The Thing About the Truth (24 page)

“But we’re having cake,” Marshall says through a mouthful of chocolate. “You want some, Mr. Brandano?”

This kid’s the best. I love that he called my dad “Mr.” instead of “Senator” and that he’s offering him his ghetto cake.

“Cake?” My dad looks confused.

“Oh yeah,” I say, “Marshall made this delicious chocolate cake, didn’t you, Marshall?”

“Yup.” He takes another big bite. “You should have some, for real. It’s wonderful.”

My dad’s looking at the cake doubtfully. “Are your parents registered to vote, Marshall?” he asks.

Marshall looks confused. “Yeah,” he says, and swallows his cake.

My dad reaches over and pulls a plate off the stack that Kelsey set out. “I’d love a piece,” he says.

“Milk?” I offer.

“Please.”

Kelsey pours him a big glass, and as she does I catch her eye over the glass. She smiles at me, and I smile at her, and I know we’re both thinking the same thing—that it’s going to be hilarious watching Marshall interact with my dad. And I’m pretty sure that’s the moment that I realize I’m falling in love with her.

Kelsey

Isaac’s dad takes tons of pictures with us, on our cameras and his, and it’s all totally fake. Like,
really
fake. We spread out all our notebooks and stuff on the dining room table, and then Senator Brandano pretends like we’re all working together. He even loosens his tie before he does it, like he’s trying to pretend that he’s just relaxing at home with his son and his friends. It’s all very scandalous.

But I don’t care, because now I have a picture of me and the senator working together. Isaac even made sure to take a picture of just the two of us bent over a binder, looking very intent. I wonder if attaching it to my college applications is going a little too far, but I don’t think you can really go too
far when it comes to important things like that. And plus don’t they always say that a picture is worth a thousand words?

Anyway, right after Senator Brandano left, Chloe showed up with that guy Dave. I knew things might be awkward between the two of them, since Chloe led me to believe that would be the case, but I really had no idea just exactly how awkward they would be. I mean, I kind of thought she was exaggerating.

“So,” I say. We’re all sitting in the family room—me, Isaac, Chloe, Dave, and Marshall—and so far the conversation hasn’t been so great. After asking Dave the usual “How do you like college?” questions, no one’s really come up with anything much to say.

“Eat your cake, Dave,” Marshall says. Everyone has a piece of cake sitting in front of them on the coffee table. But no one’s eating any. Probably because of the melted frosting.

“You should,” Isaac says. “It’s good.” He reaches over and picks up his plate, and then I do the same with mine. I take a bite. The cake
is
actually really good, although I’m not sure I should be having a second piece. But I didn’t want to be rude. And besides, there’s so much of it.

“Wow,” I say. “Marshall, this is delicious.” He beams.

“Oh, great,” Chloe babbles. “I love cake. Cake is the best.”

“Do you like cake, Dave, my man?” Marshall asks. Marshall is on his fourth piece of cake. His lips are coated with crumbs, and there’s a big smear of chocolate frosting on his shirt. This isn’t stopping him, though. In fact, the more chocolate he eats, the more he seems to want.

“I like cake,” Dave says. “Who doesn’t?”

Marshall starts talking to him about different kinds of cake, and what kind of desserts they have in the dining halls at college. Then he asks Dave if there are a lot of hot college girls at his school. Which is awkward since Dave just hooked up with Chloe. Which Marshall knows. Doesn’t he know better than to bring that up? Dave shifts on the couch and tries to answer the questions, all the while shooting Chloe nervous looks out of the corner of his eye.

“Oh my God,” Isaac whispers into my ear, leaning into me on the couch. “What should we do?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, this is about to turn into a big debacle,” he says. I can feel his breath on my neck, and a little shiver runs up my spine.

“What kind of debacle?” I ask.

“The kind where everyone just sits around being awkward, and then when they leave, they all talk about how lame it was,” he says.

Hmmm. He’s right. What were we thinking, planning an afternoon hangout with five people to try and get Chloe together with Dave? I know she didn’t want it to seem too obvious, but come on. Hanging out in the middle of the day eating cake? That’s, like, the least romantic thing ever. Maybe I should have a talk with her about being a little more assertive.

“How do we fix it?” I whisper to Isaac.

“Play spin the bottle?” he asks, one side of his mouth sliding up into a grin.

I grin back, and he leans over and gives me a kiss.

In the end, Isaac pulls out the Wii and we all start playing. It’s actually pretty fun. We get into a supercompetitive game of Dance Dance Revolution and then move on to Mario Kart. The conversation is flowing, and Chloe is actually starting to loosen up, flirting and having fun.

And then, right in the middle of this weird jumping game where you have to jump over things that are being thrown at you, Marshall suddenly grabs his stomach and goes, “Uh-oh.”

“What uh-oh?” Isaac says, sounding concerned. He hits the button to pause the game.

“I dunno,” Marshall says, “I just . . . I feel like maybe I’m going to . . .” And then he leans over and pukes all over the floor.

“Gross,” Dave says.

“Gross,” Chloe says.

“Gross,” I say. And then I feel bad, so I add, “Are you okay?” I’m trying not to look at the puke.

“I’ll get some paper towels and a mop,” Isaac says, then disappears into the kitchen.

Dave throws his Wii controller down onto the couch. “I should get going,” he says.

“Already?” Chloe asks. She looks a little panicked. “We just got here.”

“I think I’m going to throw up again,” Marshall says. He falls onto the couch clutching his stomach. He’s looking a little green in the face.

“You ready, Chloe?” Dave asks.

“Um, yeah.” She stands up and starts to follow him toward the door. “I’ll text you later, okay, Kels?”

