by Amanda Adair
“That’s boring,” Piper says. “I already know a lot of these folks.”
“Just be creative, everyone.” He points at Cora. “You start.”
“Okay, so I need one truth and one lie, right?”
“First of all, tell us your name,” says Mr. Simmons.
“Cora,” she says. “I go out for a run every day and I grew up on an island.”
Mr. Simmons puts his hand on his chin. “Who thinks it’s a lie that she runs every day?”
“Me,” Jason says.
“No, just raise your hands, no talking,” Mr. Simmons instructs.
Only four people raise their hand. I hesitate but I decide not to raise my hand either. It seems way to unrealistic that she grew up on an island.
“The rest of you must think it’s a lie that she grew up on an island,” says Mr. Simmons.
“I think they’re both lies,” Tammy says.
“That’s not the meaning of this game,” he says. “Tell us, Cora, what’s a lie and what’s true.”
“I don’t go for a run every day, I hate running.” Cora grabs a pen and plays with it. “But I grew up on an island.”
“You’re from Washington,” Everly says.
Cora turns towards her. “From Whidbey Island.”
“Where’s that?”
“Close to Seattle.”
“Okay, girls. Why don’t you go next?” Mr. Simmons looks at Anna. “One truth and one lie.”
“My name’s Anna, I’m Mexican and I’ve swum with sharks.”
How do they come up with a lie so quickly?
“Again, who thinks she’s not Mexican?”
Half of the class raise their hands. Me included.
“So, tell us, are you Mexican or have you swum with sharks?,” Mr Simmons says.
“Half of you are wrong, I’m Mexican.”
“Anna Kaschak is Mexican?,” Caleb asks.
“My Mom’s Russian, but my Dad’s Mexican,” she explains and laughs. “Kaschak is the last name of my Mom.”
Maybe Anna can help me learn Spanish, so I won’t fall behind in class.
“Who just said this game’s boring because you guys know each other so well?,” Mr. Simmons asks.
“Her,” Jason says and points at Piper.
“Didn’t you also believe she’s not Mexican?”
We all turn around. Piper nods.
“Good, seems like you don’t know it all. How about you go next,” Mr. Simmons suggests.
I can’t think of a lie. I just hope this lesson’s over before it’s my turn. I feel like an outcast. Everyone’s lived here for a while now and I have no idea what it’s like living in a small town.
“I’m Piper Flores,” she says.
Why does she always say her last name?
“Flores, what a nice name,” says Mr. Simmons.
“I’m–,” Piper starts and pauses. “I’ve once met Kylie Jenner at a party and I was born in Los Angeles.”
“Who thinks she was born in Los Angeles?,” Mr. Simmons asks.
Again, half of the class raise their hands. I don’t.
“Where were you born?”
“Philadelphia.”
“So, you’ve met Kylie Jenner? I didn’t know,” Penelope says.
“In New York,” she says. “My stepdad invited me to a PR event at Kylie’s pop-up shop.”
“Interesting,” Mr. Simmons says and looks at me. “You’re next.”
I freeze. I haven’t thought of a lie.
“I’m Samantha.”
I need some time to think. Well, I haven’t even thought of something true about myself yet. I could say I’ve lived in Toronto. No, wait, they already know. I could say I want to be an actress. Damn it, I already told them that I’m into acting. I could tell that my Mom is an actress, but isn’t it too obvious? I could tell them I was raised in San Francisco. Thank god, I have a lie. I’ll say I speak four languages. Besides English I only speak French.
“Samantha?,” I hear Mr. Simmons say.
I need something true about me.
“Just a second,” I say.
Mr. Simmons raises his left eyebrow.
I come up with a better lie and say, “My natural hair color isn’t copper red and I was interviewed on the news once, in Peru.”
I was on vacation in Peru when I was ten years old. Me and my parents went there in summer. It was super hot and humid down there. We walked down the streets in Lima, on our way to the National Museum, when a camera crew came closer. They wanted to know why we were visiting Peru and what we’ve done so far. I was so nervous but so proud when I was allowed to answer. I told them we’ve seen the cathedral, that we’ve been to the Huaca Pucllana temple and to Miraflores. Only afterwards I realized it was live TV.
