The Truth Beneath the Lies

by Amanda Searcy

  “I’m not mad.” I can’t process it right now. I can’t feel happy or excited while staring at a girl who almost died. A girl who, after all she has been through, is worried I will be upset with her over kissing my boyfriend. Or former boyfriend. He still won’t talk to me.

  I stand up and let go of her hand. “I hope you feel better soon.” I move the curtain back. She’s so fragile and tiny like a baby bird in a nest of white sheets, metal, and plastic.

  “Thank you,” she whispers. Her eyes, now focused, look directly at my face to convey the full meaning of her words.

  I smile my big Clairmont Explorers Dance Team smile, so I won’t start to cry. “You know the tall guy at McDonald’s, the one who works the register?” I don’t want to mention his bad skin or the still-blank McDonald’s application sitting on my desk at home.

  “Jerry,” she whispers.

  “Yeah, Jerry. He totally has a thing for you.”

  She smiles.

  —

  I’m not going to look at the No Limit Foods parking lot. The bus jolts to a halt at a red light. I glance up at the ceiling, down at my hands, and at the woman playing with her phone in the seat across from me.

  We wait through three red lights. Traffic is backed up. The hazards on a stalled car blink, adding to the annoyance of the other drivers with each flash. Even though it feels like a sign, I’m not going to look at the No Limit Foods parking lot.

  The bus inches forward. Once we’re beyond the car, it will be clear sailing all the way to Bluebird Estates. I’ve had two other buses from the hospital to wrestle my mind into not thinking about Jordan. How he said he had feelings for me. How I blew it. I’m not going to look for his Jeep in the parking lot.

  I look.

  The bus breaks free of the backup. The driver hits the gas to try to make up time. I pull the cord. Over and over and over again. The driver slams on the brakes and shoots daggers at me through her giant rearview mirror.

  I stand up and make my way to the front. Jordan isn’t the only person who drives a blue Jeep. It could be a coincidence.

  “Are you getting off?” the driver asks. Her tone is not polite. I hover in front of the open door that blasts me with muggy, exhaust-filled air. I force myself forward, but the bus starts to go before my back foot has cleared the last step. I stumble onto the cement.

  A pair of hands tentatively grabs my shoulders and steadies me on my feet. Elton’s cane hits the ground. His breath is minty on my face.

  “Thanks,” I say. We both peer down at his cane. “Let me get that.” I bend over and lift the piece of black painted wood. It’s heavier than I would have expected. The paint is chipping off in places where it has been nicked.

  I put the cane in his hand. “Thanks again,” I say, and tear across the street toward Jordan.

  The doors whoosh open. If Jordan isn’t here, my heart will explode and I will die at the foot of Albert’s cherry cream soda castle.

  I search aisle after aisle. He isn’t here. I steady myself on the cherry cream turret. This is it. It’s over.

  A crinkle in my ear. The smell of sugar. “Hi.”

  It’s as if he can walk through walls. Even I, who wanted to see him more than anyone, missed his calm, quiet stance behind a mound of clearance chocolate Valentine’s hearts.

  He tosses an M&M into his mouth.

  My knees go weak, my stomach hurts, and my head pounds. I move my lips, but the apology that was queued up behind them doesn’t come out. I’m so happy to see him, so sorry for what I did, so scared of what I feel.

  We stare at each other. My eyes flutter around his face, taking in every feature. His brown eyes, slight stubble appearing on his chin, a scar on his temple that’s brought out by the fluorescent lights.

  He takes a step forward and opens his arms. I propel myself into them. My mouth finds language, and I pour apologies into his ear. He pushes me away and places his finger against my lips. Then he kisses them.

  Albert clears his throat behind us. We break apart, laughing. “I brought you something,” Jordan says. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a rubber alligator key chain. Its jaw flops comically open and it has FLORIDA painted in red block letters on the stomach.

  He rubs the back of his neck. “I know it’s kind of stupid.”

  “It’s great,” I say, and pull him back for another kiss. Albert slams a case of canned corn down.

  —

  The backseat of the Jeep isn’t comfortable. My head rests against Jordan’s chest. Outside in the park, a group of boys whoop and chase one another around with sticks.

