The Convenience of Lies

by K. A. Castillo

  I know that Ramon was not lying to me. So I try a new start by saying, “But Ramon showed me where the rock was. He found the right rock.” I suddenly realize that in my dash to get out of the summer heat, I left the rock in my car, and I feel like kicking myself. Damn it!

  “Does it have any markings on it?” He says, almost like he is jeering at me.

  I feel trapped, because I have not found any markings on the rock yet. I had wanted to bring it so that the cop could look. Police are supposed to be trained in that sort of thing, I had hoped his eye would be able to spot something that mine hadn't. “No, but it fits perfectly into the hole.” I feel like this is the best I can say. Hopefully if he realizes this rock has SOME merit, he will decide it's worth looking at.

  “Well, that could be any rock then. Ramon just found one because he knew how big the hole was and the size of the original rock,” Deputy Carlson says triumphantly.

  “Ramon only saw the hole once, and only briefly when I showed it to him. And the rock fits perfectly. He would not have been able to find a rock that worked so well unless that was the one. And there were not that many rocks where he took me to look for it, it's not like he had a selection.”

  “Not unless he made the hole himself. Then he would know exactly what that rock looked like and where it was.” Now the cop seems to be closing the case. He will not discuss this anymore.

  I am not finished yet because I want to convince the Deputy Carlson that Ramon is not as awful as he seems to think he is. I feel I'm starting to plead to this unrelenting cop. “But Ramon knew exactly where it was. He had no time to put a rock by the liquor store around my house because I picked him up five minutes after our conversation.”

  “How did Ramon know the rock was there?”

  “He saw in the tape where Brent and Kurt dropped it off.” I start to feel like I am explaining everything that I've already told him. Wasn't he listening the first time? Clearly not.

  “Who was holding the video camera?”

  I had not thought of that one. “It must have been Brent. He could drive and hold a camera at the same time,” I say, doubting even myself.

  “How would he do that?”

  I reach out my left hand like it is grabbing onto a steering wheel, and hold up my right hand like I am holding a camera. It seems obvious that we have two hands that could be doing two different things.

  Deputy Carlson looks at me suspiciously. “I will be asking these people about it within the next week,” he says briskly.

  “They won't tell you the truth,” I say, sure of this. Why does he need to talk to them anyway? I've already done all the investigative work for him. “I think we need a search permit for that video tape.”

  Dismissing my last comment he says, “Well, both Brent and Ramon are eighteen, so they should tell me the truth, especially because this is big boy prison now,” he jeers at me again. At this point I'm starting to get used to his surprisingly unprofessional conduct, but that doesn't make me any happier about it.

  I am thinking of Ramon, and that look Brent Andrews gave me when we went to his house, and I know that neither one will say a word. “They won't tell you a thing.”

  “Look, I have been doing this job for fifteen years. I know how to get kids to talk. The only way we are going to find out who did it is if we do some questioning.” Deputy Carlson is totally irritated with me now. “Don't you think these people deserve punishment for their actions?”

  “Yes. Officer. I do.” My voice is icy and crisp now. I am done with this insolent cop. “That's why I came here. But I would appreciate it if you do not question any of them and just forget that I even came here. Clearly you are unwilling to listen to anything that I say.” I get up and start to leave. I know that he will get nowhere by questioning everyone and just end up blaming Ramon. There is no point for him to do any investigation because I know he will be unable to find the truth since his mind is already made up.

  “If that is what you want,” he replies right before the door closes behind me with a slam.

  I practically run out of the station to my car. I can't stand another minute in that freezing building. Everything about it was cold, from the temperature, to the colors, to the treatment I received. And now that Deputy Carlson has been incapable of helping me, I have reached a dead end. I am not going to get that search permit. There is no legal way I can get ahold of that tape. Deputy Carlson has road blocked me. I can now see only two options. I can either break the law by breaking into Brent Andrews' home to get that tape, becoming a criminal myself, or I can do nothing, and let these bastards get away with it all. I've been cornered. There is no good end to this drama now. Deputy Carlson's insolence is what is allowing these boys to get away with everything.

