Not a Bestseller

Honesty is Never a Good Policy for Me. Here's Why.

A week after my eavesdropping stakeout with Julia White, the Biggest Group of Losers in History and I were at the usual table inside Stacks. I had shriveled up to make myself invisible.

Did I forget to set up the scene and introduce stuff in this chapter? 

I will tell you that Willie wasn't there, but Kim, Austin, and Stuart were. They'd dragged me there by my hoodie. We were planning to go straight to therapy after we ate. 

That was before they'd started interrogations.

My goal: stay alive and keep my non-existent love-life a secret. I was Ethan Hunt on Mission Impossible. Except this was all too real, and all too possible.

"Sooooo," Stuart said for the umpteenth time. "Who's the girl?"

I flinched. What if he jumped me again? What if everyone else joined in?

My chin firmed as much as it could for a wimpy seventeen-year-old. Dynamics were stringy, everyone was acting as if they'd been possessed by aliens, and I didn't want to participate in pushing life farther into insanity. Everything in my life was the opposite of a pattern. This group wasn't going to join the chaos.

Chirp.

I glanced at my phone. 

Hey, let everyone know I might be a little late.

Okay, Julia. Okay. 

Poker face, Ben, POKER FACE! Tiny Person said.

I don't know what my face did. Maybe my eyes were wider than usual. Maybe my lips had curled up like a freaking psychopath. Maybe my eyebrows had spread slightly across my face. 

Austin grinned. "You're texting her right now, aren't you!?"

Shake your head! Tiny Person squealed. The answer is no. No! Give me a hearty Darth Vader no and shake your head like there's lice in it. Idiot! You have one mission. You're going to blow this for us!  

I froze. 

Kim peeked over my shoulder. "Oh."

Austin turned on her. "WHAT?"

"I don't think you should worry about this right now, Austin."

Stuart moaned, "He's texting the terrorists. I knew it!"

"Shut up, people are staring," Austin said.

"I don't think that's because of me. You've ordered every French fry the restaurant has left, and they're a little cranky. Um, what are you doing?"

 Like a soldier on the Vietnam front lines, Austin bulged his arms across the table and wrapped his hands around my wrists. I dropped the phone. Austin must secretly be a ninja.

I told you to shake your head.

Is it just me, or is Tiny Person much too loud lately?

Austin held my phone like a life-line. There are so many words that I could use to describe this moment. About my unfeeling hands, or the crease building up in my forehead. I'll just say this: I felt like a turkey on the day of Thanksgiving.

"No, no, no, no, no, no."

I expected the self-proclaimed optimist to smile. I thought he would toss back the phone and grin, maybe announce my feelings to the whole restaurant, give Stuart thirty bucks after losing the bet that it was a dude. Instead, he took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes hard in the core.

"Please, tell me you are not crushing on Julia White."

Deny. Deny. Deny.

I looked down at my hands.