by Julie Murphy
Nine
My room is way too small to hold this many people, but it feels full in a good way, like a bustling restaurant on a Friday night.
I’m sitting in my huge wicker chair, which feels more like a throne. Amanda and Hannah sit on my bed with their legs crossed, and Ellen and Will are curled up on the floor like two cats.
“Good night, girls!” calls my dad as he pads down the hallway, and the light pouring in beneath my door disappears.
We kicked off the night with pizza—courtesy of my dad—and a plethora of online quizzes. (Yes, I did google “slumber party activities.” No, I did not expect to be inundated with pornography.) But for now everyone’s just kind of vegged out with their phones. I guess this isn’t a bad slumber party, but it’s not exactly what I had in mind when I imagined us all bonding.
Hannah, in her black leggings and oversized battle of the bands T-shirt, yawns with her entire body as she flops onto her side. “I think I’m actually a forty-year-old trapped in a seventeen-year-old’s body. Is it too early to go to sleep?”
I groan. “Y’all. Come on. We’re all just on our phones, and Hannah, yes, it is too early, okay? It’s only ten thirty.”
She hisses at me but sits up.
“Maybe we should watch a movie,” offers Amanda.
Ellen yawns. “I would just fall asleep.”
“You say sleep like it’s a dirty word,” says Hannah.
Willowdean pops up into a seated position. Her curls sit piled on top of her head and vibrate at even the slightest movement. “Y’all wanna play a game?”
“You hate games,” Ellen says.
“Okay,” says Willowdean. “Well, yeah. But I was just trying to contribute or whatever.” She touches the speck of toothpaste on her chin. “Are you sure this is going to work?” she asks me.
“According to Google, toothpaste is the perfect topical remedy for a pimple,” I say.
Willowdean groans. “This is like one of those horrible under-the-skin ones that just throbs. Can a pimple give you a headache? Is that possible?”
“No,” says Hannah, biting down on her freshly pierced lip. “But you talking about it enough will.”
Amanda leans in a little closer to Hannah. “On a scale of one to OH MY GOD I FEEL THIS PAIN IN MY SOUL, how much did your lip piercing hurt?”
Hannah bites down on the ring again. “The pain wasn’t half as bad as the lecture I got from my mom when she saw it. Changing the rings out is sort of uncomfortable, but Courtney got a piercing apprenticeship, and she needed to practice on something that wasn’t made of silicone. She could’ve used a pig’s ear, but she’s a vegan.”
Ellen shivers. “That’s some serious trust.”
Hannah holds back a smile, but her rosy cheeks give her away.
“Hey, how about that Two Truths and a Lie game?” asks Amanda.
“Yes!” I say a little too loudly. “Everyone, on the floor. Come on!” I tiptoe around Ellen and Will to turn off the bright overhead lights, so that the only sources of light are my two bedside lamps. The room feels instantly more intimate and somehow safer—perfect for secret keeping. I grab the sheet face masks I bought at the drugstore this morning and pass them out.
“What are these?” asks Amanda.
“Face masks,” says Ellen.
Amanda and Hannah stake out their spots on the carpet and I sit leaning up against my bed. We unwrap our face masks and carefully try to place them on our faces, matching up the eye, nose, and mouth holes.
Willowdean screeches. “This thing is freezing.”
Ellen reaches over and helps her smooth out her mask. “Don’t be a baby.”
“I probably should’ve washed the toothpaste off my chin,” Willowdean says through gritted teeth, to stop her mask from slipping down her face.
Hannah looks around at all of us and then glances at her reflection in the reverse camera on her phone. “We look like serial killers.”
Amanda leans over her shoulder so she can see herself, too. “Oh, yeah. Like we’re wearing the skin of our victims or something.”
“Well, I hear these things are very moisturizing,” I say. “And better to look like a serial killer than actually be one, right?”
Hannah looks at me, a faint grin teasing her lips. “I think maybe there’s such a thing as too optimistic.”
“Okay, okay!” says Ellen. “Enough serial-killer talk. Time for Two Truths and a Lie! Who’s going first?”
Hannah shrugs. “Might as well be you.”
“Fine,” says Ellen with a hint of defiance in her voice.