  I jump in my car and call up Shane. I need an escape from my own thoughts. “Could I come over?” He consents, and in a couple minutes, I am over at his house.

  “I shouldn't tell you this because I promised Ramon I wouldn't tell anybody, but I have to talk to someone.” I feel my eyes are starting to sting, like they can't hold back my disappointment any longer. “I know I can trust you. Today I went to talk to the police about everything with my car, and the cop was a complete dick to me.” Finally, now that I'm in a safe place, I start to feel tears trickling down my face. Big, fat, unrelenting tears are collecting on my eyelashes, dripping off my nose, and pooling together on my chin.

  “He was mean to you!!! I can't believe that! But at least they talked to you. See, if I walked in there, the cops would have been like, 'Thanks for coming, step this way. You fit a criminal profile.' It's because I'm brown,” Shane says, grinning.

  For the first time since leaving the police station, I smile. Despite his looks, Shane really does know how to be charming.

  “Do you want to see the rock?” I ask Shane.

  “Sure,” he says. I fish the rock out of my trunk and show it to Shane. “That's not a rock! That's a boulder! Let me see it.” Shane says, reaching out for the rock. I hand the rock to Shane, and he starts peering at it intensely. “There is even paint on it,” he announces.

  “Really!? Where!? I couldn't find any myself.” If only I had known this while I was talking to that belligerent cop.

  “See, right there.” He points out a very fine line of maroon, just the color of my car, right along the edge of the sharpest ridge of the rock. It looks like a person took out a crayon and carefully drew the line in, but it really is from my car. This sharp ridge of the rock must have been where the rock ripped through the metal on my trunk.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Deputy Carlson's inability to help me has forced me to spend a couple of days mulling around my other options on what to do.

  “Ramon, I want to try and get Brent Andrews or Kurt to pay for my car, but I promised you that I wouldn't do anything,” I say, as if I am asking his permission to act on it.

  We are sitting at our favorite hangout place at Pureza Elementary, the one with the patio and the lunch tables. I always like to sit on the top of one of the tables with my feet on the seat. Ramon usually stands nearby. Part of why we like this spot is that it is really quiet and private, with school being out for summer break and everything.

  Ramon understands my intent and tells me, “Do whatever you want,” though he doesn't seem too pleased.

  “But what am I going to say? I don't want to let Brent Andrews know that you told me anything, because then he will do something to you!” I need Ramon's input on this because despite how much I've been racking my brain, I can't seem to be able to come up with a viable solution to this problem. Additionally, I want to let Ramon know what I am hoping to do beforehand, in case it does backfire and he gets the blame.

  “Did you ever ask your neighbors if they saw anything?” Ramon asks. When I tell him I haven't, Ramon says, “You can say that one of your neighbors saw what happened and told you.”

  “But it has been over three weeks since my car was hit! Why would it have taken so long for
them to say something?” I ask, thinking out loud. It would be amazing if my neighbors knew something, but I highly doubt it considering how long it's been, and they haven't said anything before now. If only! I think for a moment, and then continue, “I know! My neighbors across the street are English! I could say that my neighbors were taking one of those really early morning flights to England, and they saw all that happened. They didn't tell me until now because they just got back!!!” I get more and more excited as I see how flawless my idea is. “You just need to tell me exactly what happened, so I can make the story realistic.”

  “Well, Brent Andrews and Kurt drove past your house slowly, twice. The third time is when they hit your car, and then they turned right at the corner,” he says. “Kurt and Brent didn't want to leave any evidence, so they went back and picked up the rock. That's when they dumped it off at the liquor store. They parked on the side street by your house, and Kurt went over and picked up the rock,” Ramon explains.

  “So what am I going to say when I talk to Brent Andrews? That my neighbor saw when they hit my car, and that she looked out and saw Kurt pick up the rock?” Even as I'm saying it, this story sounds lame.

