The Secret Identity of Devon Delaney (13 page)

“Who is it?”

“I dunno.” Katie shrugs. She pulls my covers over her head.

I run down the stairs and into the kitchen. My mom’s at the stove, cooking scrambled eggs. The clock on the microwave says 10:02. I guess I didn’t give Katie enough credit for her time-telling skills.

“Who’s on the phone for me?” I ask, glancing at the phone in the kitchen, which is on the receiver.

“It was Luke,” my mom says, pushing the eggs around the frying pan. She reaches up and pushes a strand of hair out of her face. “But you were taking so long to get to the phone, I told him you would call him back. Really, Devon, you have to be more aware of your bad sleep habits.”

“I don’t have bad sleep habits,” I say. I pour myself a glass of orange juice and sit down at the table. “Did you get Luke’s number?”

“Of course I got his number,” my mom says, like the thought of her not getting it would be the same as her doing something totally crazy like shaving her head. She motions to the pad by the phone. “It’s right there.”

“Thanks,” I say, gulping my juice.

“Do you want some eggs?” my mom asks. She doesn’t wait for my answer before setting a plate of them in front of me.

“No thanks,” I say, pushing them away “I have to go call Luke back.”

“Devon,” she says, moving the plate away and sitting down next to me. Uh-oh. I can always tell when my mom is going to get all super serious on me. She uses my name a lot. Also, I’ve noticed that she likes to do it when I’m not expecting it. I think she learned this technique in the counseling she goes to with my dad, because one time I saw a brochure entitled
How to Talk to Your Kids About Anything
near her computer. I think the theory is that if it doesn’t feel like a “planned talk,” then it’s more like two friends having a chat.

“Mom,” I say, pushing the plate away and hoping I can run upstairs before we get into the talk. “I really have to call Luke back. We’re getting together to work on our project today, and so …” I trail off, hoping she’ll get the picture that, you know, working on the project is as important as world peace or something.

“I know,” she says, nodding. “Which is why I want to have a quick talk with you before you go running
off for the day.” She folds her hands together.

“I just want you to know that it’s normal at your age to like boys.” Oh. My. God. My mom is not going to have a talk with me about boys. This is humiliating.

“I know,” I say, nodding seriously and hoping my mom will understand that we don’t need to have this talk because I’m so well adjusted and mature. If only she knew.

“So when boys call here, or when you want to hang out with boys, that’s perfectly fine.” She looks me in the eye and smiles. I smile back.

“Thanks, Mom,” I say. “Good talk.”

“But,” she goes on, “there have to be some rules and limitations.”

“Actually, there doesn’t,” I say, “because I’m not even really hanging out with any boys. Luke is just a friend, Mom. He called because of our project.”

My mom raises her eyebrows at me, and I can tell she’s wondering if she should press the issue or not. My mom is trying to set boundaries but also knows that she needs to give us space, too. “Room to make our own mistakes and grow from them.” I read it in the brochure. Being a parent is horribly complicated.

Katie walks into the kitchen, her face smeared with makeup.

“Hello!” she announces. “I am here for my show.” She gets up on the kitchen chair and starts dancing.

“That’s your show?” I ask her. “I think it needs work.”

“I am Katie Delaney, star of
The Katie Delaney Show,
and I am here to make you SHAKE YOUR BOOTY!” And then Katie does start shaking her booty.

“Katherine Grace Delaney, where did you hear that word?” my mom gasps, horrified. “And where did you get that makeup?” She looks over at me like I’m responsible for turning my sister into a five-year-old pop star.

“What word?” Katie asks. She puts her hands up in the air and continues to shake. “Now raise the roof! RAISE! THE! ROOF!”

“Hmm,” I say. “That’s actually not bad. Katie, you’re a pretty good dancer.”

“Thank you, Devon,” Katie says. She continues to raise the roof.

“Devon, don’t encourage her,” my mom says. She stands up and lifts Katie off the chair. “You have makeup all over.” She rips a paper towel off the holder by the sink, runs it under the faucet, and starts cleaning Katie’s face. “Where did you get this makeup?”

“From Devon’s room,” Katie says. She turns and looks at me. “I’m sorry, Devon,” she says solemnly. Katie has been big on apologizing ever since she learned about saying sorry in preschool last year. The problem is, she thinks once she’s apologizes, it makes whatever she did totally okay.