  “Has Grace come to visit again?” I ask.

  “No.” He sighs. “I put the picture you took on the refrigerator. Mom didn’t say anything, but I caught her looking at it.”

  I suppress a grin. I don’t want him to think that I’m smiling at his unhappiness, but he’s reminded me of that day at his house, kissing on the dock.

  I sit forward and place a finger over his heart. “Can I see it?” I ask, shy, embarrassed. He glances out the window. The boys run into the distance. The Jeep sits alone. We’re the only people in the universe.

  He pulls his shirt off. The carp glows in the fading light of the sunset. I trace it with my finger. I feel his eyes on me, burning, lusty.

  “Carps swim upstream against the current. No matter how hard it gets, they keep going. In legends, they swim up waterfalls and become dragons. They’re strong. They never quit. This”—he points to his chest—“reminds me to keep going.

  “And when I have a bad day remembering my dad, or when Mom disappears or pulls some other crap, or Grace”—he swallows hard—“I think about the carp, and it reminds me that I can make it through.”

  I sit back, cross my arms, and grab the bottom of my sweater. I pull it over my head. Static sends my hair flying. I toss the sweater aside and sit facing him in my cheap cotton bra.

  “I want one,” I say. Jordan looks confused. I point to the pale skin over my heart. “I want one right here. A carp that glows like the sunset.” I need a symbol of power, a reminder to keep going. Every second of my life.

  A darkness paints his face. I’ve done something wrong. He’s realized how young I am, how innocent and inexperienced. I turn away and reach for my sweater to cover myself. I’m such an idiot.

  “Right here?” He leans in and kisses the spot where my finger was. A shock passes between his lips and my skin. He laughs. “I guess that must be a sign.”

  “My birthday’s in March,” I blurt out, and feel like an idiot again.

  He moves his kisses up my neck. “Then I’ll have to get you a present.”

  Happy and Tomás had a fight. A bad one. For a week, Happy’s been sleeping in Adrian’s room while he sleeps on the couch. I haven’t seen her much. I’ve been avoiding Adrian like he’s a rabid bat swooping for my hair. We may have an understanding, but I don’t want to provoke him.

  I also don’t want to stop feeling free. Having Adrian off my back has changed things. The black monster still rings, but breathing is easier. My death doesn’t consume all my thoughts. I don’t restart the countdown to it every morning.

  Happy looks like she’s stretched beyond what a human body should be able to handle. She lies on my bed. It’s the first time anyone other than Mom’s been in my room. It makes me nervous. But Happy doesn’t seem to care about the unicorn and rainbow curtains, the lack of photos stuck to the mirror, the blank walls.

  Another thing makes me nervous. The black monster is sitting on my desk. Happy came over unannounced. I didn’t have time to hide it. If I stuff it in my pocket now, she’ll see.

  “How much longer?” I point to her stomach.

  She sighs deeply. “A couple more weeks.”

  “Oh.” I sit on the floor, keeping my eyes away from the desk.

  The front door jiggles and flies open. Laughter and the swish of plastic shopping bags float down the hallway. Two different laughs. Teddy is here.

  Happy sits
up. She comes from a world where teenagers politely greet their elders and make conversation.

  Mom sticks her head in. “Betsy, can you help unload the car?” Then she sees Happy and takes a step back. A huge smile spreads across her face.

  Happy tries to stand. “Stay here,” I say. “I’ll bring you a snack.”

  Outside, Teddy has most of the grocery bags in his arms. I pick up the last one and slam the trunk shut. I try not to meet his eye. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say to him now.

  I follow him into the house. Mom has her head stuck in the freezer, moving around the food that’s already in there so she can stuff more in. It’s like she’s afraid if she doesn’t buy all the food now, the store is going to run out.

  Happy laughs. She comes into the living room talking. Talking into the black monster.

  Teddy and I look at each other.

  “No, Happy’s my nickname,” she laughs again. “I know, right? Okay. Just a sec.”

  She holds the phone out to me. “It’s your dad,” she says, a confused look passing over her face.

