Damaged: A Violated Trust (Secrets) (6 page)

I
find it hard to believe I’m still welcome in Harris’s crowd. It’s like no one even questions me hanging with them, so I keep coming back. I’m fully aware that there’s one main reason I keep coming back — a six-foot-tall handsome hunk of a reason.

So far no one seems to suspect my real motive, since no one is questioning me. That might be because I’m playing my hand very carefully. I go out of my way to be congenial to Emery; I’m even tolerant with Saundra — although I have no authentic respect for her. In my previous life, I would have categorized her as a mean girl. Yet, somehow, she doesn’t really scare me now.

Even so, I can’t get over the feeling that I’m an imposter here, or perhaps I’m playing a game or just waiting for the other shoe to fall … or maybe the boot. Finally it’s Friday and nothing has come along to derail me from my charade of fitting in with the “in” crowd, and I almost believe I’m really part of it. This fills me with a strange mix of emotions, contradictory things like pride and angst and shame.

“I never would’ve taken you for one of them,” Poppie says as we select watercolor brushes for our current projects. She’s just been lecturing me on why the kids I’ve been hanging with are all wrong for me.

“Why is it that just because you’re friends with someone, everyone assumes you’ve become one of them?” I shoot back. “Why can’t I just be me?”

She gives me a long, curious look. “Good question. Why
can’t
you just be yourself?”

“How do you even know who I am? You’ve known me for all of one week.”

She just shrugs and goes back to our worktable.

“I have to side with Poppie on this,” Zach says from behind me. I didn’t even know he was listening.

“Why?” I demand.

“Maybe we see something you’re missing.” He adjusts his wire rims and peers at me.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re obviously a square peg trying to squeeze yourself into a round hole.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“When you’re with the others — the so-called cool group — you’re not yourself.”

“See, there you go, acting like you know who I am. Just like Poppie. You’ve known me a week and yet you know who I am?”

“Let me put it like this, Haley. You’re one person in here with us and a totally different person out there with them.”

I think about this. “Well, maybe I’m acting different with you guys in here, just trying to fit in. Did you ever think of that?”

He chuckles. “You pull it off really well then. You’re totally believable in here. But out there you look like a farce.”

“A farce?” Do Zach and Poppie sit in the cafeteria just staring at me throughout the entire lunch hour? Maybe they’re spies for my mom.

“You’re like a caricature of them, Haley. Like you’re trying too hard, trying to pass yourself off as being like them, when it’s obvious you’re not.”

I know what he’s saying is true, yet I have no intention of showing that. Mostly I feel aggravated that my disguise is so easy to see through. If Zach and Poppie have figured me out, why haven’t the others? Or maybe they have and they’re just waiting to pull the rug out from under me.

Whatever the case, I feel seriously rattled as I gather my things after school. Questions like
Who am I?
are rolling around in my head, and I can’t wait to get out of here.

“Hey, wait up,” calls a guy.

I turn to see Harris coming toward me. I make a sheepish wave and slam my locker shut, glancing around to see if Emery or any of her friends are nearby. This could be the setup.

“I’ve been looking for you since lunch.” He leans against my locker. “I wanted to see if you’re still on for my guitar lessons.”

“Seriously?” I frown at him.

“Yeah, I want to learn to play. Are you into that or not?”

I make an uneasy smile. “Sure, but what about Emery? She seemed a little concerned — ”

“Emery is not my mother.” He looks over his shoulder like he doesn’t want anyone to hear this. “The truth is, I’m about to break up with her.”

This makes me feel slightly dizzy … and suspicious. “Really?”

“Don’t say anything though.” He looks into my eyes and that makes me even dizzier. “I feel like I can trust you, Haley. You seem different than the other girls. More mature, you know?”

I just shrug.

“So anyway, how about tomorrow afternoon for lessons?”

“Sure,” I tell him. Then I give him my dad’s address.

“Hey, that’s not far from where I live. Cool.”