  “Say whatever you want to. But, do it in person.” He gives me Kurt's number; I already have Brent's. “When you talk to them, I know they are going to try and bring me into their story somehow. So, just be ready for that!”

  After I get home, I lock myself in my room for privacy. Fortunately, my mom respects that when I close the door, it means I want to be left alone. I know that Brent Andrews is not going to be happy to hear from me, but I'm just going to have to put up with it.

  Once he answers his cell, which is a surprise in itself, I say, “Brent, I really need to talk to you in person.” I feel very businesslike.

  “Why don't you tell me now?” He is already defensive, as expected.

  “It's not something I can say on the phone; I really need to see you in person,” I insist.

  “Umm…let me call you back later.” He hangs up before I can fit another word in edgewise.

  Thinking that wasn't a terrible conversation, but it could have gone better, I decide to call up Kurt. He has been getting less flack for what happened, so maybe he will be more willing to comply.

  “Kurt, I really need to talk to you in person.”

  “I'm at work, and I won't be off until 9:00. Why don't you just tell me now?” he says.

  “It's not something I can say on the phone, I really need to see you in person,” I reiterate. Obviously I would have said it on the phone if I felt like it was appropriate.

  “What is it about?” he asks, getting scared now.

  “I'll tell you later. How about when you get off work? We can meet somewhere.”

  “Okay, I'll call you when I'm off work.”

  Now I am at a standstill. I can't get any more done until Kurt gets off of work. But, my mind is still whirring with everything that's happened. I realize I need to take my mind off of it, and so I scoop myself a bowl of ice cream. This is the only way I can cool myself off at home since we don't have an air conditioner. I also grab a book, and just as I am settling down with my book and ice cream on our shaded back patio, my phone goes off. Tyler is calling me.

  “What the fuck are you trying to do Mackenzie!” he shouts angrily.

  This completely catches me off guard. “What are you talking about?” I ask, honestly baffled.

  “Everybody thinks that you are going to try and have Kurt jumped,” he accuses me.

  “Why the fuck would I want to jump Kurt?”

  “It seemed really weird when you called him. You want to meet him late at night, and you won't even tell him why.” Tyler is just vibrating with fury. “You got Kurt's number from Ramon, and you want Ramon to jump Kurt!”

  Something like this never would have crossed my mind. I can't stand being wrongfully accused, and this is a wild accusation. “I would have met up with Kurt now if he wasn't at work!!! I want to TALK to him! What is wrong with that?!?!” I interject severely.

  “Why should I trust you?” Really? That's what Tyler is thinking? What have I ever done to make him think I would set someone up to get jumped?

  All Tyler's hatred makes me want to do is hide, like a turtle in its shell. It seems like he's uncontainable, like a bomb about to explode. But instead, I stand up for myself, which is all I can do now. “Tyler, if you knew anything about me, you would know that I never would want to harm Kurt, or anybody,” I say severely. Tyler is twisting things into what he wants to see, just the way Kira does. I do my best to cover up how fragile I feel under his false accusations. But I can feel my spirit start to split, like it's been stabbed with a knife of fire. Unable to hold it back anymore, I start to cry. And it's not one of those quiet cries that I can keep to myself. It's one of those sniffly, gaspy cries that are so hard to cover up. I can't take it anymore! All I am is a girl who was victimized and wants to see justice. And it seems like Tyler is refusing to listen to me, just like Kira refuses to listen to Ramon. I don't know how to evade Tyler's wrath.

  “Are you really crying?” Tyler asks me, slightly softened.

  “YES! I am not talking to Ramon.” This is a lie, and I know it, but it's the only way I can get Tyler to stop falsely accusing me, and accept that all I want is to talk to, and not beat up, Kurt.

  “Okay, okay, just stop crying. I believe you. Listen, can you just tell me what you want to tell Kurt?” To my shock, finally Tyler seems ready to be reasonable.

  “No, it's something for Brent or Kurt to hear first. It wouldn't be right for me to talk to anyone about it before I talk to them,” I insist.

