Faking Perfect Read Online Free Page B

not get pencil smudges all over the couch?”
    Nolan smoothed another line, blurring it, before nodding in his absent, preoccupied way.
    I peeked over at his drawing and came face-to-face with Mr. Teng, our physics teacher. “That’s incredible, Nolan.” It blew me away that he could recreate facial features just from memory. I was barely able to draw a straight line.
    “Eh,” he said, shrugging and closing his sketch pad. “It’s not done yet.” He threw the pad and pencil on the coffee table and stretched out his hand. His fingertips, as usual, were stained black with graphite. “Let’s play Call of Duty .”
    I glanced at my watch. Seven-fifteen. I still had plenty of time. “Okay.”
    He set up the game and handed me a controller. “Want some pretzels?”
    “Sure.” Just as I uttered the word, my stomach let out a thunderous growl. My body felt empty. Concave. When Nolan was halfway up the stairs, I called, “Bring down some cookies too, would you?”
    “Oreos or chocolate chip?” he called back from the top of the stairs.
    “Oreos!” I replied at the same volume. One of my favorite things about this house was the constant, good-natured yelling back and forth, disembodied voices communicating from different rooms of the house. Always loud and chaotic, but rarely angry. At home, I’d never even think to bellow a question to my mother in the kitchen while I was using the toilet or something. But here, I did it just as easily as Teresa called me “sweetie,” the same term of endearment she used for her husband and her sons. And the dog and cat, too.
    While Nolan was up in the kitchen, I sent a text to Emily, letting her know I had the car and could pick everyone up for the movie later. Then, as quick as I dared, I pulled up the message Tyler had sent me an hour ago—can I c u tonite—and tapped out a response.
     
    Yes. 1:00.
     
    “Sorry, all we have left is stale gingersnaps.”
    I startled at Nolan’s voice and shoved my phone back into the pocket of my sweater. “Yum,” I said as he dumped the box in my lap and settled in next to me with a giant mixing bowl of pretzels. I dug into the box and grabbed a handful of cookies, even though I knew no matter how much I tried to relieve the hollow ache in my stomach, I’d never truly feel full.

Chapter Four
    M y mother’s date with Latte Guy must have gone well because she was up bright and early on Sunday, hangover-free and blasting Green Day on the stereo as she vacuumed the living room. For the rest of the day, she cleaned the bathrooms and organized our finances and made a chicken pot pie for dinner. I liked my mother’s New Man phase the best. It was when she most resembled a normal parent. Too bad it never lasted.
    She stayed in maternal mode all day and then went to bed at the reasonable hour of eleven o’clock, where she watched the news instead of Wheel of Fortune . Man, I thought, this new guy must be something special.
    Her good mood still hadn’t waned by Monday morning. When I strode into the kitchen, dressed and ready for school, I discovered half a bagel sitting on a plate in the middle of the counter, a small piece of paper beside it. A note. Have a good day! it said in my mother’s girly script. Two days ago she was screaming at me, and now she was wishing me a good day. I munched on the bagel and shook my head. She was certifiable.
    Like clockwork, Ben’s Acura appeared at my curb at eight-fifteen on the dot. I was standing in the driveway, waiting. As I walked toward the car, I realized something was off. Emily was sitting next to Ben in the front, and Kyla was nowhere to be seen. She could be sick today, I reasoned. But no. When I climbed into the backseat, the crackle of tension in the air told me otherwise.
    “Hey,” I said, storing my backpack next to my feet and buckling my seat belt.
    “Hey,” Emily said, tossing a smile over her shoulder.
    Ben said nothing. Just put the car into drive and hit the gas.
    “Uh,” I