Mr. Simmons visibly relaxes and says, “Okay, who thinks she doesn’t have copper red hair naturally?”
I look around. Most students raise their hand, but not Cora, Piper, Penelope and Axel.
“What’s true and what’s incorrect, Samantha?”
“This,” I say and point at my head, “is my natural hair color. And I was interviewed on the news during vacation with my parents in Lima, Peru.”
“Good,” he says and looks around. “You.”
I turn around to see who he’s talking to. It’s Axel.
“Tell us a lie and a truth about yourself.”
“I’m Axel,” he says. “I’ve had three girlsfriends and my family’s dutch.”
“Alright, Axel,” says Mr. Simmons. “Who thinks he didn’t have three girlfriends?”
Only three of us raise their hands. I don’t.
“So, most of your girlfriends are in class, I assume.”
Some of the girls start giggling.
“I can tell you,” Axel says, “I’m not dutch.”
Axel is blonde, tall and a bit chubby. He could be mistaken for a dutch boy. I get it why some girls might fall for him. At first sight he seems charming in some way but also witty. After Axel there are almost twenty students left. It takes a while for each of them to tell us one lie and one truth about themselves, and for us to guess. None of them take as long as me to come up with something. What’s going on with me? Normally I’m good at these fun games.
“Great,” says Mr. Simmons, after Bran told us what his lie was. “Let’s do some experiment during the last twenty minutes.”
22
At Maywood lunch takes place after the third period and that applies for all students. At my middle school we had two different periods for lunch, one was A, the other B. B started half an hour later. That was so the students wouldn’t face a too crowded cafeteria. I kind of miss my middle school, I miss larger schools in general. I’m just not used to such rural environments, to living in such a small town. The cafeteria at Maywood can never be too crowded.
After my third subject today, which was English, I lost track of my classmates because I went to the restroom. I’m quite lost. I’m outside in the hallway now but I have no clue where the cafeteria might be. I decide to ask the next person who walks past me.
“Sorry,” I say, smile and walk towards a girl who must be in senior year. “Where’s the cafeteria?”
Even though Maywood is so small I still have to ask for directions because there are simply no signs, no help for people who have never been here before. But why? Literally everyone who’s attending Maywood High grew up here.
She doesn’t stop walking but says, “down here.” She points in the direction she’s going.
“Thanks,” I say but she’s already gone.
When I reach the cafeteria, I hesitate. There are a lot of round tables in this hall. At each table about eight students can have a seat. I look around, trying to find someone I know from class. I can see Cora, Everly and Anna sitting at a table close to the counter. But there’s not a single chair left for me to sit on. I decide to just go get some food first. I can figure out with whom to sit later. At the counter they have lots of cooked vegetables, salted
potatoes, baked fish, chicken nuggets and some sort of noodles and rice. I go for vegetables and baked fish. A corpulent lady with a huge smile shows me where to get plates and cutlery, then I fill my plate with my desired meal components. As I turn around with a tray in both hands I look around once more. Maybe I can spot some of my other classmates, or maybe one of the seats at Cora’s table isn’t taken anymore. Well, bad luck, that one is still full. At a table close to the huge windows I see Piper’s dark brown high ponytail.
“Hey,” I say as soon as I stand right behind her.
Penelope sits next to her, as always. Other than her, Axel, Jason and two older looking guys sit on the other side of the table.
Piper turns around and says, “Elizabeth.”
“No, it’s Samantha,” I correct her.
She looks quite bored, or arrogant, or both. “Oh.”
Without waiting for her to say anything I sit down. The tray makes a scratching sound as it hits the tabletop. “Do you already know what you want to do for the science fair?”
“I’m working with Penelope,” she answers and leans back, so I can see Penelope.
“I know,” I say and smile. “I didn’t mean to ask to work with you.”
