by Barbara Dee
“I totally promise,” I said.
Which—PING!—was another lie right there.
♥ ♥ ♥
The next morning in homeroom, Marley was wearing an Art Institute of Chicago hoodie with pockets in the front. She walked over to Makayla’s desk and pulled a folded-up sheet of paper out of one of the pockets.
“Here,” she said.
Makayla unfolded the paper, squinting at the strange-looking print. “What is this?” she demanded.
“A love poem. It’s in Sanskrit. I printed it off the Internet. And see, I signed my name at the bottom.”
I started laughing. “That’s brilliant, Marley.”
“I dunno,” Makayla said.
“What don’t you know?” I challenged her. “Nobody said it had to be in English!”
“Well, how can we tell it’s a love poem?” Makayla argued. “It could be an Indian shopping list, for all we know.”
Marley scowled at Makayla. “I’ll give you the URL, okay? You can look it up, if you really want. There’s an English translation.”
“Nah, I believe you,” Makayla said. She flicked her hand like she was waving away a housefly. “Go ahead. Just give it to Graydon.”
“Right now?”
“Yeah, why not?”
I stood watching with Makayla as Marley walked over to Graydon, who was showing Jake and Ben some card he’d bought for this game they were obsessed with called Phantom.
“Here,” Marley said, stuffing the poem into Graydon’s hands.
Graydon looked annoyed. “What are you doing?”
“It’s a poem. For you.”
“Am I supposed to read it?”
“No. It’s in Sanskrit.”
“Then why are you giving it to me?”
“Marley likes you,” Jake sang in Graydon’s face.
“Not at all,” Marley answered calmly. “You’re a perfectly nice person, Graydon, and I think you’re incredibly smart. And yes, this is a love poem, but I definitely do not have a crush on you.”
Graydon blushed dark red. “Then don’t bother me,” he grumbled. He crumpled up the poem and tossed it in the garbage.
Marley turned and walked back to us. “Done,” she announced.
♥ ♥ ♥
All morning, I felt terrible for Graydon. It wasn’t Marley’s fault that the whole thing was so awkward; really, she didn’t have much of a choice about how it went. But I could tell Graydon had been confused, and even worse, embarrassed in front of his friends, which seemed unfair. Truth or Dare was our game, and I thought it was wrong to hurt people who weren’t even playing, who didn’t understand the rules. Plus, Graydon thought Marley was making fun of him, and that was also unfair to Marley.
So before science started I went over to Graydon.
“Can we talk in private?” I asked. “In the hall?”
His eyes narrowed. “Why, Lia? You want to borrow my homework?”
“No,” I said. “I mean, if you want to share it with me, that would be extremely nice, but it’s not why I want to talk to you.”
He shrugged. I followed him out the door.
“So what’s up?” he asked, staring at my knees.
“Um, about that poem Marley gave you,” I said. “It wasn’t her idea; she didn’t mean to make fun of you. That wasn’t the point.”
“There was a point?”
“Well, in a way. It was a sort of prank.”
His forehead crumpled. He stuffed his hands in his pockets.
“Not by her,” I added. “By other people. Who were playing a game.”
“Sounds like fun.”
“Yeah,” I said, agreeing with his sarcasm. “It really wasn’t.”
He squinted at me. “And were you playing this not-fun game?”
“Me?”
He nodded.
This was not going well. I could feel my face on fire. “Yes, but—”
“Thanks for the explanation, Lia.” He pushed the door open and left me standing in the hall.
Bub
AT LUNCH, ABI WAS FURIOUS.
“Mak, who said you and Lia could approve the poem all by yourselves?” she demanded.
Makayla sighed sarcastically. “Sorry we didn’t ask for your permission, Abi.”
“It’s not about permission! This is a game we’re playing together. All of us. That includes Jules too.”
“I know who’s playing,” Makayla snapped. “But you were the one who said Marley had to complete the dare by lunchtime today, right? So when exactly was she supposed to give the poem to Graydon? They’re not even in any of the same classes. So it had to be in homeroom, right?”