“That’s okay,” I say. I don’t mind that she took my makeup. From the looks of it, it’s the sample lipstick that came with the lip gloss I bought while I was with Lexi and Kim. It’s this horrible orange color. Plus I’m so grateful Katie distracted my mom from her “setting boundaries with boys” talk that I can’t be mad.

“It’s not okay,” my mom says. “She has it all over!”

“Just put the clothes in the washing machine right away,” I tell her. “And put some of that Stain Stick on it. I bet it will come out.”

“Hmm,” my mom says, looking at Katie, who grins. “Maybe you’re right. Into the laundry room,” she commands, and Katie marches off obediently.

The phone rings, and I grab the cordless off the counter.

“Hello?”

“Devi? It’s Lexi.”

“Hey,” I say. “What’s goin’ on?” I grab the carton of orange juice off the table and refill my glass.

“Listen, something bad just happened.” Geez. I’m putting out fires all over the place.

“Like what?” The juice hits the top of the glass and threatens to spill over. I take a small sip.

“Listen, before I tell you, you have to promise not to get mad.” Uh-oh.

“Why would I be mad?” I set the container of orange juice back on the table.

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

“I accidentally told Kim that Jared was your boyfriend.”

“What do you mean?” I ask as my stomach drops.

“She told her!” I scream. I’m in my room, recounting the conversation I just had with Lexi to Mel, who rushed over after I called her freaking out.

“Okay,” Mel says, sighing. She’s perched on my bed, and I’m pacing the floor in front of her, back and forth, back and forth. I’m afraid if I sit down, I might explode. “And what did Kim say?”

“She didn’t refute it. She just said ‘that’s interesting.’ ‘That’s interesting’! What does that mean?” Mel looks at me blankly, and I grab her by the shoulders. “WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?” I demand.

Mel reaches up slowly, grabs my wrists, and pulls my hands off her shoulders. “Devon,” she says. “You. Are. On. The. Brink.”

She’s right. “You’re right,” I say. DO. NOT. PANIC. I feel like I should have that tattooed somewhere on my body so that I can look at it whenever I need to. It’s becoming almost like a motto. There should be a series of posters. “Someone choking? DO. NOT. PANIC.” “Is your child lost in the mall? DO. NOT. PANIC.” “About to have your secret life exposed and your life ruined? DO. NOT. PANIC.”

“I just don’t know what to do. This is a disaster.”

“Maybe this isn’t the right time to say this,” Mel says slowly. “But, Devon, what did you expect to happen? The longer this goes on, the more chance there is that it’s going to start causing problems.”

“Gee, thanks,” I say. I plop down on the bed next to her and sigh.

“I’m sorry, Devon, but it’s true. You have to fake break up with him.”

“I can’t now!” I say. “It will definitely look fake if I break up with him right after Lexi told Kim. She’ll know it was all a lie. Unless …” Suddenly I have a brilliant idea. “What if I can convince Kim that I’m dating Jared and that
she
has to keep it a secret too?”

“It won’t work,” Mel says, sighing.

“Why not?” I frown. “It’s working with Lexi.”

“It’s
not
working with Lexi,” Mel says. “And besides, that’s different. Lexi and Jared aren’t friends the way Kim and Jared are. Kim knows stuff about Jared, about his schedule and what he spends his time doing. She’s not going to believe that you two are having a secret relationship. She knows that, before a few days ago, you two hardly even spoke.”

“You’re right,” I moan, grabbing one of my pillows and pulling it over my head. “I’m in deep trouble. I’m done. Finished.” I wonder if my mom will let me switch schools. Maybe to an all-girls school, since she’s now convinced that I’m boy-crazy.

“You’re not,” Mel says. She slides down on the bed next to me. “Look, talk to Kim. Maybe you can explain the situation to her, find out what she thinks. Maybe she didn’t even hear what Lexi said.”

“Right,” I say, not believing it. I’m doomed. Kids in future classes will talk about me. I’ll be Devon Delaney, the girl who made up a fake boyfriend. People will probably think I’m an urban legend, since no one is going to believe that anyone could actually be that stupid.

“Look, nothing bad has happened yet,” Mel says. She takes the pillow I’m holding over my face and
moves it to the top of my bed. “Kim didn’t tell Lexi the truth. So be thankful for that. You can’t figure out what to do right now, because you don’t know exactly what’s going on. You have to take it one step at a time.”

“You’re right,” I say. I take a deep breath. “But whatever it is can’t be good.”

“You’ll know more about the situation in a little while,” Mel asks, looking at me. “We’re still going to Jared’s to work on the project, right?”

