“We can’t,” Alyssa says. “And don’t make up another one of your fake illnesses. No one will believe it after you were gone a week.”
“You faked being sick?” I ask Peyton. “That’s why you were gone last week?”
“I didn’t fake it,” she insists. “I thought I was pregnant.”
“She always thinks that,” Alyssa mutters.
“You really thought you were pregnant?” I say to Peyton.
“I felt fat and like I was going to throw up. But it turned out it was just really bad PMS. That’s why I can’t cheer today. I’m recovering.”
“And I hurt my wrist,” Alyssa says, holding it up. “It looks okay but it hurts.”
“Better watch out, girls,” a guy says as he walks past us. “Halliway might punch your pretty little faces.”
“Shut up, Sawyer,” Peyton says, flipping her hair.
He continues down the bleachers, looking back and smiling at me.
“Who’s that?” I ask.
“An asshole who used to go here,” Alyssa says. “He’s in college now but his sister goes here so he shows up at the games. Peyton used to date him.”
“Isleptwith him,” she says, correcting her. “I wouldn’t date that asshole.”
“Another touchdown.” Alyssa sighs. “I wish they’d hurry up and win so we could skip ahead to the party.”
“Rumor can’t go. She’s grounded,” Peyton says with a laugh. “She hasn’t learned how to sweet talk the parents.”
“Brock isnotmy parent,” I clarify. “He’s my controlling asshole uncle.”
“Just sneak out,” Peyton says. “He’s not going to notice.”
“He has cameras recording my every move.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to stay in your room and sext your mystery man.”
“You’re dating someone?” Alyssa asks, sounding surprised.
“No. Peyton just assumes I am because she read a text on my phone from a friend back home.”
“He said how much he missed her.”
I glare at Peyton. “You really want that nose job, don’t you?”
“I don’t know why it’s such a big secret. Is he married and doesn’t want people finding out about you?”
“No! I wouldn’t date a married guy!”
“She’s dated one,” Alyssa says, motioning to Peyton. “His wife showed up at school. She hired some guy to find out who he was cheating with. She even had pictures.”
“Seriously?” I say to Peyton.
She shrugs and flips her hair. “It wasn’t a big deal. I told her it wasn’t me and that her husband was doing it with the nanny. We almost look like twins so in the blurry pictures she had from her investigator, it could’ve been the nanny.”
“And his wife believed you?”
“Of course.” Her lips curl up into a smile. “I can make anyone believe anything.”