“Okay.” Even though the whole group hangout thing didn’t go so well, I’m psyched that she’s going to be texting me. My first public school friend! Well, besides Isaac. But he’s my boyfriend. At least, I think he is. We still haven’t had the whole “we’re officially together” talk yet. But we spend so much time together. There’s no way he would have time to see anyone else. Which must mean we’re boyfriend/girlfriend, right?

But maybe it’s not a time thing. Maybe he just wants to keep his options open, like in case someone better comes along. Or maybe he’s one of those guys who doesn’t do the whole girlfriend thing. Maybe he just dates girls and doesn’t ever make it official. That way when he cheats on you, you can’t really call it cheating, because—

“I don’t feel so good,” Marshall moans.

“Maybe you should go lie down in the guest room,” Isaac says. He’s back with the mop.

“I think I should,” Marshall says. He stands up and wobbles toward the hallway.

“It’s the second door on the right,” Isaac calls. “And if you get sick again, use the guest bathroom that’s attached, okay?”

Marshall nods, then goes stumbling down the hall.

“Well,” Isaac says, “do you see why I wanted it to just be me and you? Everyone felt awkward, and the afternoon ended with me cleaning up puke.”

“I don’t feel awkward,” I say, lying back on the couch and propping my feet up on the ottoman.

“That’s because you’re not cleaning up puke.” He grins.

When the floor is clean again, we check on Marshall, who’s sprawled out on the bed in the guest room snoring. And then Isaac takes my hand and pulls me down the hall toward his room.

“Should we be going to your room?” I ask, suddenly nervous.

“Why not?”

“Won’t your dad care?” I ask.

“My dad left.”

Oh. Right.

His room is totally clean, neat as a pin. He kisses me, and his lips feel amazing. The kisses intensify, until finally, he’s pulling me down on the bed next to him. I sink into the softness, and then his hands are moving up and over my shirt.

We make out for a few minutes, until I pull back.

“Wait,” I say, sitting up. My body’s on fire, and my head’s all cloudy.

“It’s okay,” he says, rolling over onto his back and looking up at the ceiling. “We can stop.”

“No, it’s not that,” I say. “I mean, it is that, but . . .” I swallow hard and look out the window.

“What?” he asks, sitting up next to me. “What’s wrong?”

I don’t know what’s wrong. I’m just having all this weirdness, thinking about what happened with Rex, and how I’m here now with Isaac, and just . . . I don’t know. “What’s going on with us?” I ask.

“What do you mean?” Isaac asks, looking confused.

“I mean, are you my boyfriend?”

He frowns. “I never thought about it.”

“You never
thought
about it?” I start to get up from the bed, but he grabs me and pulls me back down.

“Hey,” he says, “what’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I say. “I just would have hoped that you would have thought about it by now. I mean, we’ve been spending pretty much every second together.”

“Yes,” he says, his brown eyes meeting mine. “We’re together. And I didn’t mean that I haven’t thought about it because I didn’t want to be your boyfriend. I just meant that I assumed you were my girlfriend, and so I wasn’t spending a lot of time thinking about it.”

“And why would you assume that?” Suddenly I’m all emotional. I feel like I want to pick a fight with him, and I don’t understand why.

“Um, because of what you just said? That we’ve been spending every single moment together since I kissed you that day outside the mall?” He’s looking at me sort of worried, like he doesn’t understand why I’m all upset. Which makes two of us.

“That’s the problem with you,” I say, still angry at him for no reason. “You’re always just
assuming
things. You’re always just taking it for granted that things are going to be the way that you want them.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t understand why you’re—”

“I want to go home,” I say.

“Okay.” But he doesn’t move.

“You have to drive me home,” I tell him.

“First you’re going to tell me what this is all about.”

“It’s about you just assuming we were together and not even thinking that maybe I have a say in it too.”

“No, it’s not,” he says.

“It’s not?”

“No.” He shakes his head. “I’m not stupid, Kelsey. You’re upset, I can see that, but it has to do with more than me. What’s going on?”

I don’t say anything. Because the truth is, I don’t know.

He takes my face in his hands and says, “Look at me.”

I raise my eyes to meet his. It’s hard because it makes me feel really close to him. I feel like he’s looking into my soul, like he’s the first person who can see the real me. “I am falling in love with you,” he says. “And I am not Rex. Okay?”

I nod. And then he kisses me again.

And again.

And again and again and again. His hands are everywhere, and so are mine, and my body is melting into his, responding to his touch, falling into the moment. And when he whispers in my ear, when he asks me if I’ve ever done this before, I tell him I haven’t.

I lie.

Isaac

“Can I talk to you alone, please?” Kelsey hisses.

“Who? Me?” I look at her with a faux innocent look on my face, like I have no idea what she’d need to talk to me about.

“Yes, you.” She gives Dr. Ostrander a smile. But he’s not smiling back. Probably he can’t figure out why she wants to talk to me alone. Probably he knows she’s up to something.

“Why?” I ask, just to be mean. Which isn’t very nice. I mean, I don’t want to be an asshole just to be an asshole. Actually, when I think about it, that’s not even true. I
do
want to be an asshole just to be an asshole. I mean, why shouldn’t I? I fell in love with her, and she shit all over me.

“Because I think we should talk for a second. In private.” She looks at Dr. Ostrander, and then she changes her voice into the voice she uses with adults when she wants to get something from them. “Dr. Ostrander,” she says, “would you mind giving me and Isaac a moment alone?”

“You want me to
leave
my
office
?” Dr. Ostrander looks very offended. I would be too, if I were him. It’s a really nice office. He probably had to go through years and years of boring-ass classes to be able to get the job that gave him this office. And so I’m sure the last thing he wants is snot-nosed kids telling him to get out of it.