  I rip the phone out of her hand and turn my back to Mom. Teddy leaps in front of her and hoists up all six shopping bags he still carries. “Who wants ice cream?” he asks in an overly jolly tone.

  The words ice cream propel Happy’s bulk into the kitchen like a dog drooling at the sound of a bell.

  I don’t turn around to look at Mom.

  I walk to my room and shut the door. “You told her you were my father?” I whisper-screech into the monster.

  “Would you rather I tell her the truth? And why is someone who isn’t you answering your phone?”

  “It was an accident. I went outside for a second.”

  “I’m getting tired of your accidents, Betsy. It’s like you have an actual death wish.”

  “I don’t,” I say. And I mean it. Before, I would have thought about that, twisted it around in my head, decided if I wanted or deserved to keep living. But now I know for sure.

  “Do I even have to tell you to not let it happen again?”

  “No.” I hang up the monster and push it under my bed.

  I wander out to the living room. I can make up something to explain to Happy, but what am I going to tell Mom?

  Happy already has a bowl in front of her. Teddy thunks a heaping scoop of rocky road into another one. He glances up at me. I flit my eyes over to Mom. Teddy hands me the bowl with a full, mustache-lifted smile. Code for “I’ll take care of it.”

  I sit down on the couch next to Happy. “Who was that?” she asks.

  I roll my eyes dramatically. Probably too dramatically. “Just another old friend who thinks he gets to tell me how to live my life.” I put as much teenybopper attitude as I can into it.

  “Another piece of your mystery,” Happy says. I detect the slightest bit of annoyance in her voice. It makes me feel horrible. I can’t afford to lose my one and only friend.

  Happy goes back to her ice cream. Mom and Teddy finish unpacking the groceries. I lick my spoon and let the sweet coldness wash around my mouth. Mom’s melodic laughter fills the room.

  “They’re in love,” Happy whispers. Her eyes follow them around the kitchen, like she’s watching one of those Mexican soap operas Mrs. Morales sometimes has on in the background at C&J’s.

  “No. They aren’t,” I say. Teddy’s a good actor.

  “Maybe you should tell them that.”

  I see them through her eyes. Mom, pretty, still young with a smile as big as her mouth will allow. Her eyes are dreamy, and she tosses a lock of hair over her shoulder. Teddy’s eyes are focused on her lips, like he would kiss them if Happy and I weren’t in the room.

  I’m not sure what I’m supposed to feel watching them. Hope? Sadness because I know it’s all a charade?

  Happy turns back to me. Her face falls, as if their happiness has reminded her of the darkness seeping into her world.

  “Tomás wants to talk.”

  “That’s good, isn’t it?”

  “Did Adrian tell you why I left Tomás?”

  I shake my head. Happy is under the well-crafted illusion that Adrian and I have become friends. That we are all one big happy gang.

  “After you brought me those cupcakes, I realized something. This baby deserves better than a drug dealer for a father. It deserves a good thing. So do I. I told Tomás I didn’t want to see him again if he was still dealing.”

  I nod. I want to congratulate her. Tell her she made the right decision. Pat her on the shoulder like the supportive friend I should be. But I don’t. I have no right to say anything about relationships. I sit on my hands. Happy turns back to the dopey couple in the kitchen.

  “Will you come with me?” she asks.

  —

  I try not to look at Adrian trying not to look at me. The tension between us is so thick I’m surprised it doesn’t knock down customers. Just seeing him makes my fear come back with a vengeance. My death countdown clock restarts.

  Tomás was supposed to be here by now. Happy and I sit in our booth. The table is empty. Our red cups of soda and juice haven’t magically appeared. Happy’s too miserable to drink anything, and without Mrs. Morales around, I’m still on Angie’s blacklist. If Happy hadn’t led the way, Angie might have turned me away at the door.

  We’ve waited in silence for twenty minutes. During that time, Adrian has cleared and reset tables, pushed in chairs, straightened pictures on the wall—anything to keep an eye on us. I’m not sure if he’s watching out of concern for Happy or out of ire for me.