“Better make it good,” says Will. “I know all your secrets.”
Ellen squints, studying the ceiling for a moment, as her tongue just barely sticks out. This must be her thinking face.
“Okay! Okay! I got it. One, I have bigger feet than my boyfriend. Two, a few weeks ago . . . after we, ya know, did it and were cuddling, I farted.”
We all erupt in laughter.
“Oh man,” says Amanda. “That’s gotta be true. Why else would you own up to that?”
El shakes her hands, trying to silence us. “Wait! I’m not done. Three, I started my period at my twelfth birthday party.”
“Well, that’s not very interesting,” says Hannah.
Ellen shrugs. “Harder to tell if it’s a truth or a lie then.”
Will opens her mouth to speak, but Ellen slaps her hand over her lips before she can say a word. “And you have to sit this round out.”
“Mop bare,” says Will, her mouth still covered.
“What was that?” I ask.
Will pulls Ellen’s hand away. “Not fair.”
“I’ll allow it!” I say, mimicking the courtroom dramas my dad watches every Thursday night. “Okay, so let’s see.” I eye Ellen’s feet. “You are pretty tall.”
“So having bigger feet than your boyfriend wouldn’t be that weird,” says Hannah. “But your feet don’t look that big.”
I try to hide my excitement at Hannah’s slight eagerness. She’s like a stray cat—only attracted by disinterest.
“They’re pretty big,” says Willowdean, assuring the rest of us.
“Hey!” I say. “You’re not supposed to be playing this round.”
She mimes zipping her lips together.
“Or maybe he just has abnormally small feet!” says Amanda as she fishes around a bag of gummy bears for her favorite flavor, pineapple.
“And like Amanda said, why would you make up that story about . . . passing gas?” I ask, preferring the more polite phrasing. “But maybe it’s a red herring!”
Willowdean bounces a little, her eyebrows skipping up and down.
“Okay, okay,” says Ellen. “Time’s up.”
Amanda licks her lips. “Uhhh . . . hmmm. Okay, the period at your twelfth birthday party is a lie!”
“I’m gonna say the gastrointestinal incident,” I say after a moment of deliberation.
“I think . . . ,” says Hannah. “I think . . . I agree with Millie.”
“So which is it?” I ask.
“Her period is the lie!” shouts Will. And then she gasps. “Oh my God. I forgot your parents are asleep.”
“It’s okay,” I say, knowing that really my mom is probably lying wide awake in bed, thinking of all the ways Hannah and Willowdean might be corrupting me.
Ellen swats at Willowdean’s arm. “I can’t believe you remembered. I got my period at my thirteenth birthday party. Not my twelfth!”
“Oh, come on!” says Amanda. “That’s a technicality!”
Hannah holds up a finger. “So wait. This means you farted on your boyfriend after doing the nasty?”
Secondary mortification turning to molasses in my chest. “What did you say?”
“Uh, yeah,” says Willowdean. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me this!”
Ellen shrugs. “I pretended to be asleep. And hey, if he wants allllllll of this”—she motions to her body. “Then he can’t pick and choose wh
at he gets. People fart! Girls fart!”
Amanda holds out her fist for Ellen to bump. “Respect. Is it weird that I was hoping the fart was the truth?”
Ellen laughs. “Only if you’re weirded out that it happened, I guess?”
“Why are bodies so weird and gross?” asks Willowdean. “Like, just the phrase body fluids should be illegal. Right up there with moist.”
Ellen leans her head on Willowdean’s shoulder. “You just have a weird complex right now because . . . well, you know . . .”
“You know what?” asks Amanda.
Willowdean holds her hands over her face. “Bo and I have started talking about doing it.”
“And what exactly do you mean by ‘it’?” asks Amanda. “I mean, if you’re gonna do it, at least be able to say it.”
“Sex! Okay?” says Willowdean. “We’re talking about maybe-probably-sooner-than-later having sex, but, like, there are just so many awkward things to think about. And I’m not even talking about him seeing me naked, because, well, we’ve nearly gotten that far.” She sighs. “Isn’t it someone else’s turn?”
