The Truth Behind The Lies

• Chapter One •

"Presley, Jamie."
As my name reverberates through the speakers and brings the hall to a united silence, I can't help but feel proud of myself. I had done it. All the hard work had finally paid off. A first class degree in Psychology to my name, this was truly the beginning of the rest of my life.

The thought of all the opportunities and experiences ahead of me, excite me, for there is an entire world out there, waiting for me. As I'm lost in thought, an elbow nudges my ribs and brings me into reality.

"Jamie, go it's your turn," whispers Ken, my best friend, with a look of irritation and embarrassment on her face. I look around and notice that a lot of the faces are turned towards me, looking expectant. I realise that it's my turn to go up on stage and receive my certificate of completion of my undergraduate degree. With a look of embarrassment, I stand up, fix my graduation gown, straighten my hat and make my way towards the stage.

As I'm walking, I instantly regret my choice of shoes, a pair of Louboutin heels. Well, they aren't really mine, they belong to my mother, who insisted on me wearing heels to the ceremony, as I did not own a single pair.

I was more of a Converse type of girl, comfortable and stylish. I think my lack of femininity always irritated my mother, as she was the complete opposite of me. She always presented herself with the perfectly fitted dress, matching pair of heels and jewellery, with her hair always immaculately tied back, and her nails well manicured. I always admired this about my mother, she always managed to look outstanding without an effort.

I make my way towards the stairs leading up to the stage. I fumble with my fitted black dress and try and pull it down as I feel it's revealing way too much of my legs than is necessary. My mother's voice instantly shoots up into my head, "don't be silly Jamie, you look fabulous, you ought to dress like this more often and throw those darn slacks away." This was a constant with my mother, she's always hinted at me to get rid of all my clothes and let her buy me a whole new girlier wardrobe. Yeah, right, like I'd ever let that happen.

As I reach the last step and focus on not tripping in my heels, I look down and spot my parents in the audience, beaming up at me. My mother reaches into her bag and takes out a tissue to dab at her eyes. Oh for God sake, I told her not to cry and get all emotional, as she always does. But, as I look down at them and see the happiness and joy radiating from their faces, I can't help but reflect the same sense of contentment, I had really done my parents proud. All the hard work they had ever put into my education had paid off. The money they had poured into my private education, the private tutors, the amount of personal time they had given up to help me with my work, none of it had gone in vain. Before I mirror my mother in becoming emotional, I return my focus to the stage ahead of me.

The sound of my heels against the wooden flooring of the stage, fills the hall. I reach the Chancellor of the university, who offers his hand and congratulates me. I shake his hand and as customary, we both pose for the camera, which clicks away several times, blinding us with the flash. I secretly hope these pictures don't make it to the university website. I've always been aware that I'm not very photo genetic, but that's okay, I've never been fond of taking pictures. The Chancellor hands me the certificate and without warning, the hall erupts into a deafening applause. I catch a glimpse of my parents who are out of their seats, clapping and whistling, I even notice my dad turning to the people next to him, announcing that I'm his daughter. As I try to figure out whether to be embarrassed or proud that I have enthusiastic parents, I reach the other end of the stage and wait for Ken to receive her certificate, as promised.

As I wait in silence, with my folder containing my certificate in hand, the next graduate walks past me. As he does so, he taps me on the shoulder, "hey, you've dropped something." I look down to where the boy is pointing, there's a piece of paper lying on the floor.
"Oh no, that's not mine," I assure him.
"I just saw it fall out of your folder." The boy rushes off as his parents call him, to embrace him and congratulate him, I assume. I reach down and retrieve the piece of paper. As I do so, I hear Ken's name being announced on the microphone, she should be here soon. I turn the piece of paper around, written in bold print, is a message, a message addressed to me:

IT IS TIME YOU KNEW THE TRUTH, JAMIE.