Believe Me, I'm Lying

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Believe Me, I'm Lying Page 16

by Jordan Lynde


  ‘Mm . . .’

  ‘And not only that, but it’s like you’ll never be able to write again. Writer’s block is very over-dramatic. It’s like that relative no one really likes who just randomly shows up at your house and you have to deal with them . . . Harley, are you even listening to me?’

  ‘Mm . . .’

  Will yanked the magazine I was reading out of my hand and frowned at me. ‘What was I saying then?’

  ‘You were complaining about writing . . . again,’ I responded, trying to grab my magazine.

  Will shook his head. ‘Everyone needs to complain sometime.’

  ‘If you don’t like writing, then stop—’

  Will gasped, looking as if I’d just slapped him in the face. ‘I can’t just not write! I-I’d explode! Or something.’

  I raised an eyebrow at him. ‘You know how you solve this problem?’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Don’t get writer’s block.’

  Will smacked me over the head with the magazine. ‘Impossible.’

  ‘Then don’t complain,’ I snapped.

  Will pursed his lips at me. ‘When are you going to work?’

  ‘Whenever Oliver gets—’

  The doorbell rang, cutting my sentence off. Will raised an eyebrow, and I quickly hopped off the couch.

  ‘Is he your chauffeur?’

  I ignored Will, hurrying towards Elliot’s room. ‘Elliot! Come here!’

  My brother poked his head out of his bedroom door. ‘Pig?’

  ‘Eli, go answer the door,’ I ordered, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘Do you remember Oliver?’

  Elliot gave me a blank look.

  ‘Olive?’ I tried.

  He nodded in recognition. ‘Olive!’

  I nodded my head. ‘He’s at the door. Open it for him.’

  Elliot nodded back, and hurried toward the front door. I couldn’t help but grin in excitement as Elliot fumbled with the door handle for a moment, and then pulled it open. Oliver was standing in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets, and his expression blank. Then it turned confused as he realized no one was at the door, even though it had just opened. He lowered his gaze, and when his eyes landed on Elliot, they widened.

  Just as Oliver opened his mouth to speak, Elliot spoke. ‘Pig doesn’t like Olive! Go home!’

  With that, Elliot slammed the door in Oliver’s face. My jaw dropped in shock as he proudly started striding back to me and Will started guffawing from the couch as I hurried to the door in horror. Elliot watched me curiously as I brushed by him and swung the door open. Oliver stared at me, looking shocked.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I apologized quickly. ‘Ignore Eli – I don’t know what he was—’

  ‘Go away, Olive!’ Elliot cried, pushing past my legs. ‘Pig—’

  I put my hand on Elliot’s head, silencing him. ‘El, it’s OK,’ I said, offering him a small smile.

  Elliot looked at me, confused. ‘But, Pig . . .’ He then turned to Oliver, a frown on his face.

  Oliver stared at Elliot for a few moments, mimicking his expression. Then Oliver looked away, shoving his hand into his pocket. ‘You ready?’

  I blinked at him, a little disappointed in his response. Was I wrong? Did he actually not like children? I could feel myself pouting. ‘Yeah, let me just grab a jacket . . .’

  Frowning, I hurried to the living room where my pea coat was. A part of me wasn’t surprised by Oliver’s reaction – I’d been in a good mood earlier, and I was half teasing him. The other part was upset, because I thought maybe, somehow, if he liked children, we could become closer.

  My pea coat wasn’t on the couch were I left it. Sighing lightly, I glanced at my coat rack. It wasn’t there either.

  ‘Here.’

  I turned just in time to catch the coat Will had thrown at me. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘So, I’m curious,’ Will started, taking a few steps closer to me. He lowered his voice. ‘Is Oliver your boyfriend?’

  My eyes widened slightly in surprise, and I quickly shook my head. ‘No, he’s just . . . an acquaintance.’

  Will nodded. ‘Good.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I just get a bad feeling about that guy. I don’t like him.’

  ‘You don’t know him,’ I snapped, suddenly feeling defensive. Then I realized what I’d said and felt bad. ‘I’m sorry.’

  He waved me off. ‘It’s fine, he’s your friend. I get it. Just be careful.’

  ‘Thanks, I will. Teach something to Elliot tonight, would you?’ I said over my shoulder as I hurried into the living room.

