Lie to Me

by Kaitlin Ward

  “Listen, I know this is probably dumb. That’s why I’m making my weird list alone in the library. It’s just something I can’t quite … I can’t wonder about it and do nothing, so I’ve gotta do something.”

  He nods like this all makes perfect sense. “I’ll help you, if you want.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because you don’t think a whole lot of me.” He holds up a finger when I start to protest, then leans in closer and hypnotizes me with those blue, blue eyes. “And I plan on doing whatever it takes to change your mind.”

  I don’t know what to say, so I scratch my palm again and say nothing.

  “Does that hurt?” He gestures to my wrist.

  “Not really. Mostly it just itches.”

  “How’s the rest of you?”

  I narrow my eyes. “You mean how’s my head, right?”

  “I see that I’ve touched a nerve. But no, I wasn’t asking specifically about your head. You must have more injuries than your head and your wrist.”

  “I had a lot of bruises, but they’re all pretty much gone now. My ribs are still a little sore, and my left kneecap for some reason. My head is … It’s fine.”

  “I’m sorry about your left kneecap. And whatever it is in your head that’s still bothering you.”

  I reach for the necklace that isn’t there. I guess I’m never going to break that nervous habit. “It’s only occasional headaches. A little vertigo. Common post-concussion stuff. But I don’t like having that little missing piece of memory.”

  “That’s pretty common, too, though, isn’t it?” He leans closer to me, and I can smell his cologne. Not too strong; the perfect amount. “That you don’t remember the time surrounding a concussion?”

  “Yeah.” I frown at the table. “But just because something’s common doesn’t mean it’s fun.”

  “You really don’t remember it? At all?”

  I shake my head. “And I’m told I never will.”

  “Huh.” He looks pensive.

  “I know. It’s a regular soap opera over here.”

  He laughs, and it makes me feel like I’m experiencing a memory.

  “I think someone was laughing,” I blurt out. He looks baffled, so I elaborate. “When I was, um, had my accident. When you laughed, I had the strongest feeling that I remembered laughter while I was falling.”

  His eyebrows lift, surprised. “Like, a man laughing?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know what it sounded like, I just think … it was there.”

  “So you can remember things, then. It’s coming back to you.” There’s an intensity to his gaze that sends a thrill down my spine. “Maybe you’ll remember everything after all.”

  “I don’t think so. The doctors seemed confident that I wouldn’t, and I’ve tried everything I could think of to trigger something more. The laughter was probably something I already remembered, and I didn’t realize it. Another sensory thing, like being pushed or the feeling when my necklace broke free. Or it could be nothing. When I mentioned those things to my nurse at the hospital, she seemed to think that I should tell my doctor, but he was kind of … He said that it can be really confusing when you’re trying to recall a memory that isn’t there and that I’m probably projecting. I think I explained that badly, but I … Well, you don’t want to hear all this.”

  “Yes, I do.” He leans toward me again, and I’m uncomfortable with how not-uncomfortable his nearness feels.

  “Why?” The question comes out as a whisper. I should stop asking him that, but I don’t understand why he even cares.

  “Because if I’m going to help you, as I told you already that I will, I’ve gotta know everything. Besides, no one ever got bored listening to someone talk about something this wild.”

  I smile, pushing my glasses higher on my nose. “You think I can’t make this boring?”

  He leans back in his seat and returns my smile, only his is smoldering. “I’d like to see you try.”

  * * *

  As my friends and I head down to the soccer field for a game a couple of days later, I find myself thinking about Liam. It’s a welcome change, to be honest, from my recent Grace fixation. Even with the whole Hunter complication, it’s simpler to be interested in Liam. I’ve dated boys before, and the familiarity of having a crush on a boy is feeling pretty good with everything else uncertain in my life right now.

  My justice notebook sits among all the others in my backpack, outwardly unremarkable. But its pages aren’t so aggressively blank as they were yesterday.

  Liam helped a lot—and by that I mean he completely took over. He told me creating a numbered to-do list wasn’t helpful unless there were actual linear steps. That I should create action items with checkboxes so I can feel accomplished.

