The Lying Game

Chapter 1

When his phone rang for the seventeenth time that Friday afternoon, Eric Tate released an exasperated sigh and spoke quickly before the caller had chance to utter a single word.

"For the last time, this is not an escort service – I am not an escort. Or a hooker. Whatever you're looking for, you won't get it from me, okay? You have the wrong number."

Eric flicked his iPhone onto silent and dropped it into the pocket of his school trousers, then proceeded to glare at his two companions who were biting back fits of laughter.

"I'm going to murder both of you," he muttered, slicking a hand through a mess of auburn curls, "couldn't have gotten me an Xbox game for my birthday, could you?"

"Sorry, but you gotta admit that this is pretty funny," grinned a baby-faced teen, blue eyes flickering over a professional-looking escort page loaded on Eric's laptop screen – created a few days earlier as an 18th birthday prank. "I'm an adult now," the teen read out loud, muffling a fit of childish giggles with his sleeve, "let me show you what a real man can do."

"Stop, jeez," Eric mumbled, shoving his friend lightly, "just delete it, Jay, alright? There are enough freaks with my number already."

"Hey, hey, some of those freaks could be hot," the third male chimed in, wiggling his dyed-blond eyebrows suggestively, "and freaky. You get me?"

"Yes, Henry, we get you," said Jay, tapping away at the keyboard, "you don't exactly think with your brain. Alright – deleted. No more 'Cute virgin boy willing to provide services for a reasonable fee'."

Henry snickered whilst Eric buried his face in his hands, cringing internally.

"100% totally gone from existence," Jay said with a toothy grin.

"Nothing is ever completely gone from the internet, though," remarked Henry, which Eric rewarded with a dark glare.

"Except for your porn history."

"Except for my porn history, but that's best for everybody."

Jay bit his lip. "You reckon Eric will be showing up in your future porn history?"

Henry shrugged. "I did read that he wants someone to tell him he's 'been a bad, bad boy'."

Eric jumped to his feet and lunged at the two teens, who scattered, laughing. "I will kill you assholes –"

A loud drilling noise cut through Eric's threat and the three boys groaned in unison.

"You know, I think triple maths might beat you to it," said Henry.

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The afternoon dragged – a whole two hours of quadratic equations was about as fun as a trip to the dentist. No – the dentist was more fun. At least Mr. Chander gave Eric a sticker and a lollipop after an appointment. Mrs. Liddle didn't give out stickers for solving x. And she didn't compliment Eric on his excellent oral hygiene, either.

It also dragged because Liddle was old-fashioned and had implemented an alphabetical seating plan on the first day of term. Jay and Henry lucked out and were sat next to each other, but Eric's desk buddy was a short, Welsh kid called Devon, who smelled strongly of pickled onion and stale body odour. Eric wondered if he should bring that up with the school council, after all, their double Mathematics period on Wednesdays was preceded by triple P.E., and Devon had obviously never heard of deodorant. Sitting next to him was basically child cruelty, right?