. But, it was all lies. Every bit of it.

My stomach shivered with fear. What would happen when they found out the truth? I would be hated and laughed at.

For the first time, I wondered why I had allowed myself to be talked into this stupid idea. It was filled with pain and eventual catastrophe.

Yet, I thought. It allowed me to be close to him. It allowed me into his world.

The ring of the doorbell pulled me away from my sick stomach and back to the real world.

Jason looked as handsome as ever. A textbook and folders under his arm. His eyes twinkled as he smiled down at me.

“You sure you want to do this?” he asked. “I don’t want to keep you from your own homework.”

I smiled and told him that it was okay. No need for him to know that I finished most of my homework between classes.

We set up at the living room table and started going over what he knew.

It was hard to concentrate. This big, power presence sitting next to me seemed to take up half the world and all of my attention. I think he might have felt it too. That awkward wall had shifted. Something was different.

He smelled of soap and something else. Something that was only Jason. The scent seeped into my soul.

I pulled myself back to the text book and started explaining things. Jason wasn’t dumb. He just hadn’t had the time to put into the subject. As I spoke, he nodded, his eyes focused on the papers before us.

We were discussing cosigns when my mom came into the room.

“Hello Jason,” she said with that sweet smile of hers. I knew perfectly well she was checking up on us.

“Hello, Mrs. Johnson,” he said with that charming smile of his. I actually saw my mom falter for a second. She smiled and poured herself a cup of coffee, then left us alone.

We would have a talk later, I told myself. No way did I need a parade of parents checking up on us.

I glanced over at Jason. He seemed oblivious as to what my mom was doing. I swear, the boy could be so obtuse.

“Hello, Jason,” my dad said as he stepped into the room.

My cheeks burst into flame. No way could Jason not see what was going on.

“Hello, Mr. Johnson,” Jason said.

My dad looked back and forth between us for a second. A bewildered look on his face, as if he was trying to figure out the mystical reality that was his daughter. I shot him a laser look of death. The one I had learned from Cindy Cooper. He finally got the message and poured himself a cup of coffee.

My dad didn’t drink coffee. I rolled my eyes and grit my teeth.

Jason ignored the entire situation.

After my dad had left, Jason glanced over at me with that silly smile of his and shook his head.

“I’m sorry,” I said. How embarrassing.

He laughed, “Don’t be, they’re just parents. They don’t know any better.”

That was Jason I realized. Putting others at ease. My heart turned over. He was such a good person. And I was in love.

You can do this, I reminded myself. He doesn’t have to know. Spend the next few weeks enjoying yourself in his world, and then let him go on with his life.

The pain that shot through me left me shaken. I was so in love, and I couldn’t do anything about it.

I had to turn away for a moment and fuss with some papers so that Jason wouldn’t see my misty eyes.

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