  He’s actually kind of a major dorky weirdo, and I’m into it. Which I hate. Hunter would loathe how much time we’ve spent together already. Maybe I shouldn’t care so much what my brother thinks about who I’m interested in, and usually I don’t. But Liam and Hunter have a history that long predates me even knowing Liam existed. Hunter’s dislike of Liam is kind of his one high-maintenance thing, so I’ve always respected it. But should I? Liam seems interested in me all of a sudden, and while that triggers questions from the suspicious side of me, it’s also … Well, it’s always nice to be wanted.

  It’s a perfect day for watching soccer. The sky overhead is pure blue, its edges lined with splashes of stray clouds like spilled milk. And according to Hunter, the team we’re playing isn’t very good, so it should be an easy win. The whole environment is so relaxed compared to normal. It’s like all the fans know this won’t be close and they don’t need to be tense. I’ve been fighting a losing battle against a headache all day, but I’m hoping that pretending it doesn’t exist will eventually make it go away.

  “Who wants to bet with me on who will score the most goals?” Grace asks. “Ten bucks says Hunter.”

  “I’m so not stepping into that minefield,” I say. She’s probably right about Hunter; he’s played well lately, and Liam’s been a little off this season. My theory is that his twisted ankle is still bothering him, even though the only time he’s mentioned it was that one day when I saw him in the hallway of the athletic building.

  “Me neither,” says Roman.

  “I’ll do ten on Liam, if you all swear not to tell Hunter.” Sky digs in her pocket, retrieving some crumpled bills.

  “Betrayal!” I fake gasp, and she shoves me. She may not be his sister, but Hunter would be just as mad to learn that she bet against him as he would if I’d done it.

  “I never make gambles I’m not sure about,” Tera says.

  “Yeah, when I think risk-taker, you’re the last person I think of,” Grace says sarcastically.

  “With money.” Tera sticks out her tongue. “But fine, I’ve only got eight dollars, but I’ll put it on Liam.”

  Grace takes her money gleefully. “I better win. There’s this new eyeliner I’ve been wanting to try, but it costs, like, thirty dollars.”

  “Thirty dollars?” Roman asks incredulously. “What is it, made of gold?”

  “Platinum.” Grace laughs. “Hey—there goes Hunter. I’m one up!”

  “I’m already regretting my choices,” Sky mutters.

  While my friends watch the game, deeply invested in their bet, I watch the stands. Soccer games at St. Elm used to be sparsely attended events. There wasn’t much to see, and it’s not as popular a fall sport here as football is. But Hunter and Liam have made it fun to watch. It isn’t only that they’re talented—which they both very much are—but the way they’ve led the team. Even as freshmen, they were leaders. Their personal rivalry has never been a factor on the field. They set it all aside and work together seamlessly to keep their team on track. And they’ve attracted an audience for the games that goes beyond just family members.

  As I look across the faces of all those enthusiastic soccer fans, I can’t help but think about how little w
e ever really know about the people around us. The strangers, I mean. Unless there are obvious signs, you don’t know anything about what they’re really like. The guy screaming at the ref might go home and be the best dad in the world. The one sitting quietly and clapping politely for both teams could be a murderer.

  We like to think if we do everything right and don’t make dumb choices, we’ll be safe, but the reality is that anyone could be thinking about hurting you at any time and you may never even know it.

  The person who tried to kill me could be in these stands right now. I shudder thinking about it.

  Liam scores a goal, and Sky cheers way too loudly next to my ear.

  “Careful,” I tell her, “or Hunter might banish you from our car.”

  She hooks her arm around mine. “You would never let him do that.”

  I smirk. “Or would I?”

  Grace leans forward from behind us, resting her chin on both our shoulders. The smell of her perfume ties my stomach in a knot. Her hand grazes my lower back, and I don’t know if it’s on purpose or not, but I really hope not because otherwise it seems almost cruel, knowing what she knows about how I feel. Or maybe she’s just trying to maintain normalcy. It’s so hard to tell.