“Actually um, I meant to talk to you about that,” I say, swallowing. “Um, it turns out that since you weren’t at lunch, you didn’t get a part.”

“That’s okay,” Mel says, shrugging. “It will probably be more fun to just hang out there, anyway, and not have to worry about doing the work. Maybe I can help with the camera or something.”

Crap. “Well,” I say, “I think that Matt O’Connor’s going to do the camera.” Silence. This is bad. This is horrible.

“Oh,” Mel says, looking down at her hands. “Well, whatever.” She shrugs, but I can tell she’s upset. “Maybe we can hang out later tonight. You’re not going to be there all day, are you?”

“No,” I say. “It’s only going to take a couple of hours, but I have to babysit Katie tonight.”

“Right,” she says, standing up. “Maybe tomorrow then.”

“Yes,” I say, nodding. “Definitely tomorrow. Call me or IM me tonight. I’ll be around.”

“Okay,” she says. “Have fun working on your project. Good luck with the Kim thing.” She turns and walks out the door, her hair bobbing up and down, and suddenly I feel like I’m going to cry.

By the time I have to leave for Jared’s, I’m definitely past being on the brink. I’ve crossed over into full-blown panic.

Possible openers:

“Hi, Kim, I heard you found out I’m a liar. Is there anything to drink around here?”

“Hey, Kim, just so you know, I really am dating Jared. Yes, I know it seems impossible since you two are such good friends and talk all the time, but I guess you weren’t as close as you thought. SUCKER!”

“Kim, I’ll do whatever you want, just please, please, please, don’t tell anyone.”

The third one is probably the most accurate. Although a combo of the first and third might work as well, because I really am thirsty.

Jared lives less than two blocks from me (which is actually very cool, since all last year Mel and I would walk by his house over and over, pretending we were just going for walks, and sometimes we’d see him outside fixing his bike or doing something in the yard for his mom), so I walk to his house, even though I’m wearing a pair of Lexi’s shoes that are killing my feet. I wore sneakers out of the house and ditched them in the bushes, because I knew there was no way my mom was going to let me out of the house with these on my feet. Especially after her whole talk about boys. But the shoes are glam—pink with a chunky heel. Although Lexi’s feet are a size bigger than mine, which means (a) the shoes make a scraping noise while I walk, and (b) I had to stuff toilet paper into the toes so that they wouldn’t slide off.

I ring Jared’s doorbell and plaster a smile on my face.

“Hey,” he says when he answers the door. “Everyone’s downstairs.” Everyone’s downstairs? What? I check my watch, which says 2:07. You’d think everyone would try to be fashionably late, but I guess not.

“Cool,” I say. “Um, am I late or something?”

“I dunno,” he says. He shrugs again, and I follow him
down the stairs to the basement. My shoes are clunking very loudly, and I’m trying to walk slowly in an effort not to bring attention to myself. Suddenly I have a horrible thought. What if Kim already asked Jared about me, and now
everyone knows?
And when I get down there, everyone’s going to start yelling at me or something? Like in that old movie
Carrie,
where everyone plays a mean prank on the dorky girl at the end. Kind of like a surprise party. Only a very, very bad one.

But when I get into the basement, it doesn’t seem like anything’s about to go down. Lexi and Kim are in the corner, huddled over an iPod, picking out music, which is blaring out of the speakers all over the room. Luke’s sitting on an overstuffed couch watching something on TV with Matt O’Connor. Jared wanders over and plops down next to them. Hmm. This looks more like a party than a school project.

I stand awkwardly at the bottom of the stairs for a second, wondering what I should do.

“Hey,” Luke says, saving me. He gets up from the couch and comes over to where I’m standing. “We were waiting until you got here to start.”

“I’m sorry if I’m late,” I say. “Something, um, came up at home and I had to deal with it’before I left.”

He frowns, his eyes serious. “Is everything okay?”

Not really, I lied about going out with your best friend and now Kim knows about it, so I’m probably going to become the laughingstock of the school. “Yeah, everything’s fine.” I put on my most dazzling smile. Okay, new plan: I’m not going down without a fight.

I muster up all my courage, then walk over to the couch determinedly and sit down between Jared and Matt. “So,” I say, trying to sound demure. “What are we watching?” I pull the remote out of Jared’s hand, surprising myself. I didn’t know I had that in me. Although I really have been doing a lot of Devi-like things lately. What if I lose Devon and become Devi? This is a disturbing thought.