It always amazed me how Makayla stood up to Abi. Nobody else did, and usually Makayla didn’t; but when she did, Abi would get all quaky. Her lips would tremble, her face would flush, and she’d look like she was fighting back tears.
“I can’t believe you’re saying that,” she told Makayla. “Don’t you care about our feelings?”
Makayla’s shoulders rose. Her voice got louder. “Who said anything about not caring? Or about feelings? Why are you even bringing that up?”
“I don’t know, Mak. The way you said all that just now—”
“Look, Abi, just because I don’t agree with you and think of something on my own doesn’t mean I don’t care about your feelings. Everything isn’t always about you and your feelings!” Makayla shook her head; her thick ponytail whipped back and forth. “Anyhow, I need to check something about swim practice today. See you guys later.” She got up and walked over to the swim team table to sit with her teammates, Sarita and Morgan.
“Well,” Jules commented.
I stirred my strawberry yogurt like it needed total concentration. After I ate a couple of spoonfuls, I looked up. “Can I say something? I think if we’re going to keep playing Truth or Dare, we should make some definite rules. Like, do we need everybody to witness a dare?”
“I vote yes,” Jules said. Abi, whose face still looked rumpled and red, barely nodded.
“Although that’s not fair to Marley,” I said. “It’s not her fault that she did the dare in front of just Mak and me.”
“Fine,” Abi said. She took a shaky breath. “We’ll say that Marley’s dare counted. But from now on everybody in the game has to witness every dare. Although maybe Mak doesn’t even want to play.”
“What makes you say that?” Marley asked.
“I mean, look at her,” Abi grumbled. “She seems perfectly happy with her other friends.”
We all looked at Mak, who was laughing loudly with Sarita.
“Can we agree on one other thing?” I said quickly, before the conversation turned into Let’s All Talk Behind Makayla’s Back. “Can we have a rule that everything we say in the game—all the truths—are private? And we don’t tell anybody else?”
Marley bit the crust off her grilled cheese sandwich. “Who would we tell?”
“I don’t know,” I said, pretending to think. “Like maybe someone’s parent?”
“Are you saying somebody told somebody?” Abi’s eyes flashed at me. By then she was looking like normal Abi, leader Abi.
I swallowed some more yogurt. “I just think we need a rule. From now on.”
“Okay with me,” Marley said.
“Whatever,” Abi said, crumpling her napkin. “You know what, Lia? I don’t even want to talk about this game anymore. I don’t care if we never even play it again.”
♥ ♥ ♥
The funny thing was, by dismissal Abi and Mak were best friends again. Maybe they’d talked it over during sixth-period art, or during Spanish, which they had together at the end of the day. All I knew for sure was that they’d come up with a joke they both found hilarious—calling people “bub.”
Like when Mak and Abi saw Graydon get on the bus, they called out, “Bye, bub! See you tomorrow, bub!” and practically fell over, laughing. And when Mr. Halloran walked past us to get his car, Abi shouted, “Have a nice afternoon!”
When he waved back, she and Mak muttered, “Bub,” and went into hysterics.
“What’s so funny about the word ‘bub’?” Marley asked me.
I shrugged. “No clue. But it’s better than ‘dahling.’ And at least they’re not fighting.”
The five of us walked a few short blocks to the Maplebrook Diner, the way we sometimes did after school. We had about an hour, because Marley had a tutor coming to her house, Jules had to go to the dentist, and Mak had a swim practice at the YMCA pool. But there was enough time for us to order our usual—milk shakes for everybody except Abi, who always had two scoops of cookie dough ice cream with butterscotch syrup, whipped cream, and gummy teddy bears on top.
I couldn’t help wondering if we’d play Truth or Dare. Not that I wanted to; after the Graydon incident, the whole game had kind of soured for me, really. But—here’s the weird thing—a teeny part of me felt disappointed not to play. I think I missed telling my made-up story, watching my friends hang on every detail. I missed the surprise in their faces: “Lia? All that happened to nice little you?”
The waitress brought us our orders. Her name was Maggie, and she hated us, maybe because we always made too much noise and one time forgot to leave a tip. We waited for her to walk away from our table, and then Abi stuck out her tongue behind Maggie’s back.
