Dare You to Lie

by Amber Lynn Natusch

  Her gaze darted over to a nearby kid, who was clearly talking to her. Her nose scrunched up like she’d just smelled something awful, and she walked away from him in a hurry.

  I pulled my earbuds out.

  “Aw, c’mon, Tabby. I just want to know if the carpet matches the drapes.”

  Her faced flushed so red that it almost blended in with her curly chin-length-bob haircut. Captain Curious laughed with all his asshat friends, thinking they were clearly the shit for picking on the new girl. If they wanted a new girl to pick on, I’d give them one.

  “So, you’re interested in interior decorating?” I shouted across the room at him. He and his group of jackasses turned to face me. “I’m going to let you in on a little secret.” I leaned forward over the table as if I were going to tell them something juicy. The new girl hovered nearby, her eyes darting back and forth between me and the guys. “You know what she is? She’s the room in your parents’ house that you’re not allowed in. The one with the nice couches and fancy tables and knickknacks and crap that you’re too clumsy to be around because God knows you’d break them.” He looked at me with confusion that quickly bled to anger. “It doesn’t matter if the drapes and carpet match in that room,” I said. “You know why? Because you’re never going in there. Understand?”

  He scoffed at me, looking to his friends for support.

  “Shouldn’t you be trying to get your dad out of jail or something?”

  “Or dying of embarrassment?” his unhelpful friend added.

  “But if I died, I wouldn’t get to enjoy this special time with you fine gentlemen.”

  “That’s okay, A-cup. I’ve seen your goods. We all have. We don’t need to spend any special time with you.”

  They all laughed heartily.

  I could feel the blood leave my face even when I tried to force it to stay. I was used to people saying things about my father. I was less prepared to have the internet scandal of my past thrown in my face.

  While I tried to collect myself and throw something back his way, the new girl stepped in.

  “Hey,” she snapped, drawing their attention.”Yes, my curtains match the drapes, you idiot. And from what I’ve heard in the few weeks I’ve been here, the only thing I’d get if I let you near either is a healthy case of crabs.” She placed her hands on my table and leaned forward at them like a CEO talking to her minions. “Those are lice that live down there,” she whispered, pointing down toward their nether regions.

  “Shut up, you stupid immigrant! Why don’t you go back to your third-world country? Stop mooching off our tax dollars.”

  “I’m from Canada, you moron. And I’m here legally. My dad runs the plant that your dad works for. We pay taxes.” She shot me a bewildered expression. “Are all Americans this ignorant?”

  I looked up at her, wondering where in the hell this burst of confidence had come from, then realized it didn’t matter. It was funny as hell, so I laughed. Hard.

  The target of her insults and his befuddled companions were stumped for the first time since class started, and they chose to tuck tail and run rather than tangle with the spirited redhead. She, however, just smiled down at me before joining in with my hysterics. With an inelegant motion, she flopped down at my table two seats over and laughed until tears formed in the corners of her eyes.

  And that was how the new girl and I became outcast allies.

  * * *

  It turned out that the new girl, Tabby, was a whiz at school—one of those book-smart, socially awkward types. Apparently wherever she’d attended before moving to the United States was way ahead of Jasperville’s curriculum, so she’d already learned everything we had planned for the year. By the end of study hall, I was already halfway caught up on physics. Sticking up for Tabby was going to give me a stellar GPA.

  The bell rang, and I started shoving my books into my bag. When I got up to leave, Tabby stood beside me smiling, her books once again clutched to her chest.

  “What class do you have now?”

  “Gym.” The way I groaned my reply let her know just how excited I was.

  “Great! Me too. Let’s go. Ms. Davies can get pissy if you aren’t dressed and in the gym in a timely fashion.”

  “Yeah. Seems everyone around here is a stickler for punctuality. It’s like they’re trying not to let the patients run the asylum. So weird…”

  She looked at me strangely for a second, then laughed.

  “You’re funny. Are you always this funny? Are you actively trying to be? Or do things just come out that way?”

  “It’s a reflex. I can’t control it. I’ve been afflicted with a terrible case of sarcasm for which there is no cure.” I sighed in my most put-upon way. “It is my burden to bear, but bear it I shall.”

  “With grace, no doubt,” she replied with a smile.

  “Is there any other way?”

  “I’m sure if there was, you’d have found it by now.”

  I looked up at her, feigning awe.

  “It’s like you truly know me.”

  “You know, I feel like I already do. Is that weird?” She shied away, looking uncomfortable that she’d just told me that. There was an innocent charm to Tabby that couldn’t be denied. A childlike quality that was endearing, and coming from me, that said a lot. I didn’t usually find anything endearing, especially not people. “Is your dad really in jail?” she asked before her eyes went wide and she slapped her hand over her mouth. “Sorry! I shouldn’t have asked that. I don’t have much of a filter. It’s just that … once I’m comfortable around someone, ideas just pop into my head, and then, whoa … there they go out of my mouth. It gets me in trouble sometimes.”

