The Thing About the Truth (12 page)

Does anyone say “far out” anymore? I don’t have time to think about it because Chloe’s attention is already back on me. “So what happened between you and this kid? What was his name?”

“Rex.” My mouth goes dry just when I say it. Suddenly I’m back there, in the lab, the day I found out. The day I went crazy. I inhale the scent of the chemicals and the paint and the glass. I push the image out of my mind. “And there was nothing scandalous about it,” I lie. “So you guys can stop looking at me like that. I just really liked him and then he broke up with me.”

“Why?” Isaac wants to know.

“Why did I really like him?”

“No.” He rolls his eyes. “Why did he break up with you?”

“He just wasn’t into it anymore,” I say. “He wanted to date other people.” It’s not exactly the truth. Rex did want to date other people. But he started doing that before he broke up with me. Hence my meltdown.

“So how’d you get over it?” Chloe asks.

“Normal stuff.” I shrug. “Time. Ice cream. Cheesy romance movies.” Lie, lie, lie.

Chloe looks disappointed. I would be too, if I were her. Obviously, the only reason she sought me out and asked me all these questions is because she was hoping I’d have some kind of secret, miracle heartbreak cure. She should have realized that if I did, I certainly wouldn’t be sitting in school. I’d be off writing a book about it and getting rich.

The bell rings then, signaling the beginning of homeroom. I breathe a sigh of relief, glad my time in the hot seat is over. I start to gather up my stuff.

“So do you want to have our first meeting next Wednesday?” Isaac asks. “I could make posters. I mean, if you’ve rethought that whole advertising thing?” He grins.

“Wednesday?”

“Yeah.”

“And you’re going to make posters?”

“Yeah.”

I think about it. I’m sick of him, but I also still need him.
If he can somehow get his father involved, or even if we can get some kind of media attention because of his involvement, it could be great for me. Just the kind of thing that a good college would think balances out the fact that I got kicked out of my old high school and that I’m not going to a great prep school anymore.

He can help run things, like, in name only. He’ll be a silent partner. I mean, let’s face it, once things get up and running, once we actually have to
do
something, he’s going to disappear. And then I won’t even have to be around him that much.

“You guys are starting a club?” Chloe asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s called Face It Down. You should come.” She nods, but she still looks let down, like she came to me hoping for boy help and all she got was an invitation to an after-school activity. I turn to Isaac. “Wednesday sounds good. And knock yourself out with the posters.”

•  •  •

It might be a little crazy, but I spend all night working on posters myself. I know I put Isaac in charge, but there’s no way I’m going to allow myself to expect that much from him. So I make twenty posters, which is so not easy to do when you’re working with the cheapest markers they had at the drugstore.

But when I walk into the front foyer of school the next morning, struggling to keep the rolled-up posters from spilling out of my bag, there are already posters. Tons of them, flanking all the hallways. Professional-looking. Blue and white.
Crisp, clean. Talking about Face It Down, using words like “community” and “all in this together,” and making it look like the kind of club you’d want to join.

“Awesome, aren’t they?” Isaac asks when he catches me staring at one between second and third period. “I went down to a printing shop and spent a long time going over exactly what we wanted.”

“That’s great,” I say. “Um, how much were they? I should pay half—”

“Don’t worry about it.” He waves me off. “I put it on my dad’s tab. He was thrilled.”

He squeezes my shoulder before turning around and heading down the hall. I feel my stomach fill with butterflies and my heart start to race at his touch. Stop, I tell myself, you are
not
going to start liking Isaac Brandano. So what if he made amazing posters? That doesn’t erase the fact that he’s completely self-centered. And besides, let’s see if anyone’s even going to come. Feeling determined, I head to my locker, forcing Isaac out of my mind.

•  •  •

On Wednesday, twenty kids show up to our meeting. Including Chloe.

Isaac

“It sounds like everything was off to a great start,” Dr. Ostrander is saying. He’s leaning back in his chair, looking like he really is interested in the story.

I don’t blame him. Kelsey’s a great storyteller. That’s one of the things I always loved about her. Most chicks cannot tell a good story. They either start blabbing away, adding all kinds of details that you don’t need, or they tell some story that no one gives a shit about, usually involving some other girl stealing their thunder.

Marina’s a perfect example of this. So is my mom. I love my mom, but her stories are very long, very involved, and very boring. I think that might be why her and my dad don’t
have the greatest relationship. He can’t stand to listen to her. I always vowed that the girl I ended up with would have to be able to tell a great story. And Kelsey can.

But now I’m thinking that wanting to end up with a great storyteller might have been a bad idea. Because girls who can tell great stories are also great liars.

“It
was
off to a great start,” I pipe up. Until this point I’ve been silent, deciding I was going to do the brooding, unhappy thing and hopefully show that I don’t give a shit about Kelsey or this ridiculous meeting. But she’s doing so well that I’m afraid she’s going to talk her way out of the whole thing. “The problem is, everything was built on a lie.”

“A lie?” Dr. Ostrander looks confused, and Kelsey looks panicked.

“Yeah,” I say. “A lie about Rex Gray.”

Dr. Ostrander looks down at the police report in front of him. “Rex Gray,” he says. “He was the student from Concordia Prep? The one who was taken away in an ambulance?”

I roll my eyes. “He wasn’t taken away in an ambulance,” I say.

“It says here he was seen by the medical team and taken away in an ambulance.”

“He was looked at by the EMTs, who said he was fine,” I tell him. “But he insisted he get taken to the hospital. They didn’t even put on the sirens.” Rex wanted to cause some big scene; he wanted to be able to tell the press that he was taken away by an ambulance, and it was all Isaac Brandano’s fault. Well, boo hoo. Seriously, what a little bitch.