I try to pull myself together. But I know my cheeks are beet red. Sex. Wow. I just . . . the thought of being naked in front of someone else. I want to be ready for that one day, but that day is not today. “Okay,” I say. “Amanda’s up next.”
Amanda wiggles on her rear end. “I don’t know if I’m interesting enough for this game.”
“Everyone’s got dirt,” says El.
Amanda nods into her chest, and I think it’s the most serious I’ve ever seen her. “Okay. One, I pulled the fire alarm in middle school to sabotage a pop quiz in Earth Science and blamed it on Patrick Thomas. And I never got caught.”
“Oh my God,” says Willowdean. “Please let that be true.”
“For real,” Hannah chimes in. “That would be straight-up shero status.”
I hate the thought of someone carrying the blame for something they never did, but Patrick Thomas is an exception. He’s the kind of person that probably gets on the internet just to be mean to people he’s never even met. I can’t walk by without him oinking like a pig. Now I just ignore it, which would be fine if I didn’t have to suffer through the pity stares people give me every time it happens.
Amanda clears her throat. “And number three—”
“Oh, wait! I missed number two,” I say. “Sorry. My mind wandered.”
“It’s okay,” Amanda says as she tears open a bag of Runts and digs around for her favorite flavor, banana. “Number two was that I’m adopted.”
The lie. I try not to smile. Amanda isn’t adopted, but her youngest brother, Tommy, is.
“And number three!” she says with a mouth full of banana Runts. “I . . . have never really been sexually attracted to anyone.”
Will sits up, her posture straight as a fence post. “What does that even mean? You talk about Bo’s peach butt all the time. I mean, don’t get me wrong. It’s a great butt.”
My brows furrow, because I know this is one of Amanda’s truths, but I’ve got to admit it’s not something that makes much sense to me. We’ve talked about it before, and the two of us had just figured she hadn’t met the right person. Or maybe I figured that, and Amanda just let me believe it.
“I can appreciate a good butt.” Amanda shrugs. “And who knows? Maybe that’s the lie.”
Hannah’s eyes narrow in on Amanda. “You’re not adopted.”
“What!” says El. “How do you know?”
Hannah tilts her head to the side, like she’s seeing something completely new when she looks at Amanda. “I don’t.”
“I’m recusing myself,” I announce.
“Okay,” says Will. “I think the last one is a lie.”
El’s whole face twists into a knot as she studies Amanda. “I was going to say number one, but I think you’re ballsy as hell, so I bet you did it. And number two . . . I feel like you wouldn’t make that a secret. I mean, some people would, but you’re the kind of person who treats the world like you’ve got nothing to hide. But number three . . . it’s too specific to make up.” She pauses before giving her diagnosis. “Number two is the lie!”
“You would be a great investigator,” I tell Ellen.
She turns to me. “Yeah? I’ve been thinking about going to school for criminal justice.”
Will plugs her fingers in her ears. “Lalalalalalala we are not talking about college and how we’re going to live a bajillion miles away from each other lalalalalala.”
Ellen rolls her eyes and then looks to me. “We can talk later,” she whispers before yanking Will’s hands from her ears. “Okay, Amanda. Give us the deets.”
Amanda pulls in a deep breath. “Number two is the lie.”
Ellen pumps her fist in the air. “Yes! I was right.”
“Okay, okay. Back up,” says Willowdean. “You’ve never had the hots for someone?”
Amanda pulls her knees in to her chest, doing her best to make herself smaller. “Oh, I’ve totally had crushes.” She rests her chin between her two kneecaps. “I can still look at people, like Bo or even girls, too, and find them attractive. But there are lots of different kinds of attraction. And I think I want to be in a relationship one day. I just don’t know what that will look like for me yet. I guess what it comes down to is I don’t experience sexual attraction, and also I don’t really have any interest in sex. At least not right now. I think if I knew someone really well and was attracted to them in other ways, that might change.”
I can feel myself blinking too much, like I’m trying to process this information, but my body is malfunctioning. I know Amanda has never had a boyfriend. Or girlfriend. But I’ve never really thought anything of it. I’ve heard of girls not meeting anyone until college or even after. I just figured it wasn’t a priority for Amanda.
