I let out a breath. Fine then. I’ll go as Antonio. She hasn’t seen Antonio in a while. She won’t know the difference. Not if I have a fake scar. I’m sure someone online can help me with that. And I’ll still be able to see Jodie again. I’ll still be able to find out if I still like her, and if I do, then next time I’ll meet her as me and win her over.
Sounds like a plan.
Another message comes in.
Antonio? Are you there?
I type a reply.
I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.
~
The address in Jodie’s message leads me to the suburbs. As soon as I pull into the street, I know which house she’s in. I can see the bright lights spilling out of every window of the third house on the left. I can see the cars parked in front of it. I hear the music blaring.
After I park my car, I take a moment to check how I look. My hair looks fine in the rearview mirror, but I run my comb through it one more time anyway. Antonio’s leather necklace wraps around my neck – we have nearly identical ones, but I borrowed his to make my act more convincing. I borrowed his navy blue bomber jacket because it looks good. It goes especially well with my gray shirt and black pants. To finish the look, I put on leather shoes.
I glance at the mirror again, this time to check my fake scar, the most important piece of my charade. It looks real, thanks to that video I saw and that thing I got from my mom’s bathroom. Good.
One last thing. I check my breath. I’ve been smoking every now and then since last year, but not at home, so my breath smells fresh.
Time to get this show on the road.
I go inside the house. I didn’t bring Antonio’s phone with me so I’m not sure where to find Jodie. It doesn’t take me long to spot her, though. I might not have seen her in years, but the moment my eyes rest on the raven-haired girl sitting by the window in the living room, I know it’s her.
She’s busy doing something on her phone – probably texting Antonio – so I have a few seconds to take in the way she looks. Her black hair flows past her shoulders. She always did like it long. She liked it in braids, too, said it made her feel like a princess. Not anymore, I guess, but she still looks like a princess. No. A young woman. Her lips are painted red, her nails painted pink. Her pink lace blouse hangs off her shoulders while white pants hug her slender legs. White sandals wrap around her feet.
When she sees me, her brown eyes light up, turning almost golden. A light blush brings her cheeks to life. Then her lips curve into the most breathtaking smile I’ve ever seen.
She’s even more beautiful than I thought she’d turn out to be.
“Hey.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear as she walks towards me. “Thanks for coming.”
I feel like kissing her then and there but I simply swallow the lump in my throat.
“Yeah. I got your message so…”
Shit. Why do I suddenly feel stupid?
“I didn’t keep you from doing something important, I hope,” Jodie says as she fidgets with the sleeve of her blouse. “I know you’re busy.”
“Never too busy to help an old friend out,” I say with a smile.
That sounds better.
Her cheeks turn slightly darker as she purses her lips. “Thanks.”
“Though you don’t look old,” I add. “Not more than fifteen.”
She chuckles and pats my arm playfully. “That’s because I am fifteen, silly. Same as you.”
I know.
“You haven’t changed much.” I say as I touch my chin. “I knew it was you right away.”
“Really?”
She crosses her arms over her chest, drawing my attention to it for the first time. Not much there. Then again, she’s only fifteen.
“What gave me away?”
I narrow my eyes as I think. “Your hair?”
She takes a few strands between her fingers. “Hmm.”
“And the fact that you still like pink.”
She chuckles. “Of course I do. I’m a girl.”
That she’s always been. I’m more aware of it now.
“How are your mom and dad?” Jodie asks me.
“Good,” I answer. “My mom still bakes. You should come over and try her cranberry muffins again sometime.”
She gasps. “I loved those.”
“I know. Maybe you can ask for the recipe now.”
She puts up a finger. “Good idea. I think I will.”
“Mind you, she still likes to preach, too. She might not give you that recipe if she finds out you haven’t been going to church.”
Jodie’s expression turns worried.
“Just kidding,” I tell her. “She likes you. She’ll give you the recipe.”
She puts a hand on her chest and lets out a sigh of relief.