  “Forget this, let’s go,” Happy says. Her voice contains an edge I haven’t heard before, like she’s standing on a precipice about to jump into a lake of snark and attitude. She can’t go there. If Happy goes over that edge, what hope do any of us have? How will I ever climb back up?

  I grab her arm. “Give it a couple more minutes.” I feel Adrian’s hard stare warm my face.

  We wait another ten. I see Tomás first and do a double take. His dark glasses and baggy pants are gone, replaced by khakis and a yellow T-shirt that says SAM’S CAR WASH. He pulls a matching yellow visor off his head and holds it over his heart. It’s the first time I’ve seen his whole face. Standing in the doorway, he looks so young and vulnerable. If I were a different person, I would want to reach out and give him a hug.

  When Happy sees him, her mouth drops. He glances at me and then motions with his head for her to follow him outside.

  When they slip out the door that doesn’t jingle, I feel cold and unwelcome. I don’t want to disturb their moment by going out after them, so I sit staring straight ahead. The muscles in my neck grow so tense that my head aches.

  I feel Adrian moving around the restaurant. Every time I catch a glimpse of him, it makes my insides roil. I don’t regret what I had to do to get him off my back. It was the way I did it. The person I have become. Even if I end up living a long life, I will always hate that part of myself. The part of me that did that to another human being.

  Outside, Tomás and Happy kiss so passionately I feel my face redden as I watch them. He leads her to his truck. She goes without a backward glance to the window where I sit.

  They pull away, and I’m back to my original state. Alone and friendless.

  —

  The walk home takes forever. It’s only February, but green buds decorate the trees along my path as they wake up from a winter where the sun never stopped shining. My turtleneck itches. I’m not looking forward to being covered up when the heat hits again.

  Teddy’s truck is parked out front. Even though we’re okay now, I still feel uneasy around him. I guess I’ll get over it if he keeps hanging out with us, which, now that he’s in love with my mother, seems likely.

  I can’t imagine Mom truly being in love with anyone. I want her to be happy, but it’s only ever been us. A third person feels like an interloper in our private battle.

  I go inside. Mom’s on the couch, leaning against Teddy. He has his arm around he
r. I try to sneak past them, but Teddy’s head snaps up. The look on his face tells me something is wrong—very wrong. Mom’s face is red and puffy. When she sees me, it crumples into a sob.

  I drop to my knees in front of the couch. “What? What is it?”

  Teddy pulls Mom closer. His voice is soft, but slow and clear. “There was a fire. Where you used to live. A lot of people died.”

  “Mom?” My voice cracks and goes up an octave.

  She closes her eyes and nods. She reaches out. I let her take me in her arms.

  Did I do this? Is this my fault too? Teddy reads the terror on my face.

  “It was electrical. Poor maintenance,” he says.

  “Really?” I don’t believe him. He would say anything to protect Mom.

  “I talked to the investigator myself. They’re sure it wasn’t arson. It was a tragic accident.”

  “That place was a death trap,” Mom says. Her voice goes cold. Colder than I have ever heard it. She wipes the tears off her now set and stony face. “Time for dinner.”

  She shoots to her feet and moves into the kitchen. I glance at Teddy. He’s as confused as I am.

  Bluebird Estates looks shinier than usual. Extra broken glass from Friday night’s benders glitter in an abstract mosaic in the parking lot. I told Mom I have a school event. It will last all day. She doesn’t ask.

  I wait on the curb for Jordan’s Jeep. The air is starting to warm. The sun peeks out from behind puffy white clouds. He wouldn’t tell me where we’re going, just that it’s an early birthday present.

  He pulls up wearing sunglasses—the first time I’ve seen him wear any. They’re opaque. I can’t see his eyes. I get in, and he leans over to give me a peck on the lips. Two coffees sit in the cup holders. He plops a fast-food bag in my lap. Inside is a stack of rapidly cooling breakfast sandwiches.

  “Road trip,” he announces.

  —

  I’ve only been to Seattle twice. Marie brought me the week before I started middle school to go clothes shopping. She pretended like it was a special treat, but now I know that she realized I’d be fighting a battle as the free-lunch foster kid at the rich school.