“Okay,” she says and turns to Axel. “So, what I was about to say was I don’t feel like going to PE today.”
“Just say you’re on your period,” he suggests. “Isn’t that what gets you girls out of anything?”
“I’m not bitchy enough today to pretend like I’m on my period,” she says.
“I don’t want to go either,” Penelope says.
There’s absolutely nothing I could add to their conversation, so I just sit there silently and eat. It’s as if I’m not even present. The fish tastes great, so do these vegetables. Sure, it’s still a typical cafeteria meal but it’s not bad.
“Samantha,” Piper says and looks at me. “We’re having a games evening tonight. Be there at five pm.” She lays down her phone on the table next to my plate. “Give me your number, I’ll send you the address.”
Why not. At least somebody finally asks me to hang out.
“Okay,” I say and grab her phone. Its screen is completely damaged and scratched. I struggle to save my number. The screen has a huge crack right where the keyboard is. I have to tap on some of the letters twice. I put the phone next to her plate.
“I’m done, let’s go,” Piper suddenly says and gets up. She just leaves her tray and an almost full plate of salad on it on the table and leaves.
Axel, Jason and Penelope follow her. Just me and the two seniors are left, who are talking to each other, so basically it’s just me sitting here all alone. I finish eating and bring my tray back to the counter.
“Hi, new girl,” I hear someone say. It’s Anna, Cora’s friend.
Normally it’s fun to be the new one, but not here.
“Are you going to PE now?,” I ask her.
Right behind her appear Everly and Cora. Apparently they really do show up only as a trio.
Anna shakes her head. “No, but Cora and Everly go there.”
“Where does it take place?,” I want to know.
There’s not really any orientation at this school, it’s all just learning by doing, which I hope is not their teaching methodology.
“They’ll take you there,” Anna says, waves goodbye and leaves.
At Maywood they intentionally have PE only during the last period of the day. I follow the other girls to the locker room. It’s not within the school building but on the outside, in a smaller building close to the sports field and gymnasium.
Cora, who’s now silently walking in front of me, told me she’s very much into PE.
“I’ll totally receive an athletic scholarship,” she said. “I’m sure of that. I want to study Medicine.”
As for me, I’m pretty good at swimming and gymnastics. I’m flexible but I’m not exactly the fastest or strongest girl. I also love ice skating and dancing. I’ve enjoyed PE in middle school, but I have a feeling that the PE teacher at Maywood is going to drill us instead of having a fun time with us. He wants us to call him just “Coach”. I even forgot his actual name. Did he even tell us? He welcomed us on the schoolyard and told us to go get changed, then come to the sports field. Today we start with long jumps.
The girls’ locker room at Maywood is small and we’re all pretty close to each other. I put my stuff into one of the deep blue lockers in front of me and take off my white long-sleeved shirt.
“Do Canadians wear bras?,” I hear Piper ask.
Canadians? I feel like she’s talking to me. I turn around. Piper’s standing right behind me, staring at me with her dark greenish eyes.
“What?,” is the only thing that comes out of my mouth.
“Girl, what is this?,” she says and touches the middle of my bra.
I step back, because I’m so surprised she just touches me like that.
“A bra,” I say and realize that all the other girls in the locker room are now staring at us. “The thing that holds your breasts.”
Some girls giggle. I look down at myself. I don’t know what she means. I’m wearing a bralette today and that’s what I wear most often. It’s comfortable not to have these small hooks on your back. And I’m way too flat to wear a regular bra. But Piper has some large breasts, maybe a C cup already.
Piper touches my left breast with her finger. The other girls start laughing.
“Funny,” she says and walks away. “You shouldn’t borrow stuff from your granny.”
Both of my grandma’s are actually dead. I didn’t borrow anything from them. Without any reaction I turn back around and put on some shorts. I’m way too blindsided at the moment. Piper herself is wearing a regular push-up-bra. It’s red, with lace at the straps. She is wearing some matching thong, so everyone in here can see her ass.
