Paula Stokes - The Art of Lainey

Oh. That. I never really thought about it. I guess at five eight I am almost as tall as he is.

“Wow,” Bianca says. “It’s like you guys are already dating.”

We both give her a dark look, but she’s got a point. Micah and I sat next to each other in fourth and fifth grade, back before I got popular and he went all freaktastic rocker boy. Maybe that’s why I still feel like I know him, even though we haven’t really said much more than “Excuse me” and “Do you have any more of those Caribou Cookies?” in years. My heart starts skipping in my chest. This plan could actually work.

I give him my most pleading look. “I’ll wear flats. Come on. Do it for Amber.”

Micah gets up and heads to the kitchen. He looks back at me over his shoulder right before disappearing into the back. “I’ll think about it.”

After torturing me for a couple of days, Micah finally calls. “So how would this work anyway?” he asks.

I flop down on my bed. “We pretend like we’re dating and take each other to places where we know our exes will see us.” I cross my fingers as I glance around my room full of Jason mementos. Micah has to agree—he has to. I can’t ask just any guy to fake-date me. He needs this too. It’s like fate delivered him into my lap.

“And you think it’s that simple?”

“I think it’s a start.” Without mentioning The Art of War, I explain about leveling the playing field.

“So how long would we keep up this charade?”

“Good question. What about five dates each?” I suggest.

He whistles long and low. “That’s a lot of quality time together.”

“Well, what about either side can terminate the agreement early if it’s not working out,” I say. “I wouldn’t want us to spend our whole summer being miserable or anything.”

“What about rules?” he asks. “Things we can and can’t do?”

“Rules, yes. Good call. I think we both should be able to make any rules we want, but I haven’t thought that far in advance. Does that mean you’re in?”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute and I feel like he just needs one more nudge. “I’ll even let you have the first date,” I offer. “That way if it’s a disaster, we can call it quits and you haven’t wasted any time at all.”

“You are one determined chick.” He laughs under his breath. “Sure your ex-boyfriend is worth all this trouble?”

Two and a half years of kisses and late night texting and almost perfect life as Jason’s girlfriend flashes in my head. And then the thought of my senior year ruined while I watch from the sidelines as he hangs out with all of our mutual friends.

“Positive,” I say.

I meet Micah at his apartment at the end of the week for our first official “date.” His room looks about like I expected: band posters, mounds of dirty laundry, black sheets taped over the windows.

“You know, they have these things called curtains.” I stand with my back against the wall. There’s no way I’m sitting down in here.

Micah is sprawled across his unmade bed. He looks up from the TV long enough to roll his eyes. “So, the rules. What are they? You strike me as the kind of girl who probably came up with a thousand of them.”

“Actually I only have a few.” I clear my throat. “Number one: no telling anyone else about the plan.”

Micah nods. “Okay.” His eyes flick back to the TV. He’s watching the Cartoon Mayhem channel—an episode of Happy Cheetah.

“Two: no touching. Three: absolutely no kissing.”

“As much as I have no desire to turn myself orange by brushing up against you and your spray-paint tan, I think we might have to touch occasionally to look like we’re dating,” Micah says.

“Fine. Minimal touching.” I hold out my arm and admire my silky bronzeness. “And by the way, this isn’t orange. It’s Desert Glow.”

“More like glow in the dark.” He yawns. “Is that all you got?”

I nod. “Go ahead. What are your rules?”

“I’m kind of a no-rules guy.” He turns to me, a slow smile spreading across his face. “I’m curious, though. What are you going to tell your friends? And your parents? That getting dumped by Jason drove you to the dark side?”

“Well, Bianca knows and Kendall is out of town. They’re the main ones I talk to outside of soccer. And my parents are pretty laid-back as long as I’m home for curfews, so I don’t have to tell them anything specific. I mean, for all they know we’re just work friends hanging out.”

Micah snorts, as if the idea of us hanging out as work friends is all kinds of hilarious. “So no other rules?” he asks. “At all?”

The way he’s looking at me makes me feel like there should be tons more, but I can only think of one. “No making up X-rated stories about me.”

He runs a hand through his mohawk. “What about R-rated?”

“I’ll give you PG-13.”

“Middle school kids can get pretty rowdy these days.” Micah licks his lips suggestively.

“That’s your sister you’re talking about, right?” I say sweetly.

