Tell Me Lies

2: World Domination Button

The three of us climb back into the car, an older model Toyota painted a shade of cornflower blue. Flecks of rust overtake the bottom half of it, and peeling stickers cover the back window almost entirely. The car, which Deon has lovingly named Sparrow, (or 'the Lady' when Nadia isn't around) belonged to my uncle, but he let us borrow it for the trip to Ciranne. It isn't like it has much life left in it, anyway. The fan belt squeals every time I turn it on, and braking is a whole ordeal that takes multiple seconds of crossing my fingers and hoping that we don't crash.

"Was that your mom on the phone earlier?" Nadia asks Deon as she takes a bite of her muffin. She wipes away a smudge of chocolate on her cheek with her napkin and delicately folds it into a perfect square.

"Yeah," Deon confirms, without missing a beat. Even though he's lying, and I know that, I have to admit that he sounds convincing. It's something about the way he doesn't flinch when he answers her, like he doesn't have to think about it, because there's nothing to think about. When I first met him, I always thought that Deon was a horrible liar, but I don't think so anymore. What seems more probable is that he pretends to be a bad liar, just to mask the thousands of half-truths he's spun for us. (Not that I blame him.)

"You should have told her where you were going," Nadia says. "You're such a bad spawn. If I had a kid like you..." I wait in earnest as she searches for the right insult to toss in his direction. "I would disown you."

"Harsh," I say.

"Fair," Deon pitches in. He scrapes his inky black hair back with his forefinger in a fruitless attempt to keep it slicked back.

Nadia passes him a water bottle with a flip of her hand. It nearly misses hitting him the face. "Stop touching your hair, you're making it greasy."

"Shut up." He sticks his tongue out at her and keeps fiddling with his hair, inspecting his face in the reflection of the car window.

"You look like someone I'd meet in a dark alleyway," Nadia says.

I keep one hand on the wheel, the other unscrewing my water. Nadia keeps her eyes on me while I do, both eyebrows raised far enough that it almost looks uncanny, as if they're about to detach from the rest of her face. The sun shines behind her, catching the glitter in her makeup. The circular glow douses her face in an angelic light. I look for her in a room like a sunflower seeks the sun. But since I'm trying not to drive into a cliff, I keep my eyes fixed to the road. "What would you know about dark alleyways, Dia?" I tease.

She shakes her head at me. "I've seen them in movies. Plus, I've walked past Nightingale street at home. That area is scary dark, even during the daytime. How does it even stay that dark all day long?"

"Trick," Deon and I say in near unison.

"I think you two are obsessed with him," Nadia replies, pointing a finger at me. "Next thing I know, you're going to tell me that the month-long power outage two years ago was his fault, right?"

"That was the mayor's fault," Deon informs her curtly. He sounds a touch offended, but the glint in his eye gives his pride away. "Why did we re-elect him, again?"

"Who's we?" Nadia asks. She reaches for the case of CDs sitting in front of her, and rifles through them before settling on Imagine Dragons. She's played it twice already today, so I'm starting to wonder if she's trying to send me a subliminal message. "I voted third party."