  “Come on, just tell me. Kurt is my friend. I just want everything to go smoothly,” Tyler tries to sweet talk me.

  Realizing my desire to follow Ramon's directions and talk to the boys in person is not going to materialize, I say, “Oh-kay,” making it clear I'm reluctantly changing my mind. I tell him my whole made up story about my English neighbor's trip to England and how they just got back. When I am explaining this to Tyler, it doesn't sound lame anymore. I find myself wondering at my own brilliance.

  “Why do you want to talk to Kurt, why don't you just go to the police?” Tyler asks skeptically.

  Considering how poor my experience was with the police not too long ago, I have very little desire to ever turn to them for help again. But, I don't want Tyler to know that I have indeed talked to the police, and I certainly don't want him to know that my story is a figment of my imagination. Thinking quickly, I say, “I don't want to fuck over Kurt and Brent's life. Kurt wants to be a firefighter. I don't see the point of ruining that when he is so young. I just want them to pay for the damage, and I hope that at least Kurt has learned his lesson,” I reply.

  Tyler soaks up my story. Really these lies I'm telling him are just white lies. They are a means to an end and an attempt to protect Ramon. Regardless of the lies, I am still conveying my intent properly, which I guess is all that matters. “You are sooo nice Mackenzie. You know what, I will talk to Kurt for you, and hopefully we can clear this all up. I can't believe you are so nice! I am seriously sorry about what I was saying before.”

  “Maybe you should try talking to me next time, instead of jumping to conclusions.” Despite his apology, I still feel guarded around Tyler. If he is able to go off on me like that so quickly, then what's to stop him from doing that again?

  “Yes, I will. Here, let me talk to Kurt, and call you right back,” Tyler says. I agree, and continue working on my ice cream while I wait to hear back from him. It looks like I am finally going to get the confession I need. I have been waiting for an opportune moment to tell Kira about my conversation with Ramon, and I know that for her to believe it, I am going to need a way to prove that what he told me was right. Perhaps, once I get this confession, I will have evidence to convince her to believe Ramon's story. But, how am I even going to start this conversation with her? I am concerned that as soon as I mention that I was talking t
o Ramon, she's going to ridicule me for believing him. She will turn deaf to hearing any more. How will I get her to listen to me? We have been partners-at-arms trying to get to the bottom of what happened, and we did stage that fake fight with the belief that it would encourage Ramon to spill his guts. So, I know that she is going to want to know what I found out; she has a right to know. But, I realize that this is a tricky conversation that needs to be done carefully or else it will cause a big rift between us, which is the last thing I want to do. I know I am going to tell her, but first I need to figure out how. I know that getting this confession is going to be integral for our discussion to go well.

  Once Tyler finally calls back, it sounds like he's bouncing with excitement. “Mackenzie, Kurt is with me right now. He has something to say to you, but you aren't going to tell your mom, right?”

  “No, of course not. I promise to keep whatever he says to myself.” Here is another lie. But, I know that they don't want me to tell my mother because they think my mom will freak out and make this into a big deal. I certainly know my mom better than they do, and I know this will not be the case with her. Additionally, how else am I going to explain to her how I've gotten compensation from Kurt, assuming that happens?

  “I can't believe you are so nice, Mackenzie. Here is Kurt,” Tyler says happily. I'm having a little trouble believing that he really thinks I'm so great; it feels like he's trying to butter me up. But, I enjoy his pleasantries nonetheless.

  “So, what is it you wanted to tell me?” Kurt asks me, even though we both know exactly what it is.

  I tell Kurt word for word what I told Tyler. I make sure there are no discrepancies between what I tell Kurt and what I told Tyler so that nothing will be fishy when they compare stories.

  “Well, Mackenzie, I want to tell you that I was the one who threw the rock, and Brent was driving. I know that Ramon will deny this, but he was with us.” I let out a sigh of disbelief. Kurt's voice gets more urgent, “It was Ramon's idea! He was sitting in the middle between Brent and me. Ramon will never admit it! He had me throw the rock because he thought that then it wouldn't get back to him!”