Free The Big Picture by Jenny B Jones

coughed up. “And it has so backfired.”
    James rubs a hand over his evening stubble. “Lying tends to do that.”
    “I know.” I silently implore him not to intervene. “But now I can’t get out of it. It’s just snowballed.”
    He peers over his own perfectly normal glasses. “Can’t get out of it?”
    “The dude’s girlfriend died last week. He said I was like hope from heaven.” Or something like that. “Believe me, I’m about to commit social-life suicide here. If I could get out of this, I would.”
    He lays his hand on my shoulder and gives a squeeze. “I am relying on you to do the decent thing and make this right by the time you get home.”
    “Okay.”
    “And that boy had better see nothing but kindness from you and your friends.”
    “I know. Promise.” I pat his hand. “See you at ten.”
    “Eleven.” James steps back into the house. “I have a feeling you’re going to need that extra hour.”

Chapter nine
    I SLAM MY VAN DOOR shut. “You totally Photoshopped your picture.”
    “What do you mean?” Brian revs up his engine. It may have a fine sound system, but who could hear over the choking noises of the motor?
    “I mean your picture looked a lot like Orlando Bloom.”
    Brian beams. “I am proud to say that picture was me.”
    “Yeah, morphed with the photo of one very famous actor.” This is so what I deserve. “You know, maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. Perhaps — ”
    “I can’t thank you enough for asking me to this party. Even if it is under dubious pretenses, I’m thrilled to be going.”
    I glare at my date, who drives his van to Bubba’s Big Picture as cautiously as any senior citizen.
    “Just to have a few hours in which I won’t think about . . . Felicity. You’ll never know. It’s a huge gift.”
    With a sympathetic nod, I focus on breathing through my mouth so his dangling air freshener doesn’t asphyxiate me. Number one, those things never smell anything remotely like pine. And two, why wouldyou want your car to smell like a big, tall, sappy tree?
    With longing and regret in my eyes, I watch in the mirror as the familiar scenery of my neighborhood gets farther behind us. Maybe I should’ve stayed home. Millie’s been wiped out with her intense chemo this week. Probably needs my help.
    For the next few minutes, I steam. And think. And inwardly freak out.
    Every time I get brave and open my mouth to call off this ill-planned charade, Brian launches into another tale of Felicity. Seriously, I think the poor guy needs some grief counseling.
    Frances leans forward from the back seat. “Okay, Brian, er, Joey, I should say. Just to review, be vague about how you met. Say something about Maxine and your grandpa. No elaborate stories though.”
    Yeah, because we wouldn’t want to lie.
    “And you and Katie are just friends, but you want to make it clear you are really into her.”
    Brian’s eyes rove my way. “I can do that.”
    “Do you have any last minute questions?” Frances asks.
    “No. I think I’ve got it. My name is Joey Farmer. We met through our grandparents. And we’re friends, but I should subtly make it known I’m interested in her.”
    Right. And no snorting.
    “I think he’s going to do just fine, Katie.”
    Of course. Now if only I could snap my fingers and turn him into a six-foot-tall hunk. I glance over at him. He tries to engage Nash in a conversation about a computer game, then sticks his hand out the window to signal a turn. A half-mile before the street.
    Yeah, Charlie’s really gonna be jealous of this. Look out. He’ll probably feel so threatened, he’ll want to fight Brian for me.
    “Sure, I play some video games. My favorite is Guitar Hero . Love that one. How about you?” Nash calls from the back.
    “Never heard of it,” Brian says.
    “How about some Madden ?”
    My date shakes his head. “Who?”
    I sink into my brown seat. Let’s just get this over with. Quickly.
    Brian navigates the beastly van down the