  ‘Coming from the person who hasn’t done her schoolwork in a week?’ Will called after me tauntingly.

  I paused, whirling around to give him a sheepish grin. ‘We should probably catch up . . .’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ Will assured me. ‘Now go.’

  With a nod to Will, I turned back around, heading back to the door again. Oliver was squatting at Elliot’s height, talking to him, a small smile on his mouth. When I grew closer Oliver’s eyes snapped onto me and he quickly stood up, looking away. A grin spread onto my face as I stopped just behind Elliot.

  ‘Getting along?’ I asked.

  ‘Look!’ Elliot cried, holding up a bundle of lollipops. ‘Olive gave them to me!’

  I raised an eyebrow, glancing at Oliver, who was glaring at the wall. ‘Oh, did he?’

  Elliot nodded vigorously. ‘Yes!’

  So maybe my original thought wasn’t that far-fetched after all. Perhaps Oliver really did like little kids . . .

  ‘Let’s go,’ Oliver snapped, sounding irritated.

  It took all I had to keep all my teasing comments to myself. ‘All right.’

  ‘Wait!’ Elliot cried, pushing past me, and grabbing onto Oliver’s pant leg. ‘Olive, will you come play Wii with me soon?’

  Oliver’s hard expression immediately dropped as he looked down at Elliot. For a split second he looked forlorn, but that expression was quickly replaced by a friendly smile. ‘Maybe one day.’

  ‘Pig? Can Olive come play this weekend?’

  Oliver glanced at me as I looked at Elliot in surprise. ‘This weekend?’

  Elliot nodded. ‘It’s OK, right? And Olive wants to too, right?’

  Oliver and I exchanged a look. I grinned at him, and for a second he started grinning back, but then he quickly shifted to a frown and I immediately dropped my grin, a little dejected by his attitude.

  ‘I don’t know, Elliot,’ I murmured. ‘If Oliver wants to, he’s welcome to . . .’

  Elliot turned to Oliver again, his eyes like saucers. ‘Do you want to?’

  ‘Er . . .’ Oliver hesitated, his gaze flickering to Elliot again. ‘That sounds fun,’ Oliver finally caved.

  Elliot squealed happily. ‘Yay! Come sooner! Come with Pig after school!’

  ‘Eli, that’s a little . . .’ My brother gave me his puppy-dog look, and I felt myself giving in. ‘OK. Maybe Friday.’

  ‘We’ve got to go,’ Oliver suddenly said. ‘C’mon.’

  ‘See you Friday!’ Elliot chirped as I pulled on my pea coat.

  ‘Bye, Eli,’ I responded, ushering him back into my apartment. ‘Bye, Will!’ I called louder.

  ‘See you later!’

  Oliver and I walked silently down the hall to the parking lot. I climbed in the passenger’s seat, and Oliver appeared at the driver’s a few seconds later. Within seconds we were speeding down the road. I decided to speak.

  ‘You, um, don’t have to come over Friday. Elliot might forget . . .’

  Oliver scowled at me, and I blinked in surprise from his sudden change of attitude. Was he bi-polar or something? ‘Where are the teasing comments?’ he snapped.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘You know, about how stupid it is that I can’t say no to children. That I actually like children. You were doing it earlier.’

  I stared at him in surprise. ‘What? No, Oliver, I wasn’t—’

  ‘Don’t deny it.’
>
  ‘I wasn’t making fun of you!’ I protested. ‘Oliver, I think it’s cute that you like children . . .’ I trailed off, realizing what I had admitted. My face immediately burned and I looked out the window. ‘Um, you know . . . you’re like, a delinquent and all, and you don’t really expect delinquents to like children. Wait, no, that sounds bad . . . It’s just that you’re a man and . . .’ My face continued to heat while I babbled.

  Suddenly Oliver started chuckling. My head whipped toward him, surprised once again. A smirk was playing at his lips and he sent me a quick glance. ‘You think I’m cute?’

  I pursed my lips at him. ‘No, I said it’s cute you like children.’

  ‘Isn’t that the same thing?’

  ‘No, it is not,’ I stated stubbornly. ‘It’s really unexpected.’

  Oliver stayed quiet for a moment. ‘I have a little sister about Elliot’s age,’ he finally told me, solemn. ‘Lily.’

  ‘You do?’