  “I know you said you were staying out of it,” she says, “but who would you have bet on?”

  “Hunter,” I say easily, though I’m not sure it’s true. “But I wouldn’t want you to have to split your winnings. You should get that eyeliner.”

  She grins broadly, which tightens the knot in my stomach. I want to tell her I changed my mind, that I would actually bet on Liam, but I’d only be saying it out of spite, and I try to reserve spite for people who really deserve it. Looking for signs that Grace might be jealous of Liam is not a good reason.

  The game isn’t close, and neither is the bet. Hunter scores double the amount of goals Liam does.

  And when it’s over, Sky and I start across the field to meet Hunter, like usual, but I see Liam and accidentally-on-purpose get separated from Sky in a crowd of players and family members so I can head in his direction. Because that’s who I’ve become, I guess.

  “Great job today,” I tell him.

  He shrugs. “Hunter played better.”

  “Scoring more goals doesn’t necessarily mean someone played better.”

  He gives me a flat look.

  “Oh come on, Liam. You don’t need to be this hard on yourself. It wasn’t a challenging game for either one of you, so it’s not like you had to pull out your best performances.”

  That elicits a small smile from him, finally. “Yeah, I guess I don’t get as much satisfaction from easy victories.”

  “Personally, I like to take satisfaction from all levels of victory. It’s really just an opportunity to brag about how great you are; you don’t need to mention the part about how unworthy your opponent was.”

  “You’re so wise.” He smiles at me again, but then his gaze is drawn elsewhere. I follow it and see him watching my brother. Hunter’s surrounded by my parents and Sky and Sky’s parents and a few other people from Maple Hill who came just to watch him play. Liam’s dad used to come to his games sometimes when he was a freshman, but I don’t think I’ve even seen his father since Liam got a driver’s license. Aside from whatever went on between Liam’s parents before his mom left the picture, it’s never been a secret that Liam’s dad didn’t want kids and that he remains bitter about the responsibility. That’s not something I should know, probably, but it’s something I’ve overheard my parents gossiping about before with their friends. Parents sometimes forget that we have ears, I think. I make a mental note to add Liam’s dad to my list of suspicious people for no reason other than that he gives me a bad vibe.

  “We always go for ice cream after games if it’s not freezing out,” I tell Liam. “You wanna join us?”

  The flat look returns. “That’s a nice offer, but I think I’ll pass.”

  “But you just—”

  “I’ll see you Monday, okay?” he interrupts quickly, gives me a much more forced smile, and walks away.

  I feel bad as I turn to join my family. Bad because I don’t know why Liam rejected my offer—was it Hunter, or have I been misreading all his signals?—and bad because it doesn’t seem fair that Liam has just as much talent as Hunter but no one to care about it.

  And, I realize, I might want to be his person who cares. I don’t feel bad about that, though. Not at all.

  I’m in the woods near my house looking for insects when Tera texts me Saturday morning.

  Grace and I are at Roman’s. Come over!!!

  I hesitate for a fraction of a second, because I texted Sky earlier, but she hasn’t replied yet, so what the heck. Besides, I can hunt down backyard insects anytime.

  On my way!

  Roman’s house is across the river. Hen Falls is in Vermont, but he’s actually less than two miles from my house, unlike school, which is a twenty-minute drive.

  I like to say I’m not athletic, but when Hunter was a freshman and I was an eighth grader, he convinced me to start going for runs with him in the early morning when he said it was too creepy to go alone. I grumbled at first. A lot. But now I kind of love it.

  So I change into capri leggings, a tank top, and a light zip-up jacket that fits over my cast without much trouble. Then I grab my headphones, text Mom where I’m going, and set off. My entomology podcast drowns out any noise around me, and I’m able to completely ignore the enthusiastic wave of greeting from Mr. Omerton. He’s standing on his porch, watching me leave, but I pretend to be too immersed in my run to notice. Eventually, I’ll need to talk to him if I’m going to eliminate him from my list. Or, you know, not eliminate him. But I’m not remotely up for it today.

