Page 100 of The Fake Out

She shrugged. “Maybe. But it’s so fun, and I have so little fun in my life.”

“Stop that. You could have a perfectly fun life if you wanted to.”

Ali tilted her head back to look at the night sky. “Eh, I’m fine.”

She was not fine. Not really.

When Ali was sixteen, she’d had her first grand mal seizure. It had come out of nowhere. The doctors hadn’t been too concerned with the first one. She was a student athlete (soccer) and it had been extremely hot that day. Likely she was dehydrated. But a month later, seizure number two happened. She’d been officially diagnosed with epilepsy, and it had changed her life in so many ways. Her parents refused to let her play sports or drive. She wasn’t allowed to be alone. Medication was prescribed, probably for life.

But when the car accident happened six months later, Ali started to change too. Ten years later, she was mostly back to normal but there were permanent changes. Because of the accident, she refused to drive (even though she was allowed). Her brother, already the black sheep of the family, had been blamed for the accident and left the state. Ali hadn’t seen him since. She’d also closed herself off to anything more than a surface-y relationship with most anyone. I was an exception. Alec, her college boyfriend, had been too. Then he’d broken her heart.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and hugged her. “Thanks for making Peter’s life miserable.”

“You’re welcome. But if anyone asks…”

“I know nothing.”

Chris strolled up to the truck five minutes later, looking none the worse for having had to keep Peter busy.

“All go okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “And you?”

“No problem. I got him talking about himself and that football stadium. I don’t think he even took a breath the whole time.” Chris unlocked the truck and opened the passenger door. We climbed in, Ali in the back.

“Thanks for helping me out.” Ali leaned forward. “It means a lot.”

“It was nothing,” Chris said. “Besides, I had a question to ask Peter anyway.”

I gave him a sharp look; he grinned and patted my leg.

“Good news. He said yes; he’d love to be a groomsman.”

FORTY-FOUR

Even if there was no gravity on earth, I’d still fall for you.

—ELENA S.

“The silent auction is three weeks away,” Mrs. Katz said. “We have a few items donated but we need more. No one’s going to get overly excited about a dozen donuts from the Sweet Spot with an estimated value of eight dollars.”

The Save the Library crew had been hard at work over the last few weeks. A dance had been planned at the Sit-n-Eat to celebrate after the auction, another attempt to draw a crowd. The date and time had been set, the fliers distributed. The newspaper had printed a small article about it. We’d talked a big game about this silent auction but, as yet, our donations had only dribbled in.

Horace raised his hand. “I’ve been talking to Cliff down at the tractor supply store and he thinks he could probably donate a wheelbarrow and some seed packets.”

“People,” Mrs. Katz said, using the same voice that could put the fear of the Lord himself into a room full of sixth graders. “If this is going to be a success, we need more than donuts and seed packets.”

“It doesn’t make any sense why we haven’t got more donations,” Sarah Ellis said.

Melinda squirmed in her seat. “I heard a rumor.”

All eyes turned to her.

She rose to her feet, wringing her hands. “Apparently, Peter has been asking people not to donate. He’s been bribing them with season tickets to the high school football games next season.”

“He wouldn’t, that little louse,” Mrs. Katz said.

“I’m afraid he did.” Melinda sat back down, head hanging. After all, she was related to that louse.