Truth

The News

They found his mangled body this morning lying among the wild flowers and weeds on a road mostly traveled by clanking, rusting tractors on the outskirts of town. I was pretty sure he died last night, but seeing the yellow police tape on the news in the morning confirmed my fears.

"...it looks as if he was the victim of a hit and run late last night," squawks an overly chipper news anchor, "We'll continue to keep you updated as we know more. Now, to Stephanie Winters for the weather."

The screen shifts to a brunette who is smiling so hard her glum eyes are essentially slits above her chubby cheeks. Mom turns down the tv and shifts in her over stuffed recliner in order to get my attention. Slowly I look up from my shoes already agonizing about the conversation topic I know she's going to pick.

"You got in a little late last night, have anything to say for yourself?" Mom always speaks clearly and looks you right in the eyes so there's no mistaking what she says to you.

"It won't happen again." Telling Mom that something won't happen again has become a reflex whenever I'm asked if 'I have anything to say for myself'. 

"I'm sure it will," Mom nods as she speaks as if to confirm that what she's saying is fact.

"Sorry," I reply, returning my gaze to my shoes. Mom being mad at me for being "a little late" is the least of my worries.

Feeling slightly triumphant, Mom turns back to the news. "Terrible what happened to that poor man last night," she says referring to the hit and run victim that the squawky news anchor mentioned.

I sit silently biting my lip for a minute before realizing that Mom is staring at me waiting for me to agree.

"Horrible," I stammer, hoping she doesn't notice the panic that's coursing through my body, "I, uh, I should probably leave for school pretty soon." Awkwardly, I lurch from the couch towards the kitchen. 

Just when I think I'm in the clear, I hear her calling my name. "Harper, is everything okay? You look like you're going to be sick, dear."

"I'm okay Mom, just nervous about a big test in one of my classes." I throw the lie over my shoulder and continue walking. When I reach the door to the garage I realize that I've been holding my breath, worried that she would ask more questions. 

Without looking at the dents decorating the passenger side of my well loved, hand me down SUV, I slip into the driver's seat and set off for school.

*****

I spend the majority of the school day avoiding my friends, agonizing over the details of the night before, and counting down the seconds until I can leave. 

Finally the last bell rings, I race out of school before the bell stops ringing and practically fling myself in the driver's seat. I rub my temples in a pathetic attempt to relieve my throbbing head.

"Okay, Harper, pull yourself together before anyone notices you're acting weird," I tell myself trying to calm down.

A voice from the backseat scares me enough that I nearly jump out of the car.

"Oh sweetie, you've always been super weird. I'm sure that like no one noticed, except me, of course."

Two hands emerge from the backseat, gripping the headrests of the passenger and driver's seat, as my best friend's freckled face materializes inches from mine. 

"Shove over," Camilla demands wriggling her way over the console then thudding into the passenger seat. "So," she says trying to catch her breath, "what's your damage?"

"No damage," I snap back.

The look on Camilla's face says, "I don't believe you, but I'm not dumb enough to ask any more questions." Nodding she turns to look out the window.

"I didn't mean to snap," hearing my lame apology, Camilla starts to turn back towards me, clearly waiting for more of an explanation, "I just didn't get much sleep last night." This isn't a complete lie; every time I closed my eyes, images of the night before began to replay in my mind so, I decided to just stay up all night and distract myself.

"Well, I guess I can forgive you," says Camilla as a sly smile crosses her face, "Since we're friends again let me tell you about what happened with Owen in math today..."

As Camilla babbles about Owen, her crush, and the drama of the weekend I tune her out and drive her home. When we get to her house, Camilla promises to text me later about her date with Owen, gathers her things and runs to her house, desperate to use every second until seven to get ready. After a moment, I back out of her driveway and slowly make my way to the sight of the hit and run that was on tv this morning.

When I get there, the only sign that anything horrid happened there the night before is the ugly yellow police tape. I ride past the taped-off square of flowers six times, trying to take in every detail of the scene. Just as I'm about to ride past it for the seventh time, my phone rings startling me so bad that I nearly run off the road and through the police tape. I look down at my phone to see a string of numbers displayed on the screen.

"Hello?"

A crackly voice responds, "I know the truth about last night."

"Excuse me?" I ask knowing I misheard.

"I know the truth about last night," the voice repeats matter of factly, "and I think everyone else should know too."

Before I can think to deny what we both know is true my phone lights up, indicating that the call has been ended.