Started With a Lie

Chapter Three

Started With a Lie – Chapter Three

Three weeks.

          “Prove it.”

          Three weeks since the party. Three weeks since my little white lie. Three weeks since I’ve been trying to dodge everyone. Three weeks of misery.

          It’s October now and I’m in homeroom.

          “Okay, class! That’s the end of this lesson,” Mr. Hopkins yells from the front of the class. Everybody starts packing their books up. “Hold on, don’t pack up just yet.”

          Everybody groans.

          “Remember we’re going on a fieldtrip tomorrow,” he continues, “to New York City. We are going to be visiting Times Square and the Statue of Liberty to learn about the history of it. Make sure you bring back the permission slips by tomorrow morning or you won’t be coming! Class dismissed.”

          People get up and leave the room. I forgot to give the slip to Mr. Hopkins this morning. I rummage through my bag to find it.

          Candy turns to me from her seat. “We’re going to New York City! Times Square! Can you believe it?”

          I shake my head and smile. Maybe it’s good that this is happening. It could give me some time to take my mind off of… other things. I pass my permission slip to Mr. Hopkins and grab my bag as the bell rings.

          This has been my routine: never get to class too early, and never get out of class too late. People always randomly ask me questions about Lee Richardson. Even adults and teachers I don’t know! Apparently, the entire senior year and some of the underclassmen were at the party— things got spread around fast.

          I’m an idiot, I think as I open my locker and dump all my books in. This never would have happened if I just shut up and stayed out of Karen’s way. She’s always trying to bring me down.

          The hallways are crowded as people get their things to go home. I shove my way through and get to the parking lot. Reaching my Honda, I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m just about to open the car door when a flash goes off.

          I shield my eyes from the bright light. Another flash goes off.

          “Stop!” I protest. I blink and regain my vision. A middle-aged man is standing in front of me with an expensive looking camera. I’m confused. “Can I help you?”

          He grins, wrinkles forming near his eyes and mouth. “Hi, I’m Larry Cowell.” He takes my hand and shakes it. “Famous reporter.”

          “Um,” I say. “That’s great?” I pull my hand back and stuff it in my jacket pocket. I slowly inch away from the man. He could be a fake weirdo who takes pictures of teenage girls and then kidnaps them or something. Then he must chop them up and sell the body parts.

          Okay, maybe I’m exaggerating.

          But, I’m still not going to talk to some stranger. I back away but he yells, “Stop!” He puts his hands up in defense. “Hold on. I just want to talk to you about something important, and then I’ll be gone.”

          I slowly nod, urging him to go on. “Yes?”

          “Are you dating Lee Richardson?”

          My knees wobble. No, no, no, I tell myself. This is not happening. No way that the news could’ve gotten this far. Not all the way to the media.