Even When You Lie to Me (7 page)

Attendance at our school’s first pep rally of the year was mandatory for underclassmen. As a senior I could have escaped early, since I could drive, but Lila was a field hockey player, and she’d instructed me to show up and at least pretend to be enthusiastic.

Normally I would have sat with her, but she was in another room with the field hockey team, waiting to be cheered as they strutted into the gym. I wandered around the half-full bleachers, trying to act like I was looking for a friend. I knew Drummond wouldn’t be there—he’d left early—but I half hoped he’d turn up anyway. Finally I spotted Katie from our English class. She was popular but she’d always been nice to me.

“Mind if I sit here?” I asked. She was alone, texting someone.

“Course not,” she said, smiling at me. “How’s it going?”

“Okay,” I said. “Hate these things.”

“Oh, really?” she said. She peered at her vibrating phone again. “Sorry, just a sec,” she said, and resumed texting.

As her thumbs tapped the screen, I looked around the gym, trying to seem like I was coolly observing the action and not just being socially outmatched by a phone. The bleachers were filling up as groups of kids barreled in, already giving off a dangerous hum of electricity.

“Sorry,” said Katie, looking up. “Insecure boyfriend.”

I knew I was supposed to offer my own boyfriend anecdote here. “Oh,” I said. “Isn’t he coming to this?”

“He doesn’t go here,” she said. “He’s in college.”

“Which college?”

She ducked her head a little. “Chatham Valley.” The local community college.

“Ah, right,” I said.

“K-Dawg!” someone shouted. It was a girl I didn’t recognize; she sat down next to Katie and they started whispering frantically, their foreheads practically touching.

I pulled out my own phone and fiddled with it, wishing I had a text to respond to, even from my parents. The last text from my dad had been a picture of Frida with a sombrero on her head. The last one from my mother had been a reminder that she was going to be late and I needed to pick up some eggs for her. Cage-free.

“You meeting that loser later?” the girl said.

Katie hit her but laughed. “You’re one to talk.”

“Sean may be a loser but at least he’s got a gigantic…” The other girl spread her hands (Jesus, that was way too far, wasn’t it?), and Katie laughed. That must have been Sean Varniska from my class. I was embarrassed that I suddenly knew this about Sean, that anyone in our school knew such a private thing about him.

“Hey.”

I turned to see Asha and Dev standing on the bleacher below mine. I’d never been so glad to see them, or anyone.

“Hi!” I said, and Asha laughed, clearly taken aback by my enthusiasm.

“Want to sit here?” Dev said, pointing at their bleacher.

“Please,” I said. I moved to their row.

“Guess you’re not a fan of these,” Asha said, sitting down with me.

“How could you tell?”

She laughed. “Just a hunch.”

Dev sat down on my other side. “So why are you guys here?” I asked.

Dev pointed at a camera Asha was pulling out of her bag. It looked professional. “They let her take photos for the yearbook because no one else is interested.”

Asha glared at him. “Dev is here because he can’t drive.”

Dev laughed and said, “Fair point.” I didn’t usually trust guys my own age, but there was something about his laugh I liked: it was quick and friendly, like he was always ready to be amused by your jokes, no matter how terrible.

“And our brother is on the lacrosse team,” Asha said.

I turned to Dev. “Not you.”

“What an assumption! Look at these muscles,” he said. I started to blush, but then he rolled up one sleeve and poked at his flaccid bicep. He was joking. I relaxed.

“You’re wasted on the paper,” I said. “They probably need a water boy.”

He laughed again; his whole body shook with it. “I’ll look into it,” he said.

“It’s our little brother, Jai,” Asha said. “I doubt he cares whether we’re here, but our mom would kill us if we didn’t show up. What about you?”

“Lila’s on the field hockey team,” I said. “She said I have to whistle when she comes out.”

“Doubt she’ll be able to hear yours above all the others,” Asha said.

I glanced at her to see her expression, but she was looking down at her camera, adjusting the settings. “Sorry,” she said when she saw me looking at her. “It’s hard to get the white balance right with these artificial lights.”

“Ah,” I said. “Of course. But that
camera’s…good?”

“It’s her Christmas and birthday presents for the next five years,” Dev said. “You know what I got for Christmas last year? A pair of hiking boots. I don’t even hike.”

“I think they were trying to give you a hint,” Asha said as I laughed. “Like, go outside more than once a month.”

“I play plenty of sports,” Dev said.

“I don’t think playing them on your Xbox counts.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “The outdoors is overrated anyway.”

“
Thank
you, Charlie,” Dev said. “I’m glad someone here makes sense.” We smiled at each other.

The gym had mostly filled up. There was an expectant thrum in the air like the murmur of a band tuning up.

“Here we go,” Asha said.

Dr. Crowley crossed the gym with long fluid steps, looking crisp and cool despite the damp heat. “Welcome, everyone,” she said when she got to the microphone. The crowd whooped; kids drummed their feet on the bleachers.

“This is our inaugural rally, so let’s make the most of it.” She smiled indulgently at the crowd. “First up is Coach Rick Perona.”

