Rules for Secret Keeping by Lauren Barnholdt Page B

won’t look like you’re trying too hard.”
    This is why I love my sister! Honestly, she can be cranky and annoying and sometimes she’s self-absorbed, but when it comes down to it, who else would get the importance of a purple Adidas tote bag in a situation like this?
    Twenty minutes later, I’m all packed up. Taylor has lent me not only her bag, but also these really cute pajamas (Her: “If you spill anything on them, I will kill you!” Me: “All eating will be done before I change into my pajamas, promise!”) that consist of a pink and white shirt and soft cotton pants with hearts all over them. I’m wearing jeans and a red sweater over to Emma’s, and for my karaoke outfit, which Taylor had to explain to me (“No, I don’t think it means you’re going out to do karaoke, they only do that in bars, you’re thirteen—it probably means you’re going to do karaoke at her house and she wants you to dress up like a rock star”), she lent me a really cute short silver dress with beading up and down the skirt, black footless tights, and matching silver ballet flats.
    Taylor has gone back to her room and is on the phoneagain (I can hear her laughter coming through the wall that separates her room from mine), and I am waiting for Tom to get home from work so that he can drive me and Daphne to Emma’s.
    What should I do for the next half hour? I could start my homework, I guess. I pull my math book out and look at it forlornly. Honestly, though, who does homework on a Friday night? I’ll have all day tomorrow to do it. And Sunday, even.
    The doorbell rings, and I hear my mom downstairs opening it.
    And then I hear her say, “Well, hello, Jake, how nice to see you. Did you have a nice summer?”
    What?! Jake! Jake is here! Jake is here, in my house! For the love of God, Jake has come over to see me! I rush over to my mirror and run a brush through my hair, then swipe some more lip gloss over my lips. I squeeze my cheeks the way I’ve seen Taylor’s friend Amanda do when she wants to give them some color. I lean over and look closely at my eyebrows, hoping they don’t look painted on. They don’t. They look great, actually. Thank God for eyebrow pencils! And thank goodness for excellent eyebrow artists, like Jemima. I hope my mom gave her a good tip.
    I’m about to rush down the stairs, but then Jake is at my bedroom door.
    â€œHey,” he says.
    â€œHi,” I say. My stomach does the hugest flip ever, and my heart speeds up. Jake’s wearing blue mesh shorts and a white Quiksilver T-shirt, and he smiles at me and then flops down on my bed.
    â€œDo you guys want a snack?” my mom yells up from downstairs.
    â€œDo you?” I ask Jake.
    â€œSure,” he says, shrugging.
    â€œYes, please,” I yell back. I hear my mom shuffle back to the kitchen. Apparently she is unfazed by the fact that I have a boy in my room, something she would never let Taylor do in a million years. Of course, Taylor’s older than me and has a boyfriend. But still. I’m thirteen! That is definitely old enough to kiss a boy. Unless. Does my mom think that I’m unkissable? Does she think that because Jake has been coming up to my room all the time since we were, like, five that it means he doesn’t want to or won’t kiss me? Does Jake think that? Is that why he is just sitting on my bed, throwing a nerf basketball in the air like it’s nothing? Oh, God, this is confusing.
    â€œWhat’s up?” Jake asks.
    â€œNothing,” I say. “Getting ready to go to a sleepover.”
    â€œAt Daphne’s? You two should hang out with me for a little bit; we could play Guitar Hero or something at myhouse.”
    â€œNo, at, uh . . . at another friend’s house,” I say. I hope he doesn’t ask me who.
    â€œWho?”
    â€œJust this girl,” I clear my throat. “Um, you know Emma?