I nod. “Yeah. Cool.”

“Are you coming to the game tonight?”

Now I’m gauging … is this a casual question or a cloaked invitation? “I don’t know.”

He frowns. “You’re not into football?”

I think hard and then decide to go for it, making my flirtiest smile. “I suppose I
could
be into football. I mean, if the right guy was playing.”

He throws his head back and laughs. “Then you better get yourself to the game tonight.”

Keeping up my sly, flirty persona, I just nod. “I’ll give that some serious thought, Harris.”

He pats me on the shoulder. “You do that, Haley.”

As he leaves, my head is spinning and I feel tingles from the roots of my hair to my toenails. He is coming on to me — I know it. And he said he’s going to break up with Emery. It’s like Harris Stephens is mine for the taking. And I’m going to do the taking. This is a chance I do not want to miss. I am most definitely going to the game! Hopefully Dad won’t mind.

I practically dance all the way home, and once I’m there, I spend the afternoon trying on every outfit I think would be perfect for going to a football game. And I primp and primp.

“Hello,” Dad calls out as he gets home.

Bracing myself for his disappointment, I go out and try to think of a gentle way to break the news that I want to go to the game tonight.

“Hey, Hay.” He grins. “How’s it going?”

“Great. How about you?” I realize how little Dad and I have talked this week. He works such long hours that he’s sometimes getting home just as I’m getting ready for bed, and it feels like we’re ships in the night.

“Okay.” Now his grin fades. “Hey, you don’t mind if I take Estelle out tonight, do you? It’s kind of an expected thing, but I could cancel if you—”

“No, Dad,” I say quickly. “That’s actually perfect because I wanted to go to the football game anyway.”

His smile returns. “Great!” Now he looks more closely at me. “You look really pretty, Haley.”

I give him a self-conscious thank-you and head back to my room. Hopefully he doesn’t know that I’m fixing up for a boy. Of course, Dad probably wouldn’t even care. It’s Mom who flips out over something like this.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Dad says as he’s getting ready to leave. “I might be in late.”

“Okay.” I just nod.

“Have fun!” He jingles his car keys and, just like that, he’s gone. I feel a strange sense of detachment as I stand there by myself in the condo — kind of like I’m all alone in the universe. On one hand, I should be thankful for this newfound freedom. On the other hand, it’s a bit unsettling.

It’s still light when I walk to the game. A car full of guys honks at me and offers me a lift, but there’s no way I’m climbing in with a bunch of strangers, thank you very much. I feel a little odd going to the game by myself. The stands aren’t that crowded, and I soon discover that this is the junior-varsity game and in its second half.

Some of the varsity cheerleaders are among the spectators, but I don’t see Emery or Saundra among them. However, Libby Farnsworth, one of Emery’s lesser friends, waves me over to join them. Libby isn’t a cheerleader but is part of their crowd. And in my opinion, she’s one of the nicer ones.

“Did you hear the news?” she urgently asks me.

“What news?” A rush of panic hits me — did something terrible happen to Harris? Car wreck, broken bones, what is it?

“Emery and Harris broke up,” she says dramatically.

Concealing my true emotions with a serious expression, I slowly nod, trying to take this in. “Oh, that’s too bad,” I finally say, but in reality I am controlling myself from doing the happy dance. “What happened?”

“I guess we should’ve expected it. They’ve been fighting a lot lately and we all know what that means. Emery is saying it was mutual.”

“Yeah, right,” Deidre Thornton says as she joins us. Deidre is a cheerleader and one of Emery’s closer friends. “Emery’s been home crying her eyes out all afternoon.” Deidre holds up her phone. “Saundra just texted me saying Emery might not even make it to tonight’s game. And we really need her to do our new formation.”

“That’s too bad,” I say for the second time. Inside I’m cheering and clapping my hands. Outside I look as disturbed as these two.