“Thanks, Dr. C.,” Coach Perona said as he took the microphone. “All right, children, settle down.” His eyes gleamed as the crowd cheered. “As you all know, we haven’t had the best couple of seasons. We’ve had setbacks; we’ve had
disappointments.”
He paused to survey the crowd. “But this year, that’s all gonna change.” The noise swelled. “Introducing your new quarterback, Ethan Salvato!”

Ethan burst through the gym doors as if the sound itself were propelling him out. He whooped as he jogged through the gym.

“Sean Varniska, running back!”

Katie stood up and screamed. As Sean ran past, I imagined his penis flopping around in his shorts like an uncooked hot dog hanging out of a split-open pack. I wondered how he could run with it if it was really as big as that girl had said. Wouldn’t it be uncomfortable, slapping him on the leg or something? I tried thinking of him with an erection, but I couldn’t picture Sean’s goofy face contorted in…effort.

Dev pointed out their brother when they sent out the lacrosse team’s players. As Jai stood in line he searched the bleachers, and when he spotted Asha and Dev, he waved like a little kid, looking excited and proud to see them.

“Good thing you came,” I said as Asha waved back.

“Ah, I wouldn’t have missed it,” she said.

Finally there was the field hockey team. Lila came out third, to a good level of applause. A few boys wolf-whistled at her, and a couple more groaned “Lila!” like it was a dirty word. She bowed and lifted her skirt at the hip, just enough to show some thigh. A few more guys shouted “Yeah!” in guttural moans.

Asha rolled her eyes. “Boys,” she said. “They do it to everyone.”

Lila looked up into the bleachers; I waved at her and she spotted me and waved back. Then she noticed Asha and frowned. Great.

“You want to get out of here?” Asha asked. “We can beat the crowd if we leave now. I think Dev’s more than ready to go.” He had already shuffled into the aisle and was motioning for us to hurry up.

“Oh, I think I might need to wait for Lila,” I said. I knew she’d be busy celebrating with her team afterward, but I wasn’t ready to be real, outside-school friends with Asha yet. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her; I did, despite Lila’s disapproval. It just made me clammy, how guileless and
straightforward
she was. She didn’t seem to care that I could reject her. I was much more comfortable with people who made me work for their affection.

Asha considered me. I tried not to flush. “Okay,” she said finally. “See you Monday?”

“See you,” I said. I watched them walk out. Dev turned back to wave and I waved too, feeling even guiltier now that Asha had caught me lying. I told myself I’d make it up to her somehow.

I waited a few minutes after they’d left to get up. When the doors closed behind me, it was like I’d plugged a hole; the noise and confusion was safely encapsulated on the other side.

“Ugh,” I said aloud.

“I know what you mean,” someone said, and I jumped. It was Ms. Anders, my trigonometry teacher. “Sorry, Charlotte,” she said. “I didn’t think anyone would be out here.”

“Oh, I—I didn’t think I needed to stay—”

“Oh, no, no, no,” she said, waving her hand dismissively. “Do what you want. I couldn’t stand these things when I was your age either.”

“Thanks. Um, have a good weekend, then.”

“I’ll walk out with you,” she said. “I need a cigarette anyway.” She fell in line beside me and we walked the few steps to the outer doors. When we got outside, she rummaged in her bag and dug out a crumpled pack of cigarettes. I was about to escape to my dad’s car when she said, “Are you liking trigonometry?”

“Yes,” I said automatically.

She looked up over the cigarette she was lighting. “It’s okay; you don’t have to lie.”

“Well, math’s not my best subject, I guess, but I’m enjoying it so far.” I hated every second of thinking about math, and Ms. Anders still didn’t have control of the class; she was lucky if she made it through a day without someone throwing something or trying to derail her.

She blew out a gray exhaust cloud of smoke. “I’m glad if that’s the case,” she said, clearly not believing me.

There was a silence as she inhaled deeply. I wondered how much longer I had to stand there.

“I don’t think I’m getting through to them,” she said.

“Oh, you are,” I said. “They just act like jerks sometimes.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, of course,” I lied. “It just, like…it just takes a while for some people to settle down.”

“Yeah,” she said. “So you like Tom, huh? Sorry—Mr. Drummond. I’ve seen you two talking.”

“Oh,” I said. I hadn’t realized they knew each other. “Yeah. He’s, uh…yeah.”

She laughed; smoke puffed out of her mouth. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” She gazed up at the building. “You couldn’t pay me to do all this again,” she said after a minute. “I know it must be rough for you. And I guess you can see that not much changes.”

I knew she was trying to be nice, but somehow the fact that she included herself made it worse. I pitied her; I consoled myself sometimes that at least I
wasn’t
her.

“So you’re…you’re here for the whole year?” I asked.

“Oh,” she said. “Yes. Mrs. Morgan isn’t coming back.”

“Okay,” I said. “Good luck, then.”

She gave me a smile; her eyes looked glazed. She stubbed out her cigarette. “I’ll need it,” she said.