“Great look, bub,” Mak told Abi, laughing. “I think you should do a selfie like that and send it to Nick.”
“Shut up, bub,” Abi said. “You send him a selfie.”
Marley caught my eye. Bub, she mouthed.
“No, I’m serious,” Mak insisted. She took a giant sip of her mint chocolate chip shake. “Hey, bub, I have a question: If Nick asked you out, would you go?”
Abi snorted. “Are you insane, Mak? He’s, like, fifteen. My mom would have a heart attack.”
“So the answer is no?”
“It’s a stupid question,” Marley declared. “Because there’s no way a fifteen-year-old boy would ask out a twelve-year-old girl. If he did, he’d be a creepy loser, so why would you want to go out with him, anyway?”
Everyone stared at Marley.
“Well, Lia went out with Tanner this summer,” Mak argued. She cocked her head at me. “And didn’t you say he was in high school?”
“Well, going into high school,” I said. “As a freshman. But we didn’t go out.”
“You didn’t?” Jules asked. “It sounded like you did.”
“No, we just walked on the beach together. A few times.”
“And kissed,” Jules reminded me.
“Yeah, well.” I shrugged. “Then I found out he had this other girlfriend. Named Logan. So I dumped him.”
“He was seeing you behind Logan’s back?” Jules looked outraged.
“Sort of. Although truthfully, she was pretty nasty, so . . .”
“Even if she was,” Jules said. “Cheating is just wrong. Tanner totally deserved to be dumped.”
I slurped some chocolate milk shake. “I know, right?”
“Was he really upset?” Mak asked me. “When you dumped him?”
“Well, he was confused. I didn’t tell him I knew about Logan.”
“Why not?” Jules asked. “If it was me, I would’ve made sure he knew exactly why. Anyway, the truth is always bound to come out, right?”
She said it like it was a thing she’d read somewhere.
I was suddenly aware of Abi’s eyes glaring at me. Maybe she didn’t like it that we were talking about my fake boyfriend instead of hers.
I sipped my chocolate shake and rolled the corner of my napkin.
“Speaking of truth,” Abi said slowly. “Can we talk about something, Lia?”
“Sure,” I said.
“I don’t know how to say this,” Abi said, glancing at Jules and Mak. “But we’re all best friends, right? So we’re supposed to trust each other and be honest with each other. Not just when we’re playing a game.”
My heart thudded. Was she about to expose all my lies? “Yeah, of course,” I said quickly.
“And lately I’ve been thinking about this a lot, Lia: You know, you’ve never talked to us about when your mom died. I don’t mean about the accident—I mean, how it felt. To you.”
Something passed over me then, like a shiver. I couldn’t speak; I could feel my heart banging against my chest.
“What?” Marley snapped. “Are you joking, Abi?”
“No, Marley. I’m really not.”
“But that’s an awful thing to make Lia talk about!”
“Why?” Abi asked. “We’re her best friends, right? If she can’t talk about it with us, who can she talk to?”
“Yeah, I know, but—”
Abi ignored Marley. “We’re only asking because we care about you, Lia. And you never even mention it, you know?”
Nobody spoke. They were all looking at me, including Marley, who was shaking her head like, Don’t do it.
I could have refused. Really, I wanted to refuse. Even now, the Accident hurt my stomach to talk about, and I didn’t trust myself not to cry.
But I knew Abi was testing me. If I refused to answer, I would fail. In front of everyone. All of my friends.
Besides, how could you pick some truths to share and keep others to yourself? What were the rules for that? Maybe there weren’t any.
“It’s okay,” I said to Marley. “I don’t mind.”
She shrugged.
So then I told my friends about the minutes and days after the Accident, how I kept wondering about the stupid guy’s stupid phone conversation and how he and his wife showed up at our house with the waxy cookies.
Also how Dad pitied him, but Nate and I thought he was a monster.
How after he left, I threw away my phone.
How we felt grateful and shocked and embarrassed by all the food people kept bringing us.
But mostly how sad we felt about Mom. And still did.