“It might be for the best,” Deidre concedes. “Emery hasn’t been that happy with Harris since last summer.” She glances at Libby. “Remember?”

Libby nods. “Oh, yeah. I almost forgot.”

“What happened?” I ask innocently.

“Emery thinks Harris cheated on her,” Deidre says. “Naturally, Harris denied it.”

“And Emery didn’t have any solid evidence,” Libby adds. “So I think she decided to overlook it.”

Suddenly someone scores a touchdown and everyone is yelling and cheering; figuring it’s our school’s team, I cheer too — with abandon. Mostly I’m cheering for the breakup of Harris and Emery. It seems wrong in some ways, but it’s not like they were married. Besides, Harris gave me the heads-up this afternoon. It takes all my self-control not to admit this to these two girls now. Instead, I stand there with them, pretending to be the biggest football fan ever while we wait for the JV game to end. Fortunately our team wins and there’s even more opportunity for celebrating — and I really feel like celebrating.

“Want to get a bite to eat?” Libby says to me as the cheerleaders head down to the turf to join the JV rally in a victory yell. “I never had dinner tonight.”

Thankful to have a person to hang with, I gladly agree, and as we head down to the concession area, she tells me a little more about the breakup between Emery and Harris. “Can you believe it? He didn’t even do it in person. He broke up with her on the phone.”

“Seriously?” I try not to look too happy. “That’s a little harsh.”

“Maybe … but you didn’t see Emery storming off when he tried to talk to her after school. She wouldn’t even listen to him.”

“Why did Emery storm out?” I ask cautiously as I squirt mustard on my hot dog.

“Just a fight, I think.” Libby sticks a straw in her soda. “They have them fairly regularly.”

“Oh …”

We go back to the stands and I’m trying not to obsess over what is a real possibility — was the fight over me? Did Emery see him talking to me? Did he tell her he was coming to my house for guitar lessons tomorrow? Or am I just being paranoid?

We sit in the stands, eating our makeshift meal, and I try not to worry about all this as I watch the cheerleaders down there doing routines and trying to get the pregame crowd excited about the upcoming game. The jazz band is here in full force and Zach is part of it, playing trombone and wearing a goofy hat. So much for his John Lennon image.

Finally, it’s time to announce the team, and I feel slightly breathless as I hear Harris Stephens’s name over the loudspeaker. “A senior this year, starting quarterback …” The statistics echo meaninglessly through my head as I look down at him in his black and gold uniform. Who knew football players looked so hot in their uniforms? I stare directly at him and I could swear he’s looking straight back at me. I even smile and he smiles back. I am in heaven!

Okay, this would not be my mom’s definition of heaven by any means. In fact, if she could read my mind right now, she’d probably have the exact opposite place lined up for me. Because I am imagining myself kissing him. That’s right — K-I-S-S-I-N-G! And the warmth that fills me is almost overwhelming. But I try to act natural.

The opposing team kicks off and I follow Libby’s reactions as each play unfurls, but the whole time my eyes are on Harris — and Harris only. Whether he’s on the field and I’m watching in trepid fear, hoping he doesn’t get injured, or if he’s on the sidelines and I’m staring at his back, at the number on his shirt. My new lucky number is eight! I cannot take my eyes off that boy!

By the time the game ends — and we win — I am a raving lunatic football fan, yelling, “We’re number one! Tigers are number one!”

“Come on!” Libby grabs my arm. “What are you waiting for?”

Just like that, we, along with a bunch of others, are pouring onto the field, which is apparently okay, and congratulating the players. To my surprise, Buck Anderson comes over and gives me a big bear hug, lifting me right off the ground.

“Great game!” I gasp as he sets me back down on the turf.

“Thanks! You coming to the celebration party?”

“I … uh … I don’t know …” I see Harris coming my way now. At least I hope he is, but since Emery is in between us, I’m not sure how this will go down. But he just gives her a stony look, barely tipping his head, then moves past her and — to my utter amazement — comes over to me.