Liar Liar (4 page)

We both stopped and stared wide-eyed at each other. Lights shimmered and flashed in the water, making it seem unreal, like in a dream.

He seemed to be just as surprised to see me!

This isn't happening, I thought. He's a total twin. He's even wearing a baggy black swimsuit.

No. No way.

I swam closer.

His eyes grew wider. His expression changed. Now he looked angry. Upset.

Air bubbled from his open mouth.

And then he formed two words with his lips.

What was he saying? I struggled to understand.

Floating in place, I stared harder.

Go away
.

That's what I thought he was saying.

More air bubbles escaped his open mouth, and he formed the words again:

Go away
.

Why was he saying that? Why did he appear so angry?

Who was he? What was he doing here? I wanted to ask a dozen questions.

But my chest felt about to burst again.

I had to get air, had to breathe.

I raised my arms and kicked, and pulled myself up to the surface. Again, I took in breath after breath.

And then I waited for the other boy to surface.

He had to breathe, too—right?

I treaded water and waited, brushing water from my eyes, sweeping back my dark hair with one hand.

Where was he?

He didn't surface.

I swam slowly in his direction, my eyes searching the water.

I did a breast stroke, moving a few inches at a time, ducking my head under the surface, peering into the shimmering, blue light.

No.

No sign of him.

I reached the wall at the deep end, turned and floated back. I dived under, down to the pool floor, then back up to the top.

He was gone. Vanished.

But—how?

Who was he? Why did he look so much like me? Why did he tell me to go away?

Questions, questions.

I climbed out of the pool. Shook myself like a dog trying to get dry. I grabbed my towel and wrapped it around my shoulders.

Cindy and Sharma were still at the edge of the pool. They were laughing and dancing to the music blasting from the pool house.

I ran to them, waving frantically, my bare feet slapping the stone terrace. “Did you see that guy?”

They didn't stop dancing.

“Did you see him? The boy in the pool who looks like me?” I asked.

They ignored me. I guess they were still angry.

“I—I think I have a twin,” I said.

Sharma scowled at me and rolled her eyes. “One of you is enough,” she snapped.

“You really didn't see him?” I asked.

They kept dancing.

I suddenly realized it was getting late. “What time is it?” I asked.

They talked to each other as they danced and pretended I didn't exist.

I ran across the terrace to Max. He was kidding around with three girls from our class.

I slapped him on the back with a wet towel to get his attention.

“Got to run,” I said. “I have to pick Jake up at a friend's house. Awesome party!”

“It's just starting!” he protested.

But I gave him a thumbs-up and took off. I stopped at the hedge and turned back.

Shielding my eyes from the bright lights, I searched for the boy who looked so much like me.

No sign of him.

Cindy and Sharma were laughing hard about something. A boy did a bellyflop into the pool, sending up a high wave that drenched both of them.

I ducked through the crack in the hedge and began to jog across backyards toward my house. I knew I had to get home before Mom returned.

Jake the Snake would never lie for me. He'd love it if Mom got home first so he could tell her I sneaked off to Max's party.

I stopped at the bottom of the driveway and gazed up at the house. “Oh no,” I moaned.

The lights were on in the front rooms. Mom's Jaguar was in the driveway.

No. No. No.

When did she get home? I wondered. Does she know that I'm not there?

Has Jake already squealed on me?

Keeping in the shadows, I made my way around to the side of the house.

The gardener planted a row of olive trees there a few years ago. The trees are short, but one of them is tall enough for me to stand on a branch and reach my bedroom window.

I only use it for emergencies.

And this was definitely an emergency.

If Mom found out that I left Jake by himself and sneaked out to Max's party, I'd be grounded until I was at least sixty years old!

I had to climb through the upstairs window into my bedroom, then walk downstairs as if I had been there all along.

If Jake said I went out, I'd tell Mom he was crazy.

I stopped a few feet from the olive tree. I gazed up at my dark bedroom window.

An easy climb.

No problem.

I reached for the bottom tree limb. Started to hoist myself up.

And two hands wrapped around my waist, grabbed me hard, and pulled me down.

As I fell back, I heard a high-pitched giggle in my ear.

I tumbled to the ground. Spun around quickly. Jumped to my feet.

And stared angrily at Jake.

“What are you doing out here?” I cried. My voice cracked.

That made Jake giggle even harder. His eyes flashed excitedly in the dim light. He loves scaring me. It's a total thrill for him to sneak up behind me and grab me or shout, “Boo!”

“What are you doing outside?” I repeated, grabbing him by the shoulders.

His grin grew wider. “I saw you coming.”

I squeezed his tiny shoulders harder. “When did Mom get home? Does she know I went out?”

“Maybe,” he replied. “Maybe I told her. Or maybe I didn't.”

“Which is it?” I demanded.

“Maybe you have to find out,” he said.

I loosened my grip. I smoothed the front of his T-shirt. “Listen, Jake, help me out here. I—”

The dining room window slid open. Mom poked her head out. “There you are, Rosssss.”

I could tell by the way she hissed my name that she was totally angry.