I form my words carefully, like I’m tiptoeing around the edge of a cliff. “Do you—do you think you’ll always feel this way?”
Amanda smiles. “Do you think you’ll always have a crush on Malik?”
My cheeks spark into flames.
“Sorry,” she says. “I just meant that I don’t really know, but it feels pretty permanent for now.”
Hannah lets out a long groan. “Y’all need to get on the damn internet or something. Amanda is asexual. Aren’t you, Amanda?”
Amanda’s gaze connects with Hannah’s and something inside me feels hollow. Amanda is my best friend, and I want to understand her as well as Hannah does in this moment, but I feel like I’m a few steps behind.
“Well,” says Amanda, “technically biromantic asexual. I think.”
“Not to be a total ass,” says Will, “but can someone translate, please?”
Hannah opens her mouth to speak, but Amanda says, “I got this.”
Hannah smiles—a real smile!—and nods.
“So what that means,” explains Amanda, “is that I can experience different kinds of attraction, but I personally don’t have sexual feelings for anyone.” She turns to Will. “Maybe it sounds complicated. But it feels pretty simple to me. And I guess that’s all that matters.”
“But you said you might want to have sex,” says Will, “so how can that happen without sexual attraction?”
Hannah opens her mouth again, but looks to Amanda first, who nods an approval. “It’s like not being hungry, but still being okay with eating pizza or even enjoying it. And then there are some people who just don’t like pizza no matter what.”
Amanda cracks a smile as she nods. “Totally.”
Will nods. “Okay. Okay. I think I get it.”
Hannah smirks. “Congratulations!”
Ellen shrugs. “Sounds good to me.”
And then Amanda looks to me, waiting for me to say something. And the truth is Amanda could be sexually attracted only to people who have detached earlobes, and I wouldn’t care. My mom and dad . . . they have a hard time understanding anything that’s not boy + girl = marriage, house, and baby, but that never
worked for me. So I’m not sad that Amanda is asexual. But I’m just sad she never told me. Or maybe it’s that I wasn’t listening closely enough when she did try to tell me.
“It’s great!” I finally say, my voice too high and too loud. “Whatever makes you happy makes me happy.”
Amanda smiles, but it’s a little strained.
Ellen gasps. “Oh my God! I totally forgot to ask you about your uncle’s gym, Millie!”
I nod, glad for the change of subject. “It’s been such a mess. But the police think they caught the person who organized the whole thing.” Well, actually, they definitely have and I’m the one who cracked the case. But I don’t exactly want that going around school. I don’t mind attention, but I don’t need that kind.
“Are you serious?” asks Will. “Our police department can solve actual crimes?”
Hannah chuckles.
I smile and nod.
“Well, who was it?” asks Ellen eagerly.
I guess everyone will find out soon enough. “Callie Reyes,” I say. “One of the dance-team assistant captains.”
“That bitch!” exclaims Willowdean. She turns to Ellen. “I told you she was awful.”
Ellen rolls her eyes.
“She is pretty horrible,” Amanda says.
“Won’t fight you on that one,” says Hannah. “I heard her best friend hooked up with her boyfriend and she stayed with him and dumped her best friend.”
Ellen sighs. “That’s not actually true. Mainly because she doesn’t really have any friends. But he is kind of a jerk. Super showy about money, and he speeds through school zones, and for some reason that just really pisses me off.”
I shake my head. “No, thank you,” I say.
“Well,” says Ellen, “she’s not exactly a basket of sunshine herself.”
I shake my head. “Now she’s my new coworker.”
“Are you serious?” Willowdean’s eyes go wide with horror.
I nod. “That’s the deal. She wouldn’t rat out anyone else she was with—”
“Are you serious?” asks Hannah. “I didn’t peg her for the loyal type.”
“Of course it was the dance team,” says Amanda.
I cross my arms over my chest. “That’s what makes the most sense with the gym dropping out as a sponsor, but Callie was the only one we could identify on camera, and she wouldn’t give up anyone else. So Sheriff Bell, Uncle Vernon, and her parents agreed she would step down from the dance team and work off the damages at the gym. And I get to train her. When her debt is paid off, Uncle Vernon will drop all charges against her.”