  “Don’t I know what that’s like. I’d trade mine for yours any day of the week.” We walked in silence for a beat before I decided there was no point in evading her question. She was going to find out sooner or later. It was probably for the best that it came from me. “Yes, my dad is in prison. His name is Bruce Danners. Google will happily answer all your other questions. It’s not my favorite topic of discussion.”

  “I’m sorry,” she said. Whether she was sorry for his situation or for asking the question, I didn’t know.

  “Not your fault.”

  Tabby pushed the heavy wooden door open, and I followed her into the changing room. It was already filled with the other girls in our gym class. I always thought too many girls in one place was a special kind of hell. The inherent pack mentality in them was undeniable. The second they smelled blood, these seemingly lovely high school seniors would turn feral, jumping on their prey and tearing it to shreds, all without even breaking a sweat—or a nail.

  With a sigh, I opened a locker at the end of the center row and threw my bag in. Tabby took the one next to me and started to get changed. Her pale, freckled skin was washed out by the white T-shirt she slipped on, and the black gym shorts she stepped into did little to flatter her lanky legs. She was gawky at best. Her saving grace was her huge boobs. It seemed unfair for someone so skinny to have a rack like that.

  I looked down at my modest chest—the girls just chilling in my bra—and frowned.

  “They look great,” she said, glancing down at them. “And they’re clearly not As. Bs, right?”

  “Are you like a bra-size savant or something?”

  She shrugged.

  “We all have gifts.”

  “It’s uncanny.…”

  I pulled my white T on and unbuttoned my jeans while Tabby leaned against her locker waiting for me. Until then, she’d proved a welcome distraction from the others in the room, but I suddenly became all too aware of them, as was their intention. I looked over to find a group of them huddled together just beyond Tabby.

  “You know, there’s a much easier way to get a good look at Ky’s tits,” one girl said before breaking out into mocking laughter.

  “Looks like yours finally came in,” I replied without skipping a beat. I did little to hide the bitchiness in my voice. Why bother? She wasn
’t exactly hiding hers.

  Meet fire with fire, Dad always said.

  “I only suggested it since you two seemed to be having such a great time checking each other out.”

  “She has nice boobs,” Tabby said with a shrug, as if that were going to settle the matter—or be helpful in any way. The new girl was right about her lack of filter. We were going to have to work on that.

  “Yeah, well, try that with me, new kid, and I’ll slam your face in a locker.”

  Tabby’s expression went slack for a moment. I don’t think she was expecting such a violent response. It was clear she wasn’t from Jasperville. Adults seemed to think it was always the boys who resolved matters with their fists, but in this school, you were far more likely to find two girls going at it in the hallways or the bathrooms. On any given day, you could find tufts of ripped-out hair blowing down the hall like tumbleweeds. It was lowbrow at best, Neanderthalish at worst, but any way you sliced it, it was reality. Plain and simple.

  “Girls!” a gruff, disembodied voice shouted at us. Seconds later, Ms. Davies, in all her clichéd female-gym-teacher glory, rounded the corner and pounded her fist on the lockers. “Let’s go! Don’t make me start handing out extra laps to run this early in the school year, even though some of you look like you could use them.”

  Without replying, we all filed out into the gym. The mean girl walked past Tabby and me, glaring the whole way. I just smiled and waved. Tabby looked rattled. The two of us were the last to leave, followed by Ms. Davies, who pulled me gently aside before entering the gym.

  “Kylene,” she started, her voice quiet, “I know what happened with your father. I just wanted to tell you that I knew him. I’d worked with him on two different occasions—projects for the community—and I just don’t believe he is capable of doing what they accused him of.”

  I forced a tight smile in return while I choked back my rising emotions.

  “Thanks, Ms. Davies.”

  “And if anyone is giving you crap about him, you come to me. Understand? I know how things are in this school. But not in my class.”

  My smile softened into a genuine one.

  “I appreciate that. Really.”

  “Good. Now get your ass in there. You’re doing a lap for being the last one to class.”

  She shot me a mischievous look before pushing the gym door open and walking in, blowing her whistle to announce her entrance.

  Note to self: Ms. Davies is all right.

  FOUR

  By the time lunch period rolled around, I realized that there would be no shaking Tabby, even if I’d wanted to. Thankfully that wasn’t the case. She was a breath of fresh air in a stale place—a very necessary distraction.

  We made our way down to the cafeteria. The whole way there, she asked a million questions about me, the school, the town, and the United States in general. I was thankful to get a small reprieve when we entered the à la carte section of the food line. I grabbed a bag of chips and an apple, then made my way over to the register to pay. Tabby wasn’t far behind.

  Once we’d paid, we made our way outside to the terrace. Upperclassmen were allowed to eat out there, weather permitting. Having never had the privilege to use it before, I was excited that for the first time at a school I could bask in the sun while eating my lunch.

  I was even more excited when I saw Garrett leave his table to come join us where we sat.

  “You survived the morning, I see,” he said, straddling the end of my bench seat.

  “I did. So did everyone around me, which is even more surprising.”

  He stole one of my chips.

  “Very true. I can see that your time away from here didn’t improve your sunny disposition.”

  “I mean … it did, but there’s just something about this place that brings out my finer qualities.”

  “Mine too,” Tabby chimed in.

