The F-boy Project

Chapter 9: Can't Be Fake

Can't Be Fake

Something wasn't right.

I relooked through the journal. It had been three days since Mercedes and I began the project. So far, it had been going good. Until now.

"She missed an entry," I mumbled to myself, sitting back against my headboard on my bed. I blinked, moving the last two pages where she had done third and fourth period, but no second. I narrowed my eyes, and that was when I caught it.

Mercedes had ripped out a page.

On top of that, on the latest page, she had scribbled out something. It looked to be a header, like for a story title, along with a capital T.

I slowly set the journal down, trying really hard not to be pissed off to the extreme. Mercedes and I had been best friends forever; we told each other everything. Or so I thought. It was like I didn't even know my own best friend anymore.

As if on cue, my phone started ringing, and from the ringtone, it was her.

Pushing my anger to the side, I answered.

"Hey Mercedes."

"Hey Val, we still on for 360 Horizon?" she asked, sounding as if she was out of breath.

I glanced at the journal before replying. "Yeah we are. You okay?"

"What? Oh, yeah, I'm fine. Just, you know, fake baby duties and stuff. I gotta get back in shape." she said, and her voice seemed slightly defensive.

She was totally hiding something and I was determined to figure out what it was.

"Soo, I'll be there in ten?" I asked.

"Yeah. See you," Mercedes said shortly and hung up immediately, something she rarely did.

What the hell was that bitch hiding?

*

I walked into 360 Horizon, our local coffee shop and everyone's regular hang out place. Almost instantly, I spotted Mercedes in our normal booth, near the window. She looked up from her phone, as if trying to find someone else, before setting her eyes on me. She grinned, and I went to the table, sitting down across from her.

"I can't believe it's finally the weekend!" she exclaimed, stretching her arms.

"Yeah," I said, barely giving her a glance. I was starting to feel nervous, and I fiddled with my purse zipper to distract me.

"Here are your drinks," our waiter said, coming over to us. I looked up, shocked to see Tyler standing there with two iced cappuccinos.

"Oh yeah, forgot to say I ordered for us," Mercedes gave me an apologetic look, taking the drinks from Tyler.

"So who has her?" Tyler asked once Mercedes had handed me my drink.

"Uh, my mom's watching her right now. So I guess I have her this weekend," Mercedes replied, nodding.

"Rotate every weekend then?" he mused.

She shrugged. "Sure. And then during the week it's every other day?"

"Sounds like a deal," Tyler nodded, then excused himself to see another table.

I waited until he was out of earshot to hiss at Mercedes. "What the hell was that? So are you two talking again now? You know, if I remember correctly, three years ago you told me you never wanted to speak to him again and here you are, talking normally without glares or rude gestures."

Mercedes gave me a surprised look. "You do realize me and him have to talk because we're doing a project, right? A baby project, to be exact, and his grade is my grade and vice versa."