  He nodded, keeping his eyes on the road. ‘She’s actually a lot like Elliot. I’ve heard she plays the Wii all the time and she is also home-schooled.’

  ‘You’ve heard . . .?’ I asked cautiously. This was the first time Oliver was talking about his family willingly – and without being rude or mean. I didn’t want to mess it up by asking the wrong questions.

  Oliver didn’t seem to mind my question. ‘I never really get to see her. She lives with a foster-family.’

  A foster-family? Why would Oliver’s younger sister live with a foster-family if Oliver didn’t? Curiosity burned within me, but I withheld my questions. ‘Oh,’ I finally responded, biting my tongue.

  ‘If it’s OK with you, I’d like to come over to play the Wii with Elliot.’

  I glanced at Oliver. He was staring straight ahead, his hands tight on the steering wheel, his face impassive. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was embarrassed to ask this. However, I once again forced myself to keep my comments to myself. ‘Of course you can!’

  Oliver glanced at me. ‘It won’t be weird?’

  ‘Why would it be weird?’

  ‘You’re still my teacher,’ Oliver pointed out. ‘Usually teachers don’t invite their students to their houses . . .’

  I frowned slightly. He had a point. But he also knew my real age, so it wasn’t like I had to put up a front around him. Oliver knew my secret, which put him in a different perspective completely . . .

  ‘It’s fine,’ I told him. ‘No one will know.’

  Oliver shrugged. ‘Whatever.’

  ‘You don’t have to if you don’t want to,’ I said, a little thrown off by his sudden casual attitude.

  He shook his head. ‘No, I want to.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Don’t you want to know?’

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. How could Oliver expect me to know what he was talking about every time he opened his mouth? ‘Know what?’

  Oliver spared me a deadpan look. ‘Why Lily lives with a foster-family and I don’t.’

  ‘Oh,’ I responded, sucking in a quick breath. ‘Well, I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want to know, but I also don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me. It’s your business, not mine.’

  A smirk tugged at Oliver’s lips. ‘It sure seemed your business when you were scolding me for being rude to my family.’

  ‘That’s because that was unnecessary,’ I pointed out.

  Oliver scowled at me. ‘You don’t understand.’

  ‘Then help me to.’

  ‘I thought you said you weren’t going to force me to tell you since it wasn’t your business?’

  ‘But you – you just – you said . . .’ I trailed off, stuttering.

  Oliver raised an eyebrow. ‘Calm down.’

  ‘I am calm,’ I snapped.

  ‘Really?’

  I crossed my arms and turned to look out the window again. ‘Never mind. I’m not interested in your past.’

  What a total lie.

  ‘Lily is my half-sister,’ Oliver told me, his voice so quiet I had to strain my ears to hear him. ‘Same mom. But my mom and dad got divorced a year before Lily was born.’

  I quickly did the math in my head. ‘Three months?’ It only took three months for his mom to move on from their divorce?

  Oliver shrugged. ‘More or less.’

  ‘And is Lily’s father your step-dad?’

  Oliver snorted. ‘No, and I don’t even know who Lily’s dad is – he was just some random guy my desperate mom hooked up with because she was depressed. Then Lily appeared, and the guy was gone.’

  So that explained why Lily wasn’t with her father. Though not why she was in a foster-family. What had happened to Oliver’s mom? I stayed quiet, playing with my thumbs. Oliver didn’t continue talking, so an awkward silence settled in the car. A large bump in the road lifted me a few centimeters off my seat, and I fell back with an ‘Oof!’

  Oliver rolled his eyes. Either at my actions or the silence – I didn’t know. ‘You can ask me questions.’

  ‘I don’t want to pry,’ I admitted.

  ‘I know you want to.’

  I pursed my lips at him. ‘Why are you suddenly so willing to let me know about your family?’

  Oliver shrugged. ‘We’re working together now, so I figured you – being as nosy as you are – would keep asking me the same questions if I didn’t answer them. I think it’d be much simpler just to tell you everything.’

  I gave him a dry smile. ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘Besides, I have some questions I want to ask you about your family,’ Oliver continued, shooting me a curious look.

  Instantly I felt cold. Oliver wanted to ask me questions? Did he know something, or was he just curious about my life? That didn’t sound Oliver-ish. Would I be able to answer all his questions? Did I want to? There was nothing wrong with it. It was just . . . it’d be weird.