Jules put her arm around my shoulder. “Poor Lia,” she said. Her eyelashes were wet.
“Can I tell you guys another truth?” I said. “I hate the ‘Poor Lia’ stuff. I’m really okay.”
“We know you are,” Mak said. “But thanks for telling us all that.”
She got up from the table to hug me, and so did Abi. Once again I felt like limp lettuce inside a sandwich. But also—and this surprised me—glad I finally told those things to my friends.
Even though Marley didn’t say a word to me and left the diner without finishing her milk shake.
Fascinating New Developments
WHEN I CAME HOME FROM the diner, Nate was sitting in the kitchen eating Val’s brownies drowned in hot fudge.
“Want some?” he asked.
I shook my head.
He made a noise through his nose. “Don’t tell me you’re on a diet.”
“Of course not.”
“Good. It’s so stupid when skinny girls diet. So how are your friends?”
“My friends? Why are you even asking?”
“How’s Jules?” He grinned. His teeth were smeared with chocolate.
I narrowed my eyes at my brother. “She’s fine. And even if she wasn’t, it’s none of your business, Fungus Face.”
“Whatever. Oh yeah, speaking of fungus. Guess who’s coming this weekend. Aunt Shelby.”
I froze. “She is? How do you know?”
“She called Dad, and he called me. She would have called you if you had a phone.”
When I didn’t respond, Nate said, “So what happened between you two, anyway? Did you, like, fight with her this summer?”
“Why? What makes you ask that?”
“I dunno. A weird vibe you’ve been giving off since you got back from Maine.”
“I’m not giving off any weird vibes.”
“If you say so, Fungus Breath.” He licked some fudge off his fingers. “But if you did fight with her, I wouldn’t blame you. To be honest, I couldn’t believe you lasted there as long as you did.”
Neither could I
, the more I thought about it. I went upstairs and threw my backpack on my bed. Why was Aunt Shelby showing up now? Abi said she’d ask her mom if we could have a sleepover Saturday night, but if Aunt Shelby was here for the weekend, Dad would probably say I couldn’t go. Plus, there was the whole awkwardness of seeing my aunt again. Dad had instructed me to write her a thank-you note for the summer, and I knew it was the polite thing to do, but every time I sat down to write it, my brain clogged like a hairy sink. Dear Aunt Shelby, I really appreciated how you spied on me. Thanks for humiliating me by inviting Tanner. I’m so grateful for the bras, which I’ve buried somewhere in my closet.
The truth was, I still hadn’t forgiven Aunt Shelby. I didn’t want her to visit. I had nothing to say to her.
Val was right: My aunt was so different from my mom.
And that’s who I missed. Who I really wanted to see.
I reached under my bed for a bin. I didn’t even care which one—seashells, sea glass, marbles, dice, charms, erasers, buttons, pebbles. Any of my collections would soothe me for a few minutes as I sifted through the pieces, held them up to the light, maybe even arranged them in a different way as I put them back in the bin.
This time I picked buttons. And as I sorted them, I thought, Wouldn’t it be wonderful if all the best memories—of Mom, for example—were a collection? And you could reach under your bed and hold them in your hands whenever you wanted? Whenever you needed them?
And when you held them up to the light, they wouldn’t disappear?
♥ ♥ ♥
That night I couldn’t sleep. My brain just wouldn’t turn off: I worried about Aunt Shelby showing up and doing something that made me even madder. Or meeting my friends and saying something disastrous (Lia told you she kissed Tanner? Not according to my spy!) I worried about my friends hanging out without me. I also worried about Marley—why had she left the diner so weirdly yesterday? Not even saying anything after I’d talked about the Accident—was she mad at me for some reason? I couldn’t understand what I’d done to her. And if everyone was hanging out at Abi’s this weekend, would Marley go there without me? That didn’t seem like the best idea, but I couldn’t exactly advise her not to go on her own.
The next morning, by the time I got to homeroom, Marley was already there. She was wearing a blue Field Museum Chicago sweatshirt that was so big it must have been meant for a unisex giant, and she was drawing in her sketchpad. She didn’t notice me—or anyway, that’s what she pretended.