“Not cool.” He throws a pillow at me. “Ugh, she’s actually going to be a freshman.”

As if she can sense us talking about her, Micah’s sister pokes her head into the room without even knocking. “Oh, hey,” she says. “I’m Trinity. I just wanted to say hi.”

“Hi. I’m Lainey.” I give her a smile and a beauty pageant wave. I’ve seen Trinity hanging out at Denali, but today is the first time we’ve officially met. She has dark brown hair like Micah, with little streaks of blue and green protruding from behind her left ear. She’s wearing a flowered dress, a trucker hat, and these weird black shoes shaped like cats. It’s a mix of masculine, feminine, and just plain weird that I don’t think I could pull off, but it totally works for her.

“I know who you are.” She giggles. Micah punches the volume on the TV up a couple of notches. “Cool, Happy Cheetah. Is this the episode where Cheetah and Bipolar Bunny go to the zoo to torment Anxiety Zebra?” She looks back and forth from Micah to me.

“I have no idea,” I say.

“Lainey’s not into Happy Cheetah,” Micah changes the channel to an episode of Celebrity Sightings. “This is more her speed.”

He’s right. I listen as celebrity reporter Ashton Leigh reports the latest updates on Caleb Waters and Flyboys.

“Flyboys is the story of two Air Force pilots who get kicked out of the military for reckless behavior and have to try to make a living as commercial pilots,” Ashton chirps. She flicks her stick-straight blonde hair back over her shoulder. “Currently the crew is filming scenes in Chicago.” The camera cuts to some grainy footage of Caleb Waters in what looks like a hotel.

“Ohmygod,” I say as Micah flips back to Happy Cheetah. “Chicago! That’s pretty close. What if Caleb Waters comes here?”

“Ohmygod,” Micah mimics. “I’m getting all horny just thinking about it.”

I wrinkle up my nose. “Ew, don’t talk like that in front of your little sister.”

“Don’t talk like that in front of your date,” Trinity chimes in.

It is superweird to hear myself referred to as Micah’s “date.”

Trinity clasps her hands together and I notice her fingernails are painted blue and green to match the streaks in her hair. “So, Lainey,” she says like she’s known me for years. “I’ve been wanting to tell you how much I love your commercial.”

Micah makes a gagging sound without looking away from the TV. “I can’t wait to go to Hazelton Forest University,” he says in a high-pitched voice. “I’m doing a double major in soccer and celebrity stalking and a minor in tanning. It’s going to be totally to die for!”

Trinity laughs. A big laugh that shows a lot of gums and teeth. I used to laugh like that, before Kendall informed me belly laughing was uncool, especially with big horsey teeth like mine.

“Those would be the best majors ever,” I admit. I smile at Trinity. She’s so enthusiastic about everything. It’s pretty cute. “I like your streaks,” I tell her, mostly because I know how much being complimented by a popular senior will mean to her.

Trinity’s eyes go so wide that she looks like one of those anime girls my brother used to be obsessed with. “Really? I could give you one.”

“I, uh—” Crap. This is what I get for trying to be nice.

“I’ll use a clip instead of glue so you can take it out right away if you don’t like it.” She looks so hopeful that I can’t bear to tell her no.

Micah, apparently, isn’t as reluctant. “Let her be, Trin. Lainey would look weird with one of your extensions.”

“I would not.” Turning to Trinity I say, “Hook me up. I think I would look cool.”

She smiles her huge smile again. “Awesome sauce! Be right back.”

She returns carrying a camouflage tackle box and when she pops open the lid, I can see it’s full of jewelry, makeup, and hair extensions.

“Pick a color.” She’s got little swatches of hair in every color of the rainbow.

I reach for a teal one. “It’ll match my work shirt.”

Trinity cocks her head to the side and toys with one of her streaks as she looks me over. She fingers the top of my hair and then the area behind my left ear, her pale forehead crinkling up in concentration. I feel a little self-conscious, which is ridiculous. I mean, she’s a kid. Still, I wonder what she thinks of my outfit. Micah wouldn’t tell me where he was taking me, so I tried to dress as rocker as possible, which isn’t too easy when your wardrobe consists mostly of secondhand designer dresses and pastel tank tops. I opted for a black T-shirt dress and the biggest, most metallic jewelry I own. I flattened my hair extra straight. It’s so shiny it’s almost reflective.