  Garrett looked over at her, then back to me. His eyebrow quirked with curiosity.

  “Garrett, this is Tabby, Jasperville’s latest import, fresh from north of the border. Tabby, this is Garrett, the sheriff’s kid.”

  His expression soured.

  “That’s it? The sheriff’s kid? That’s all I get?”

  I shrugged before shoving a handful of chips in my mouth and chewing them dramatically. “You’re losing your edge, Ky.” Garrett then turned his attention to Tabby, who smiled at him like a giddy schoolgirl. “Nice to meet you, Tabby.”

  “You too, Sheriff’s Kid.”

  She shot me glance that screamed Did you see what I did there?

  “Turning another innocent mind to the dark side, I see,” Garrett drawled, grabbing another chip from my bag.

  “Don’t you have a lunch to eat? Wanna save some calories for me? I don’t want to fall asleep in English lit this afternoon.”

  He laughed.

  “Good luck with that. We’re reading James Fenimore Cooper. If that isn’t coma-inducing, I don’t know what is.…”

  “You don’t like his writing?” Tabby asked, looking wounded. “I loved The Last of the Mohicans. It was so powerful. So haunting.”

  I stared at her blankly, waiting for her to break out into laughter, but it never came. Instead, her wide blue eyes just darted back and forth between Garrett and me, hoping one of us would see the wisdom in her words. When we didn’t, her shoulders slumped forward in a huff. “Nobody appreciates the classics anymore.”

  “I have a ’fifty-eight Corvette I’m fixing up,” Garrett said. “Does that count?”

  Judging by her expression, it didn’t.

  “So Garrett,” I said, changing the subject. “I think we really need to talk about all this black. What’s going on here? Is this a phase or the new you?”

  “Well, it’s not really either. I just didn’t have anything else clean, but the days of preppy Garrett are long gone. You don’t know anything about that because I haven’t seen or talked to you in over two years.”

  Though he tried to make that statement playful, there was a clear undercurrent of hurt that couldn’t be denied. I lowered my chip-wielding hand from my mouth and frowned.

  “I sent you text messages,” I said softly, averting my eyes.

  “At first. Then they stopped.”

  “Garrett—”

  “Listen, Ky. I know that things were beyond rough for you when you left, but, c’mon … this is me we’re talking about.”

  “Why did you leave?” Tabby asked.

  “I think that’s a story for another time, North of the Border,” Garrett replied.

  “I know I hurt you, Garrett. I need you to understand that that wasn’t my intention. I can’t tell you how good it felt to be somewhere where nobody knew me. Where they had no idea what happened.”

  “I get it, Ky. I do. I just wished you hadn’t shut me out; that’s all I’m saying.”

  I held up my chip to him, grinning.

  “Nothing says I’m sorry like salt-and-vinegar chips,” I said. He pulled it from my fingers, then took it down with one big chomp. “Good. Now that that’s settled, can we get back to this look you have going on? It’s very Kylo Ren. I like it and all, I’m just trying to figure it out. It doesn’t scream quarterback.”

  “It doesn’t need to.”

  “Has your cool status reached a level that societal cues no longer apply to you?”

  “Nope. I quit the team.”

  I stared at him for a moment, my mouth nearly hanging agape.

  “You what?”

  “I quit.”

  “When? Why? You love football, Garrett. You used to make me play with you all the time. Hell, I can still throw a perfect spiral because of you.”

  “How can you not know why I quit, Kylene? Or when? Seriously … did you think I could spend time with the people that did that to you? After how you suffered?”

  I swallowed hard. I’d never really thought about it that way. When the topless pictures of me surfaced, I was so caught up in being mortified that I never considere
d how it affected my friend. They were taken at a football party—with one of the players’ phones. Garrett had integrity, like my father; I should have known he wouldn’t have been able to stomach being around the people who did that to me.

  “I never considered it.”

  “Yeah, well, you know me. You should have.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  His grip on the water bottle in his hands tightened until it practically begged him to let go. Garrett wasn’t your run-of-the-mill outsider—the nerdy, wimpy guy that you always see on TV. In fact, he couldn’t have been more the opposite. He was tall and built and really good-looking. More importantly, he was one of the most popular kids in school. At least he had been. I guess he relinquished that position when he abandoned football and took up his new look.

  It made me wonder just how isolated from everyone at JHS he’d become.

  “And for your information, I don’t look like Kylo Ren. I look like a tortured artist. A misunderstood rocker.”

  “Who doesn’t play an instrument, unless you took one up in all your post-football downtime,” I countered.

  “Chicks love rockers.”

  “Yep. That is true. How’s that working out for you?”

  He smiled.

  “Better than you’d think.”

  “Well, I really like the black,” Tabby added cheerfully. “You have the complexion for it.”

  “He’s the dark cloud to your sunshine!” I exclaimed, a little too proud of myself for coming up with that one. Neither of my companions looked overly amused. I snatched Garrett’s water bottle and tapped on the lid before blowing on it a few times. “Check, check … Is this thing on?”

  “Very funny, Ky. Hilarious in fact,” Garrett said.

  “I do what I can,” I said, bowing my head.