Call Me A Liar [Book 1] (Justin Bieber Love Story / Fan Fiction)

6

"Do we really have to go to the mall with you guys after boxing?" Jack groans from the backseat.

Birdie's birthday is today, but we're having a party at her house on Saturday since her parents will be gone camping with the boys. It's Friday now and we plan on going to the mall after practice with the boys to look for outfits before they leave for the weekend.

Birdie turns around from the seat beside me and says: "I wouldn't be complaining about where we take you after what we're doing for you."

He sighs. "You can't hold this over our heads forever, you know."

"You're right," she shrugs. "But it's fun right now."

"Jack, be nice. It's your sister's birthday," I say from the drivers seat. "You guys can go to the arcade while we're shopping if that makes you feel any better. Then you'll be off on your camping trip, and we'll be out of your hair."

Birdie scoffs. "You're way too nice to them."

I shrug.

Birdie is definitely the bad cop between the two of us, but I think I only play nice because I feel sorry for our little brothers. She, on the other hand, feels such rage and anguish for her parents that she's stuck in this viscous loop of disdain. It's hard for her to process her feelings.

When we get to their practice, the boys run in excitedly as normal with their duffel bags flying behind them. The hot May sun shines brightly down on us, causing me to put my hand over my eyes like a visor. Birdie and I are much slower and casual to walk in, feeling much more comfortable in Linford than we did a week prior.

It still makes me nervous, though I don't tell Birdie. I get a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach and while I don't know if I'm justified, it's still a gut feeling.

We find our normal spot on the very top of the bleachers, our backs resting up against the white painted brick as we both let out an exasperated sigh from our trek up the stairs. The smell of sweat and gym mats is becoming something that's not so repulsive anymore— at least, it's not as repulsive as it was the first time.

To make the time pass by while we wait for Patrick and Jack, we look at some of our favorite stores' websites from our phones to see if we can find any ideas for Birdie's party.

She goes on and on about what she thinks Josh Fogerty will like — the guy she's hooking up with on the side. She's hopeful that whatever dress she chooses, it'll get him to forget about how her parents don't approve of him or his "lifestyle," and they'll live happy ever after. Even though we both know that's far from the case.

I tell her to stop thinking about him. I tell her to think about what she thinks she'd feel best in.

"I saw a really cute dress from Express the other day that I could wear on Saturday. It's white with cutouts on the side, kind of tight," Birdie begins scrolling through her phone rapidly.

I nod. "Is it supposed to be warm out?"

"Seventy-four."

Again, I nod. Then, she shows me the dress on her phone and it's exactly as she explained: a tight white dress with cutouts on either side to expose her torso. The neckline is square and the straps are about an inch thick.

"I love that!" I say, taking the phone from her hand. "I think that would be perfect, Birdie."

"You don't think it's too much? Even the cutouts?" she asks, her pink painted index finger touching the screen.

I shake my head. "Not at all. I think it's great. I think—"

Smack! Thud.

Instinctively, my gaze trails upwards at the noise that stops me mid-sentence. After all we're in a gymnasium, so there are plenty of thuds and bumps and bangs. But this one sounded a little different, like a bag of bricks hitting one of the rubber mats.