Secrets & Lies: Two Short Stories(17)

“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 conditioners 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.