  My doctor cleared me for exercise last week, but running … hurts. I was mostly joking with Liam about my left kneecap, but running amplifies the pain of the injury. My whole body got so jostled by my fall that it’s not enjoying this activity whatsoever. I grit my teeth and power on, but when I pass by the grade school, I slow to a walk, feeling dizzy and frustrated. My head clears as I reach the library, and I pick up my pace again. Turn left at the town hall and start toward the bridge leading into Hen Falls. The Hen Falls Reservoir is to the left of the bridge. It’s much smaller than the Comerford Dam, and I’m not next to any steep embankment, but still my heart races as I approach.

  Water isn’t what hurt you, I remind myself.

  But it killed Maria Lugen, my brain argues back. And if that tree hadn’t caught you, you’d have drowned just like she did.

  The river has become a Thing for me. Every day when Hunter drives us across the bridge to school, I hold my breath. My imagination goes wild with visions of my lungs filling up with water. I escaped death so narrowly, and I’m afraid the universe won’t let it stand. That I was meant to die by water and, eventually, I will.

  I look at the road behind me and the road across the bridge, and I avoid the pedestrian walkway that lines one edge, opting to run down the middle of the road instead. A car approaches from behind me just as I reach the Vermont side of the bridge and swerve casually back to the edge of the road like I’ve been there this whole time. It’s stupid, really, because I could die getting hit by a car as easily as drowning in the river.

  I’m still anxious when I reach Roman’s a few minutes later, and I’m relieved that my friends aren’t outside so I have a minute to catch my breath. I had to start walking again shortly after the bridge. Jogging is too much for me apparently. Another thing I can’t do because my stupid body won’t heal already. I wipe my glasses clean on my jacket, pacing in a slow circle until I feel like myself again.

  Roman’s apartment is in a big, beautiful house. It’s common here. We have so many of these huge old homes that lend themselves perfectly to being segmented into apartments. This house has four, and Roman’s is at the back of the house, farthest from the road. His mom is sitting in the living room when I walk in. She’s reading a book with
some pretty serious abs on the cover.

  “Hi, Amelia.” She smiles at me. “They’re up there.”

  She gestures toward Roman’s room. It’s up a steep set of ladder-like stairs that enters a massive closet (which we all agree is wasted on Roman). His bedroom is beyond that, and his door is open. They’re all three sitting on the floor in front of his bed. Grace is heckling while Roman and Tera play Mario Kart. I know better than to distract either of my fiercely competitive friends from the game, so I slip in quietly and sit next to Grace. My rib twinges.

  “Tell me you didn’t jog here,” she says, plucking at the end of my pant leg.

  “It’s not that far. Hunter has the car. I think he’s at some soccer thing.”

  “Nope,” says Roman, not glancing away from his game for even a second. “I texted Liam earlier, and he’s coming over in a bit.”

  “Oh. Well, I wasn’t really listening when Hunter told me what he was doing.” This is a complete lie. I’m positive he told me he was going to school for a mandatory soccer workout.

  I’d like to say it was most likely Liam skipped it, but like Hunter, he would never. So … why is my brother lying to me?

  “Liam’s never hung out with us before. Why all of a sudden?”

  I can feel Roman rolling his eyes at me, even looking at the back of his head. “I think you know why.”

  I adjust my glasses, wishing I hadn’t asked. Grace stretches and leans her back against the side of the bed, which puts space between us.

  “So you’re feeling okay enough to jog again?” she asks. She’s too observant.

  “I walked some of the time. It wasn’t bad.”

  Tera defeats Roman with a loud shriek of victory that nearly startles me out of my skin.

  “Well, that was unnecessary,” says Grace dryly. I’m grateful Tera distracted her. “Does this mean we can go outside now?”

  I can tell Roman is stewing in his loss and dying for a rematch, but Tera kisses his cheek and says, “Yeah, absolutely.”