Started With a Lie – Chapter Three

Three weeks.

          “Prove it.”

          Three weeks since the party. Three weeks since my little white lie. Three weeks since I’ve been trying to dodge everyone. Three weeks of misery.

          It’s October now and I’m in homeroom.

          “Okay, class! That’s the end of this lesson,” Mr. Hopkins yells from the front of the class. Everybody starts packing their books up. “Hold on, don’t pack up just yet.”

          Everybody groans.

          “Remember we’re going on a fieldtrip tomorrow,” he continues, “to New York City. We are going to be visiting Times Square and the Statue of Liberty to learn about the history of it. Make sure you bring back the permission slips by tomorrow morning or you won’t be coming! Class dismissed.”

          People get up and leave the room. I forgot to give the slip to Mr. Hopkins this morning. I rummage through my bag to find it.

          Candy turns to me from her seat. “We’re going to New York City! Times Square! Can you believe it?”

          I shake my head and smile. Maybe it’s good that this is happening. It could give me some time to take my mind off of… other things. I pass my permission slip to Mr. Hopkins and grab my bag as the bell rings.

          This has been my routine: never get to class too early, and never get out of class too late. People always randomly ask me questions about Lee Richardson. Even adults and teachers I don’t know! Apparently, the entire senior year and some of the underclassmen were at the party— things got spread around fast.

          I’m an idiot, I think as I open my locker and dump all my books in. This never would have happened if I just shut up and stayed out of Karen’s way. She’s always trying to bring me down.

          The hallways are crowded as people get their things to go home. I shove my way through and get to the parking lot. Reaching my Honda, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m just about to open the car door when a flash goes off.

          I shield my eyes from the bright light. Another flash goes off.

          “Stop!” I protest. I blink and regain my vision. A middle-aged man is standing in front of me with an expensive looking camera. I’m confused. “Can I help you?”

          He grins, wrinkles forming near his eyes and mouth. “Hi, I’m Larry Cowell.” He takes my hand and shakes it. “Famous reporter.”

          “Um,” I say. “That’s great?” I pull my hand back and stuff it in my jacket pocket. I slowly inch away from the man. He could be a fake weirdo who takes pictures of teenage girls and then kidnaps them or something. Then he must chop them up and sell the body parts.

          Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating.

          But, I’m still not going to talk to some stranger. I back away but he yells, “Stop!” He puts his hands up in defense. “Hold on. I just want to talk to you about something important, and then I’ll be gone.”

          I slowly nod, urging him to go on. “Yes?”

          “Are you dating Lee Richardson?”

          My knees wobble. No, no, no, I tell myself. This is not happening. No way that the news could’ve gotten this far. Not all the way to the media.

          “Ivory?” the reporter says when I don’t respond.

          “How do you know my name?” I ask, my throat feeling like it’s closing up.

          Before he can answer, Karen shows up out of nowhere. “Oh, Ivory, hi. I told him your name. This reporter is a friend of my dad’s, and I just told him the latest gossip. I mean, who shouldn’t know about you and Lee?”

          So it was her doing.

          I fix my expression quickly—leaving no sign of anxiety. I force a fake smile. “Oh, of course, Karen. I’ll answer some questions for you. No biggie.” I definitely wasn’t going to let Karen get the chance of catching me lying.

          Her eyebrow twitches in anger. The reporter moves her aside and focuses the camera on me. “So, are you dating Lee Richardson?”

          I grin for the camera. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

An hour passes full of questions and photos. I am driving home now. Larry, the reporter, just asked some questions about how we met and how we fell in love.

          I lied, of course.

          And it felt horrible. I pray that he’s not as famous as he says he is. I pray that if he ever publishes that interview, that people won’t read it in his magazine.

          I grip the steering wheel harder as I drive down my street. I get to the driveway of my house and park my car. The air is chilly and the green leaves of summer have turned to orange and red leaves of autumn.

          Maybe Mom could help.

          “Mom, I’m home!” I yell when I open the front door even though I know she’ll be too busy painting to hear me. I pick up some envelopes left by the door by the mailman and bring them inside. Throwing them on the kitchen table, I go check on Mom.

          She’s in her studio working on some waterfall painting.

          I love her studio. It has baby blue paint on all three of the walls. The last wall has Mom’s own paintings of people’s faces, landscapes, and nature. Every color is painted with love and ease.

          I’m jealous of Mom.

          She has a talent. She can draw, paint, and can make ugly things look so beautiful. Everybody has a talent… except me. I can’t draw, or play sports, or cook. Nothing.

          I frown as I think of this.

          “Oh, Ivory!” Mom exclaims when she notices me. “Just on time!” She ushers me over to her painting. Her face has blue flecks of paint as well as her arms and apron. “What do you think?”

          I look at her painting.

          It’s a waterfall that’s hidden deep within the forest by trees. Birds fly in the distance and the sky is a beautiful blue. Small land animals wander around the trees and the wind blows leaves off the trees.

          “It’s beautiful,” I say. It really is.

          Mom smiles. “You think?” She picks up the painting from the easel and puts it down against the wall to let it dry. Mom wipes her hands off a towel nearby and then turns back to me. “So, how was school?”

          “Great!” I lie. I follow her out of her studio and we head into the kitchen. I grab an apple out from the bowl that is placed on the island counter. “School’s just wonderful, Mom.”

          “Really?” she asks, raising her eyebrows. She takes a seat at the island. “What’s really going on, Ivory?”

          There’s a crunch sound when I bite into the apple. I chew slowly. I put the apple down. “Mom,” I start, “is it bad to lie?”