“Get in here,” she said. “Both of you. Right now.” She slammed the window so hard, the glass panes shook.

She was waiting for us in the kitchen, hands pressed tightly against her waist. “Where were you, Rosssss?”

“Uh … nowhere,” I said.

“You were nowhere?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Jake laughed.

Mom's eyes burned into mine. “You weren't home when I got here. Were you?”

“Well … it's not what you're thinking,” I said. “I mean, I didn't go to Max's party.”

“Yes, you did!” Jake chimed in.

“Then where did you go?” Mom asked. “Why are you wearing a bathing suit? And why is it wet?”

“Uh … you see, Jake was watching a video. And I was so hot … I just went outside to cool off. I took a swim in our pool. Really. I knew I was grounded. So I just hung around the pool.”

Jake laughed.

“Shut up, Jake!” I shouted. I spun away from him. “He just wants to get me in trouble, Mom. I was in the backyard. Really.”

Mom scrunched up her face as she studied me. I could tell she was trying to decide whether or not to believe me.

The phone rang.

Mom punched the button on the speakerphone. “Hello?”

“Oh, hi. Mrs. Arthur?”

I recognized Max's voice. I could hear the party going on in the background.

“Yes, Max. Did you want to speak to Ross?”

“No,” Max replied. “I was just calling to tell him he left his towel and his extra suit at my house.”

I slumped onto a kitchen stool. Caught again.

Mom thanked Max and clicked off the speakerphone. When she turned back to me, she did not have her friendly face on. In fact, she was bright red.

“I'm really worried about you, Ross,” she said in a whisper.

“Huh? Worried?”

“I don't think you know how to tell the truth anymore.”

“Sure, I do,” I said. “I just—”

Mom shook her head. “No. Really, Ross. I don't think you know the difference between the truth and a lie.”

I jumped off the stool. “I can tell the truth!” I protested. “I swear I can. Sometimes I make up things because … because I don't want to get in trouble.”

“Ross, I don't think you can stop making up things,” Mom said softly. “When your father gets back from his shoot, we need to have a family meeting. We need to talk about this problem.”

I stared at the floor. “Okay,” I replied.

And then I suddenly remembered the boy in the pool. And I had to ask.

“Mom, can I ask you a strange question? Do I have a twin?”

She narrowed her eyes at me for a long moment. Then her answer totally shocked me. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, you do.”

I gasped. “Huh?”

Mom nodded. “There's a good twin and a bad twin. You're the bad twin.” She laughed.

“Ha ha,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Good joke, Mom.”

Mom squeezed my shoulder. “Why would I want two of you?”

“I want a twin!” Jake cried. “Then we could both pound Ross!”

“We have more serious problems to talk about,” Mom said, sighing. “Let's drop the twin talk.” She opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. She raised it to her mouth and took a long drink.

“But I saw a kid who looks just like me,” I said. “I mean, exactly like me. He could have been my twin!”

Mom took another drink, then shoved the bottle back into the fridge. “Were you looking in a mirror?”

I rolled my eyes again. “Ha ha. Another good one, Mom. Remind me to laugh later.”

“I'm going to bed,” Mom said. She clicked off the kitchen lights and started out of the room.

“No, wait.” I hurried after her. “I really did see my twin.”

As Mom turned back, she looked troubled and sad. “Ross, what am I going to do with you?” she whispered. “You really can't go two minutes without making up a story.”

I felt my anger rise. I balled my hands into tight fists at my sides. “I'm not making this up,” I screamed. “It's the truth!”

I pushed Jake out of the way and ran up to my room.

I couldn't get to sleep that night. I kept thinking about that boy swimming toward me in Max's pool. I kept picturing the angry expression on his face. I kept seeing him mouth the words
Go away
.

And then he vanished.

And I kept thinking about Cindy and Sharma. How angry they were over a simple mix-up.

Mom's words kept repeating in my mind: “I don't think you know the difference between the truth and a lie.”

That was crazy. Totally wrong.

But how could I prove it to her?

Finally I drifted into a restless sleep. I dreamed that I was running through an endless field of tall grass, being chased by Cindy and Sharma. They were waving their arms furiously, calling to me, shouting their lungs out—but I couldn't hear them. And I couldn't stop running through the tall grass.

I was awakened by voices.

I sat straight up in bed, breathing hard. My pajama shirt clung wetly to my skin.

I glanced at my clock radio. Two o'clock in the morning.

Who was talking at this time of night? I held my breath and listened hard.

The voices came from downstairs. I heard a woman's voice. She was speaking loudly, sharply. But I couldn't make out her words.

Had Dad come home early from his shoot? Were he and Mom talking down there?

I slid out of bed and tiptoed to the hall. Nearly to the stairs, I stopped and listened again.

It was dark downstairs. No lights on in the living room. They must be in the kitchen, I realized.

The woman was talking. It was Mom. I recognized her voice.

I leaned into the stairwell to try to make out her words.

“Are you going crazy or something?”

That's what she said. She didn't sound angry. She sounded worried.

“You don't have a twin,” she said. “No twin. Why would you say such a crazy thing?”