Cora looks at me for a second, then turns to Everly. Since Anna’s not here, I’ll be third wheeling, which is the worst thing to happen on your first day of high school. Hopefully we won’t work in pairs this afternoon.
“I’ve missed this all summer,” says Cora as she and Everly walk outside, without me.
They’re not even checking if I want to come with them. I get the feeling that it will be harder than expected to fit in here. I leave the locker room as second last.
“Girls and boys,” Coach says as soon as we’re all lined up outside on a meadow, “I want to see what you’re able to. Half of you will join me doing long jumps right now, the other half will have some fun on the running track and will join me doing long jumps afterwards.”
His voice is rough and doesn’t sound too friendly. He’s one of those men who don’t intend to talk with such a loud voice, it comes naturally.
“Here,” he says and walks towards the middle of our group, “we split. Everyone to the left of…” He stares at Jason right in front of him.
“Jason.”
“Everyone to the left of Jason follows me to the long jump pit,” he says and starts walking away. “Everybody else go have some fun running in circles for half an hour minimum.”
I’m one of those kids who have to follow the teacher. I’d rather run. For a second I think about sneaking to the other group, but I’d have to do long jumps anyway, now or later. I’m waiting in line, waiting for my turn while others jump further and further.
“You didn’t go to Maywood middle, did you?,” the girl right behind me asks.
I turn around. She has curls, just like me, but her hair is short and black. I haven’t seen her before. She wasn’t in any of my other classes.
“No, I’ve just moved here,” I answer.
“Good,” the Coach screams and clasps his hands. “Next time you can do better.”
As I assumed he isn’t very motivating.
“Where are you from?,” she asks. “By the way I’m Jessica.”
“Samantha,” I say. “I’m from Toronto.”
“Canadian, nice!”
“Not ex
actly Canadian, I’m American, I just moved to Canada with my parents,” I explain to her.
I stopped paying attention to the long jump pit. No one’s left in front of me. It’s my turn.
“Go,” the Coach instructs.
I step forward and almost slip. The grass is pretty wet, it was raining yesterday. The Coach looks at me skeptically. He looks at me as if he thinks I can’t do it. Maybe he’s right. I can do lots of things, but long jump isn’t one of them, that’s for sure. I even went to ice skating competitions in Vancouver, that’s how good I was at it. I also won lots of awards and medals for swimming. As second fastest swimmer in middle school I know what it feels like to be one of the athletic ones but now that’s all over. I try hard to look competent. I don’t want the Coach to think I’m too stupid to jump. But as soon as I position myself behind the line he drew in front of the pit and run I feel sick. I run, I jump, I feel myself fly in the air, I close my eyes, and I land on my feet in the middle of the sand. I open my eyes again. I didn’t fall over but as soon as the Coach comes closer and measures the distance I’m disappointed, and he is, too. I can see that in his face.
“Well,” he says. “Okay.”
Okay means bad. I walk away to the ones who’ve already jumped. I watch the rest of our group jump. Most of them jump way behind the spot I landed on. But it’s okay. It’s not exactly ideal that the first thing my PE teacher and my classmates see is this hideous jump of mine, but I can’t do anything about it now. After all of them had their turn we switch places with the other group. Our new task is running. Cora and Everly walk in front of me. I’m right behind them but I’m not in the mood for talking right now.
“You’re done,” the Coach screams. “Go get showered, you all smell like the San Francisco fish market.”
Firstly, the fish market smells way heavier. Secondly, I wonder if the Coach just can’t speak on a normal volume level. Every time he opens his mouth he screams from the depth of his throat. Maybe it’s something PE teachers develop over time. Most sports are loud, so they have to be even louder.
“We’ll do athletics until December,” he announces. “And then it’s time for hurdles.”
I swallow and look around. Most of the others seem fine with doing athletics for the rest of this year. While following the others back to the girls’ locker room I wonder if I should work out on the weekends, just to become better and keep up with people like Cora. She was the one who jumped farthest. I’m even worse at high jump than long jump.