  I decided to take control of the situation. It was better to be the one asking than to be the one answering . . . at least for right now. ‘You don’t have to answer, but why isn’t Lily with your mom?’

  ‘She’s dead.’ Oliver suddenly slammed on the brakes, making me jerk forward in the seat. The feeling of my stomach moving, and the cold feeing that was spreading through me from Oliver’s response made me shiver. He’d said it so simply, so easily . . . My hands suddenly felt sweaty, and I wiped them continuously against my pant leg.

  Oliver’s mom was dead. A sudden feeling of empathy washed over me. So that was why Oliver snapped at me for not knowing how it felt to lose someone . . . Well, he didn’t know I actually did, but still. It made more sense.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I finally said, saying the line I got sick of hearing after my parents died. ‘That’s a hard thing to go through . . .’

  Oliver shrugged. ‘Yeah, I guess. And it was tough . . . though it was kinda coming for a long while. Depression, you know. An . . . accident with her medication.’ He swallowed. ‘But I didn’t live with her at the time, so I didn’t really see her.’

  My head was reeling. Oliver’s mom had taken too many pills and died . . . no wonder it had been tough for him. ‘You lived with your dad, then?’ I said softly.

  Oliver nodded. ‘Yeah. My step-mom moved in just a little before my mom died.’ His voice hardened. ‘She and my dad had been . . . close for some time.’

  I hesitated a moment before speaking again. ‘How come your dad didn’t, um, adopt Lily?’

  ‘He’s a bas—’

  ‘No swearing,’ I quickly interjected.

  Oliver sent me an amused look. ‘OK . . . my dad didn’t want Lily because she wasn’t his child.’

  ‘But still! She’s your sister!’

  Oliver glared at me. ‘He doesn’t care about that.’

  I leaned away from Oliver, a bit taken aback by his harsh glare. ‘But Anthony is so nice . . . there must be another reason.’

  ‘Doubt it,’ Oliver responded. ‘My step-mom was against it too.’ He chuckled humorl
essly. ‘She wanted me to move out too.’

  ‘What?’ I gasped.

  ‘You know how our school has dorms? She wanted me to stay in them,’ Oliver informed me. ‘She didn’t want to ruin her reputation.’

  ‘She seemed nice too, though,’ I commented quietly.

  ‘No one is ever who they seem.’

  I knit my eyebrows. ‘I see that . . .’

  ‘Lily’s foster-parents are really good people,’ Oliver said, continuing his story again. ‘I do like them a lot, and I actually think it’s better for Lily to live with them than with my dad.’

  ‘Really?’ I mused, glancing at the window. My eyes widened in shock when I realized we were at the bar. ‘When did we get here?’

  ‘About five minutes ago,’ Oliver responded, raising an eyebrow in amusement. ‘Don’t tell me you just realized this.’

  I blushed, looking away from him. ‘Shut up. I’m still in shock that you decided to tell me about your past.’

  ‘I didn’t tell you my whole past,’ Oliver corrected me, a smirk forming on his face again. ‘I left out the fun stuff.’

  ‘Fun stuff?’

  Oliver smirked wider. ‘The reason why I have to go to a delinquent school and all that stuff.’

  I blanked at him. He was still smirking, but anger was etched into his eyes, making my mind blank. All of a sudden, I was dying to know what he had done. Before I could open my mouth to ask, though, he was opening the door to climb out of the car. When he was fully out, he popped his head back in the car.

  ‘Let’s go. Time for work, Harley.’

  My eyes widened in surprise. That was the first time he had used my first name.

  Chapter Sixteen

  ‘Does Oliver have short-term memory loss?’ I asked randomly on Wednesday as Melissa and I were eating lunch in my room.

  Melissa gave me a questioning look. ‘No?’

  I pursed my lips, setting down my container of Chinese food. ‘Huh.’

  ‘Why?’

  I shrugged. ‘No reason.’

  Melissa gave me another curious look, but dropped it. I stabbed my fork into my lunch again, bringing up a boneless rib.

  Oliver had said he wanted to ask questions about my family last night, but he never did. As soon as we’d entered the bar, he’d gone back to being his cool and un-talkative self. Well, after he’d snapped at Anthony for giving me an enthusiastic greeting hug. But Anthony seemed like the type of person who liked giving hugs, so I didn’t see what the big deal was.

 

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