“Anyway,” Dr. Ostrander says, “it seems that things were going well with the club. So how did everything fall apart?”

“Because of Kelsey,” I say simply.

She looks down at her hands, and for a second I feel my heart break. I hate seeing her upset. But then I remember how she lied to me, and anger flows through my veins. So much anger that I almost can’t take it. It’s so hard and so strong that it comes close to overtaking my whole body.

“Because of Kelsey?” Dr. Ostrander asks.

“Yes,” I say, “because of her lies.”

Isaac

“Hey, can everyone quiet down?” I ask. I’m standing at the front of the room with twenty kids sitting in front of me, trying to get everyone to come to attention. They do. They all quiet down in, like, five seconds, which is pretty surprising. I thought I’d have to stand here for at least a minute or two trying to get everyone to shut up. But everyone’s quiet. And now that they are, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be saying.

I don’t even know why I’m here, honestly. That day when I dropped Kelsey off? I could have just let it be. I could have gotten out of this whole Face It Down Day thing. But that night, in an effort to cool down after what went on with my dad, I found myself driving around by myself. And I couldn’t
stop thinking about her. Not just that night, either. The day after, too. And before I knew it, I was at that ridiculous printing shop, getting a bunch of posters printed up for Face It Down Day. And I was so excited for her to see them the next morning.

The problem is, I’m more excited to make Kelsey happy than I actually am about Face It Down in general. And so when everyone quiets down, I don’t really know what to say.

“Thanks, everyone,” I try. They’re all staring at me, and I’m about to turn the floor over to Kelsey when I spot Marina sitting in the crowd. She gives me a little wave, and it makes me lose my train of thought.

That chick is certifiably out of her fucking tree. It’s to be expected, really, because she’s so hot. All hot chicks are crazy. It’s almost like they’ve been able to get away with being insane because they’re so good-looking. No one cares that they’re completely crazy, because they’re nice to look at.

“Hi,” Kelsey says to the group. She’s wearing a really tight sweater. I have not been able to stop staring at her chest all day. That dude from my homeroom and science class, Marshall Durbin, is here too. And he’s staring at Kelsey’s chest too. Douche. The only reason he’s even here is because Marina is. I’m pretty sure he wants to get into her pants.

Also at the meeting is Chloe, that girl from the cafeteria the other day. The rest are a bunch of kids I don’t know, but they look like the types you’d expect to show up at a meeting like this. Do-gooders.

“I’m Kelsey Romano,” Kelsey says. “And we’re here to talk about Face It Down Day, a day where we can get together with Concordia Prep and try to work on our differences.”

“Aw, man, I hate Concordia Prep,” Marshall says. “They’re all a bunch of stuck-up jerks.” He holds his fist up to the guy next to him and waits for a pound.

“I used to go there,” Kelsey says.

“Oh,” Marshall says. “I didn’t mean you.” He’s talking to her chest. “But their football team really is a bunch of shits.”

“It’s okay,” Kelsey says, “but that’s kind of the point. I mean, you can’t tell just from looking at someone where they go to school or whether or not you should be friends with them.”

I like the way she says it. It’s not corny, the way it could be. I see a lot of the kids nodding, and then we all start throwing out ideas for a letter we can send to the president of the student council at Concordia Prep, so that we can invite a bunch of them to our school and see what happens.

•  •  •

On our way out of the meeting, I tell Kelsey she did great. She really did, too. Totally in control, never letting things get cheesy, and never putting up with shit from anyone while at the same time not being a total control-freak ball buster.

“Thanks,” she says. She looks happy and excited, her cheeks flushed from her success. She shifts her bag on her shoulder. “So I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Yeah,” I say, “see you tomorrow.” I feel like we should go out and get some food, a burger,
something
, because I feel like
we accomplished a lot in there. Even if the only thing I did was lend my name and make some posters. But the moment to invite her has passed, and she’s already walking away. And then I notice that she’s walking toward the row of late buses.

“Hey,” I say, jogging up to her. “You need a ride home?” I’m trying to sound nonchalant, even though I really want her to say yes.

“No thanks,” she says, “I have a ride.”

“The bus?”

“Yes, the bus. What’s wrong with the bus?” Then she nods. “Oh, I get it,” she says. “You’re a bus snob.”

“A bus snob?”

“Yeah, one of those people who’s had a car since, like, forever, and so you can’t imagine taking the bus. Or any other kind of public transportation.”

“Not true,” I say. “I am not a snob about buses. I love buses. Especially late buses.” I’ve never ridden the late bus, and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be a fan, but whatever.

“Really?” We’re in front of the bus now and she turns around and looks at me. “How old were you when you got your car?”

I think about lying, but she’s not stupid. “I got it on my sixteenth birthday,” I admit. “Well, technically, I got it the night before. There had been this mix-up on the lot, and so the guy dropped it off at eight at night instead of eight in the morning. My mom was not pleased, she had this whole surprise planned with eggs Benedict and . . .” I stop talking because she’s staring at me, her eyebrows raised incredulously.

“Goodbye, Isaac,” she says, and starts to get on the bus.

“Wait.” I grab her arm. “If you won’t let me drive you home, then I’m going to take the bus with you.”

“
What?
Why?”

“Because I can’t have you going around thinking I’m some kind of transportation snob. It’s not good for our friendship.”

“So we’re friends now?”

Do friends kiss? “Aren’t we?”

She thinks about it. Like, really thinks about it. She looks really cute when she concentrates. “I guess so,” she says. “Except for the fact that you were kind of rude to me the other day.”

“Let me make it up to you,” I tell her.

“How?”