The Theory of Truth

The Popular Clique

Well considering the fact that you haven't put this book down yet, I will not warn you again- madness cannot be helped or saved. But don't get too excited, because I can guarantee you that it isn't as easy to detect my lies, since you already failed the first level. This challenge requires observation, which you have not availed yourself on this skill. Confused? Forgive my impudence, seeing that you haven't noticed my name isn't Sarah, it's Rosalie. Allow me to introduce myself to you.

I'm Rosalie, a freshman in Griffin Junior High. If I said that being dishonest was a piece of cake, I'd wouldn't be lying. This time, I'm telling the truth- believe me. You see, authors write novels about young naive children that kick a ball to their neighbor's window, then they start spinning a web of lies to cover up. Next, when their parents put on their angry' mask, somehow these children can simply get over the lying habit. But in the real world, you can't stop. Lying is like an addiction, it gives you the satisfaction of hiding your emotions. It's almost like designing another you that you feel confident in. If you ever wonder how and when I started lying? Well this is a story I'm never sick of.

That day was an ordinary school morning, or so I thought it would be. Me being 7 years old, I wore socks that didn't match, vibrant clothing, and of course my hair in pigtails. When I left my apartment, I gamboled towards school happily, contented from my blueberry pancakes, but was unfortunately stopped by the popular clique. They are the people you do not want to mess with, even when you're only in third grade.

The first girl was Jaden. She was the 'follower'. Jaden agrees with anything you say, but only if you're part of the populars. Next, there was Jasmine. One of history's most annoying girly girl ever. EVER. Trust me on this. And finally, last but not least, Brooke. Even from third grade, she already was the queen bee. Poised yet bossy, she ruled kindergarten. Actually, she hadn't stopped yet. Griffin Junior High's queen bee is surprise surprise... Brooke.

"Hey stinkhead! How's your life with no dad?" I had just recently got over denial that my dad- the famous Anthony Gardner- was dead in a car accident. When she told me that, my heart was pumping at 100 mph. So obviously, I lied.

"Well of course, he-" I put quotation marks near my head, "died. Like totally. The only reason why the newspaper said that was because he wants to have a private life. But seeing as it takes a few brain cells, to know that- I wouldn't expect you to know that." I smiled triumphantly, proud of defending my dad. This perhaps was not downright lying, but it was sarcasm at the least.

"Oh yeah? Well what's this then?" Brooke pulls out a newspaper with the headlines UNTIMELY DEATH OF ANTHONY GARDNER. I could've gone on to snatch the newspaper from her hands, I could've fought her. But I didn't fight, I chose the silent, smart and sly way. As they say "Revenge is best served cold".

"This- if you haven't noticed, is the Daily Tattler. Do you know what tattler means? No you don't. It means a person who engages in gossip or rumours. So is this source reliable? No. Go do an OPVL on it."

Yes, I know I'm only in third grade. But I study 7th grade academic material, because of my natural talents.

One of Brooke's minions said "O- Daily tattler P- um... V- what is that? L-the limitation is that it's in black and white so it's not pretty." Jaden shifted her gaze between Brooke and I in slight concern and answered before throwing her hair to her shoulder.

Brooke sent Jaden the stink eye and the corners of her mouth turned into a wry grin. "Then why would your mom dress yourself in clothes from h&m? That was so last year." The blondie batted her eyelashes and turned to her minions, who nodded their heads vigorously.

"Well I guess I'm sorry that my mom doesn't like to show off her diamond rings and gold bracelets, unlike someone..." I retorted and before I knew, I was spinning a web of lies like I knew them from the back of my hand.