          She looks caught off for a second. “Of course, honey. I taught you this when you were four.” Mom sits back in her chair then suddenly almost jumps out of her chair. “Why? Did you lie about something bad? Like robbing a store?”

          “No!” I exclaim. “You know I wouldn’t do that.” But Mom sighs in relief anyways. “I just told… a small lie.”

          She stares at me. “What kind of lie?”

          “Just a small, er, white lie?” I say. I brace myself.

          Mom looks at me. “Honey, you didn’t do anything harmful to anyone, right? No gossip? You know we can’t deal with that again. You almost got suspended last year—it can’t happen again.”       

          This shuts me up. I obviously can’t tell Mom now.

          “Of course not, Mom!” I chirp. “I just forgot to tell you that instead of getting an A plus in History, I got an A minus.” I laugh it off like a joke. There goes another lie to cover up my other one.

          “Phew,” Mom says, sighing and clutching her heart. “Had me worried for a second.”

          “Yep,” I say. “Nothing to worry about here.” I force a smile. “I’m going to go work on some homework now, okay? Call me out when dinner’s ready.”

          “Of course,” she says.

I hop off the stool, grab my bag, and jog to my room. I throw my backpack on my bed as soon as I reach it. I close my door. Picking up of pillow, I start screaming into it. I’m in a deep mess.

          A piano tune starts playing. My phone.

          I throw my pillow back on my bed and grab my phone out of my pocket. I flip it open. “Hello?”

          “Ivory!” Candy yells. “Ivory! Oh, thank god you’re okay.”

          “Um,” I start, “of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?” A shiver runs down my spine. Something’s wrong.

          She sighs. “You mean you haven’t seen it yet?” I stay quiet. She takes my silence as a no. “It’s everywhere, Ivory. Go on your computer right now! Every source says you’re in a relationship with Lee Richardson.”

          “What!” I scream. I cover my mouth hoping Mom didn’t hear. Immediately, I scurry over piles of dirty clothes on the floor and take a seat at my desk. I fire up my computer.

          “Do you know what happened?” Candy asks over the phone. “How did this information get out? I thought you said only our high school and our town knew.”

          “That’s right,” I say. Then, I pause and think. Larry. The reporter. “Shit. Shit. Shit.”

          “What’s wrong?” she asks.

          “I might’ve, could’ve, maybe slipped it to a reporter.” My computer starts and I immediately get on the search browser and go through the trending topics: Lee Richardson wins over another business. Justin Bieber pregnant? Lee Richardson dating small-town girl? I click the third trending topic.

           “What!” Now, Candy screams. “Why? How?”

          “I’m sorry!” I plead. “Karen was standing right there and I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want her to find out I was lying.” The article opens up on the computer. “Hold on.”

          I read over the article.

Lee Richardson, big time billionaire, dating a small-town girl, Ivory Flores

          Ivory Flores, a girl from small-town Brownwood, New York is supposedly dating Lee Richardson—one of the youngest and most handsome billionaires to live in this world today. How did this happen? Well, fellow reporter Larry Cowell from Teen Gossip had caught up with Ivory just this afternoon. It is said that if they last—they could be bigger than any other famous couple in the world today.

          There’s a picture of me next to the article. My eyes are half closed and I look like a person that’s high. Cameras hate me.

Below the article are the questions I answered for Larry. I groan. I should’ve gotten into my car when I had the chance. This is entirely my fault. If only I didn’t let Karen bother me so much.

          “Hello?” Candy says from the other line. “You still there? Did you read the articles?”

          “Yes,” I sigh.

          “It’s already number three for most trending topics! Imagine it by tomorrow morning. You’re going to be famous, Ivory!” Candy exclaims like it’s a good thing. “You’ll be the next big thing.”

          I groan even more. “This is horrible. How do I fix this?”

          “How will Lee react?” Candy suddenly says. “I mean, he is famous and everything. He probably catches up to recent gossip. What if he gets mad and ships you off to Siberia? Where you’ll freeze to death with tigers?” She continues to ramble.

           “Listen,” I interrupt, “I got to go. I need to read more of the articles. I’ll see you tomorrow for the fieldtrip, okay?”

          “Okay,” Candy chirps. “I’m here if you need me.”

          I smile. “Thanks.” I put the phone down after hanging up and search similar articles. I scan them quickly and even read the comments. Most comments are saying how people are surprised.

          Others are rage and hate comments.

          I read over comments saying why he’d date an ugly girl like me when he could have anyone he wanted. I read how this must all be a scam for publicity. I read them all.

          I prop my elbows on the desk and put my head between my hands. I close my eyes.

          I never meant things to get this far, I say over and over in my mind. I stay like this for a couple of minutes before my phone’s piano tune rings throughout my room again.

          It must be Candy.

          “What?” I say when I pick it up, my eyes still closed. My head is throbbing from a headache. Nobody’s speaking. I can hear breathing though. “Hello?”

          There’s a cough on the other side. “Hello.” That isn’t Candy, definitely not. It’s a deep, silky voice. The same type of voice that doctors use before they stab you with needles.

          I jolt up. “Hello? Who is this?” I check caller I.D. but it says “Unknown.” 

          “Hello miss,” the person says. “I am Lee Richardson.”

          “Shit,” I say without meaning to.

Another chapter, y'all. 

And, teehee, a cliffhanger. Oh how I love keeping people at the edge of their seats. Anyways, I hoped you liked this. I have school tomorrow. Gah. D':

Probably won't see me for a while. ANYWAYS. VOTE. VOMMENT. COTE. LOVE. FAN. ADD. READ. COMMMENT.

Love, the creator of this stupid story. XOXO, Aury. (: