Half The Lies You Tell Are True: An unsettling, dark psychological thriller.

by C. P. Wilson

  Harry shook his head again. “She was a friend growing up.”

  Jason made a suggestive gesture with his hands. “Oh, aye. A friend, eh?” he made little air quotes with his fingers framing the word ‘friend’.

  Harry laughed.

  “Yeah, man. She was my best friend, actually. From P1 all through school.”

  Jason eyed him, doubt showing once again.

  “Really,” Harry insisted. “But we haven’t seen each other for a long time.” Harry’s eyes unfocused. “Sort of lost each other when we started high school.”

  Jason regarded his friend for several long moments before shrugging.

  “Happens a lot. Loads of folk I spent plenty of time with through primary school, I hardly see anymore. Some I doubt I’d even recognise at all these days.”

  Harry nodded his agreement.

  “Drifted apart, then, eh?” Jason asked, his tone once again light.

  Harry nodded.

  “Nothing to do with James Beath being her boyfriend then?”

  Harry grinned. “Aye… well, there is that,” he admitted.

  Both boys let another moment pass in silence, each exploring their own thoughts. Harry jabbed a thumb at the worktable and the Maths work awaiting their attention. “Shall we get back to it?”

  Jason shook his head.

  “Na. C‘mon we’ll take a break. Mum has pizza in the fridge. Bit of scran and then get back to it fresh?"

  “Good idea,” Harry replied.

  As Jason headed to the door of his bedroom, Harry rose to his feet, considered for a moment then called after his friend.

  “Jason?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for not being a dick about Jenna.”

  Jason’s smile returned. “Oh, I haven’t finished with that yet, mate,” he promised.

  Jutting his chin at the door, Jason added. “C’mon. Food first, then I’ll burst your balls about the gorgeous Jenna.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Stepping from Jason’s street onto Ferry Road, Harry tucked his hands deep into the pockets of his jacket. A burp came loose unexpectedly, causing Harry to wince at the smell of the cheap pizza that had been coming back on him since he’d eaten.

  His and Jason’s Maths task hadn’t fared much better after having eaten. Both the bad pizza and his encounter with Jenna kept returning to trouble him for the remainder of their study session, causing Jason to instruct him to ‘fuck off home and come back when you discover your brain again’.

  Summoning a semi-clear image of her as she’d been in the English class, Harry raked around in his memories, exploring the differences in Jenna since he’d last seen her. Essentially, she was exactly the same girl in an older packaging. Scratching at his chin, Harry considered how he must have seemed to her eyes.

  His hair was a shade darker now than it had been in primary school, flaming brown-red, rather than ginger. He was obviously much taller and had filled out to match his late father’s build almost precisely. For his age, he was a big laddie with not an ounce of fat to his frame.

  Bigger than James Beath.

  Pushing the bitter thought aside, Harry chewed at the inside of his lip as he considered something most likely futile at best, and stupid at worst.

  A golden-tinged memory of himself and Jenna laid on the grass in Inverleith Park floated up. A gorgeous summer day, they’d lain under an oak tree, people-watching and staring out at the castle as the day wafted past them along with the breeze. They’d thrown stones into the lake, played with a couple of dogs and swung idly in the playground chatting about this friend or that.

  Days like those had seemed endless at the time. Now they felt so very far from his world. In some ways, it was like his childhood memories of Jenna belonged to someone else. Missing a place or a time was as much about the absence of who the people had been as it was about the place or the time, or how the world had seemed through childhood eyes at that moment.

  Harry smiled sadly to himself, recognising that his memories of his father often felt the same way to him. Someday he forgot what his dad looked like and had to salvage the shape of his features from an old photo he kept hidden in his room. Certainly, Harry had lost all sense of how his dad had sounded, or smelled, or how he had felt to be nearby. He recalled a comforting feeling when in his father’s company, but couldn’t decide whether it had existed in reality, or he had simply layered his wishes onto the fading memories.

  Fuck it.

  Driven by warm nostalgia and great need, Harry retrieved his phone from his pocket. Selecting WhatsApp, he performed a search, located Jenna and began tying a brief message.

  Brief as it was, he deleted and retyped it several times before settling on a simple truth.

  Harry: Was good to see you today, Jenna.

  His finger hovering for a moment, Harry steeled his nerve and clicked send.

  Staring at the screen, Harry watched three dots dance in rhythm. It took his brain a second to realise that she had seen his message and was typing.

  Heart racing, Harry watched the three pips conga along the screen and then stop. His shoulders sagged. Half a second later a reply beeped through.

  Jenna: Good to see you too… Harry Jardine.

  Joy burst from him in a guffaw he’d have been ashamed of had anyone been around to hear. He could imagine the playful tone to her voice had she spoken his name in that way she always had when they’d been children. A thousand long-forgotten summer days and emotions flashed before his eyes at her use of his full name.

  Jenna: What you saying to it, then?

  Harry grinned and wiped the sweat from his fingertips along the thighs of his jeans.

  Say something cool. Say something cool. The urge chirped at him, and then he recalled whom he was ‘speaking’ to.

  Harry: Just been studying. Maths. 

  Jenna: Oh, God. I know, right? The course is hell this year, eh?

  Harry: It’s a bastard.

  Jenna: 

  Harry: What else are you doing this year?

  Jenna: Biology, Physics, English, RME, Graph Comm, Drama History and Music… You?

  Harry: Maths, English, Biology Chemistry, Technology, Home Economics and Geography.

  The three pips danced jovially for a second.

  Jenna: Home Economics?? :-D

  Harry: Ha! I like cooking.

  Jenna: Yeah… I remember.

  Harry shifted his feet uncomfortably. The reference to how and who they had been with and to each other threatened to collapse the conversation.

  Jenna: I tried childcare. I was horrific at it.

  Harry: Me too. Dropped my fake baby and took a chunk out of its head.

  Jenna: Idiot! :-D

  Harry sighed his relief and took off once more, headed along Ferry Road towards his house. In no rush and engrossed in his phone, Harry took much longer than usual to reach home. Every few steps his phone would deliver a reply or a comment from Jenna. Each hundred metres or so, he would come to a halt to laugh to himself, or compose a reply of his own.

  Separated by years and friendship groups and stubbornness and misunderstanding, they revelled in their online reunion, exchanging stories of places they’d been, people they knew and events they’d enjoyed. Jenna told him how on many occasions she had found herself wishing that Harry had been present to share something she was doing and had found the moment slightly dulled by his absence. Harry assured her that he often felt the same way.

  After ninety minutes had passed, Harry found himself outside his house. Noting that the living room lights were still on, he checked the time on his phone screen and realised that he was half an hour late home.

  Closing his eyes tightly, Harry allowed the plain fact that he was late to settle in his brain. Drew would still be awake, up waiting specifically to punish him for his tardiness. A message pinged through from Jenna. Harry discovered suddenly that he no longer cared that Drew waited for him inside.

  Slipping around the side of
the house, Harry tucked himself between the shed and the garage walls, out of line of sight of any window from his house. Jenna’s message brought fresh worry to him.

  Jenna: Why did we stop being friends?

  He’d been expecting it, whilst hoping they could just act like the lost years had never happened. Searching his mind, Harry sifted through a myriad of excuses that didn’t involve telling her about James and the beatings he had received at her boyfriend’s hands. He hadn’t wanted to tell her what a bastard James was three years ago, and he most certainly didn’t wish to enlighten her now. She either didn’t know what had happened between them, or knew and didn’t care.

  Harry had convinced himself many times in the intervening years that she would discover the nastiness inside James for herself. When that didn’t happen, Harry accepted that either James Beath was a terrific actor, Jenna was blind to him, or he was actually a decent boyfriend to Jenna.

  The latter was a particularly bitter pill.

  Harry sifted through the many justifications he had invented over the years, finally settling for the easiest. The coward’s response.

  Harry: I guess we just began moving in different circles.

  Watching the pips dance for several very long moments, Harry felt his shame and guilt rise.

  Jenna: James told me it was because you didn’t like him. That’s a pretty shitty reason to ignore your best friend.

  Bastard, Harry thought.

  Harry: No. I don’t like him, but it wasn’t because of him. It just happened that way.

  Jenna wasn’t ready to accept his version just yet. Harry had forgotten how tenacious she was, and how well she had known him.

  Jenna: Was it something Drew did? I saw your injuries, Harry. Was that him? Were you embarrassed to tell me, or thought I’d report him?

  Harry felt a lump grow in his chest. It would be so easy to just tell her the truth, easier still to use her suggestion and just blame it on Drew. Harry decided he had been cowardly enough for one night.

  Harry: I just made new friends, Jenna. That’s all. It happens.

  Harry waited for a reply that didn’t come. Sighing, he typed once again.

  Harry: I’m sorry if I hurt you, Jenna. I’ve really enjoyed chatting tonight. I’d like to chat more another day, if that’s okay?

  Jenna: Yeah. But let’s keep it online for now. I don’t trust you again yet, Harry Jardine.

  Harry smiled at his name. She was angry, but she was glad they were speaking.

  Harry: Thanks, Jenna. Message you tomorrow?

  Jenna: Sure.

  Harry stared at the broken screen of his phone until raindrops began pattering its surface. Tucking the phone into his pocket, he breathed deeply and headed into this house to accept whatever punishment Drew had lined up for him.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Seated at the dining table in his living room, Harry flicked through the book allocated for an English essay laid on the table in front of him. Trainspotting. There were worse books on the curriculum, but Harry simply didn’t feel like struggling with the Scots prose that day. Not really absorbing the words, Harry trusted that he was getting the gist of the story if not the finer detail as he skimmed every other line, mostly the dialogue.

  Allowing his mind to wander, Harry summoned from memory the last evening’s WhatsApp conversation with Jenna.

  A simple ten-minute exchange, discussing the latest episode of Santa Clarita Diet on Netflix. Jenna was loving the series, Harry liked it, but found entertainment in poking fun at its ridiculous moments and seeing Jenna defend them.

  Several weeks had passed since their first tentative messages. Whilst they hadn’t spoken to each other in school yet, Harry felt that the ease with which they’d resumed their friendship, and the comfortable exchanges they had enjoyed virtually were leading them to a place where they could be true friends once again.

  Harry had one eye on the future in a way he hadn’t for a long time. Most notably, he eyed the nearing date when James Beath would leave school to go to university. Hoping that perhaps he and Jenna might feel freer to redevelop their friendship with Beath’s daily presence removed.

  Jenna hadn’t suggested meeting up, but he could tell that their friendship was slowly repairing and that the day would come when they would fully rebuild their relationship.

  Subconsciously preparing for a new message, Harry reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone. His eyes never leaving the book’s pages, he placed the phone onto the table, the motion causing its screen to light up at the exact moment Drew walked past.

  “Supposed tae be doing homework!”

  A meaty hand thumped the back of Harry’s head, where it met his neck, sending a shock down his spine. Despite the jolt of the blow, Harry found himself instantly on his feet, glaring down at Drew. His step-father scowled up at him before placing a hand on his chest.

  Several seconds passed before Harry realised that Drew had tried to shove him aside and couldn’t. Harry hadn’t pushed back, or even offered any great resistance: he had simply stood still. Realisation that Drew was no longer able to shove him easily aside dawned on him, bringing a lop-sided grin to Harry’s face.

  Locking his eyes on his step-father, Harry leaned towards him. Applying only a small amount of pressure, he demonstrated to his step-father wordlessly that he would no longer accede to his physical abuse.

  Drew’s face reddened. Harry watched his step-father rein in his anger, noting with satisfaction a momentary flash of fear on the older man’s face.

  Harry liked that, he liked it a lot. Leaning closer still, he brought his face near to Drew’s, again swelling with gratification as Drew backed away minutely.

  “I’m busy, Drew,” he informed him, before turning back to this book. Showing his step-father his back and his disdain, he ignored Drew, returning to his task. A rolling storm, Drew stood stewing, or trying to reorder his world for several seconds, Harry didn’t care which, before striding from the room.

  Hearing his footsteps retreat and the door slam behind Drew, Harry leaned back into his seat and simply smiled to himself darkly.

  ∞∞∞

  Harry spat into the sink and locked eyes with himself in the bathroom mirror as he looked up to replace his toothbrush in the cup by the sink. Noting the presence of something long absent in his expression, he moved his head closer to the mirror to examine himself.

  Casting his gaze over his face, he noted clear eyes, a tilt to his head, and a naturally-present half-smile he had habitually worn as a child but which had been absent for several years. A determination he thought he had lost forever also resided in his eyes and posture. Casting his mind back to earlier in the day, he smiled broadly at his reflection as the realisation and the sensation of being physically able to repel Drew came back to warm him.

  Jenna, he thought. Jenna had always made him feel capable of anything. It was good, he decided, that she was back in his life.

  “Lights off and bed.” Drew’s voice, less blunt than was customary, came through the closed door. Normally Harry would mutter an apology, quickly finish and head straight to bed, normally receiving a scowl from Drew as he passed him.

  Deciding that his teeth needed extra care tonight, Harry lifted his dental floss and tore himself a length free.

  “In a minute,” he growled his reply. He could almost hear the sound of Drew’s teeth grinding from the hallway.

  Harry took another twenty-five minutes completing his ablutions before emerging from the bathroom square-shouldered to discover that Drew had gone to bed rather than wait for him. With a light step he continued to his room, finding the screen of his phone lit at his bedside as he closed the door behind him.

  Narrowing his eyes, Harry noted the unfamiliar blue banner of Facebook Messenger on the screen, with Jenna’s name displayed. Retrieving his phone, Harry slid the message open.

  Jenna: My WhatsApp has gone wonky. Can we use Messenger instead?

  Harry: Sure. How was your day?
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  Jenna: Alright, I suppose.

  Harry: What’s up?

  Jenna: Nothing. I just think we should back off a bit.

  Harry read and re-read the message several times. Blinking dumbly, he shook his head, as though dispelling what he saw on the screen.

  Harry: I don’t understand, Jenna. Has something happened? Is James being difficult or something.

  Jenna: It’s fuck all to do with James, just back off, you’re too needy!

  Harry stared at the words in front of him for so long his eyes began to water. Refusing to accept that Jenna was truly upset with him, he typed out a reply.

  Harry: Look, whatever is bothering you, we can talk about it, same as always.

  Jenna: I don’t want to talk to you, Harry. I’ve had enough of your pish.

  Harry sat on his bed, his phone lax in his hands, staring into the middle-distance. Switching back to his WhatsApp he scrolled through their previous conversations, searching for something he may have said that she could have taken the wrong way and become annoyed by. It was so unlike Jenna to be so cruelly blunt. Confirming that he hadn’t typed anything that would come close to upsetting his friend to this degree, Harry concluded that something must have happened at school or at home, and she was lashing out, unfairly, and that he wouldn’t take it personally. He flipped back to the Messenger app.