Two-Faced #2

by Lin Oliver

  I considered everything she said. I thought it made sense, but I couldn’t really tell. My head was spinning, and I felt dizzy. I had always thought I knew right from wrong, but now the line between the two seemed so blurry. I leaned my head against the warm bricks and sighed.

  “Hey, Charles, I do have one question,” Lauren said after a minute. “You didn’t tell Principal Pfeiffer about me, did you? You know, that you gave the test to me.”

  “No, Lauren. I wouldn’t do that. I promised I wouldn’t tell. And a promise between friends is sacred.”

  She leaned over and gave me a big hug.

  “I knew I could always count on you,” she whispered. “Now should we get to class?”

  “You go on,” I said. “I need to be alone for a while. To think things through.”

  “Okay. But really, Charlie, don’t worry so much about it. No one ever has to know what really happened. And besides, we have a lot of friends on the Honor Board. They’ll be on your side. I’ll call later to check up on you.”

  After she left, I managed to pry myself away from the brick wall and make it over to a nearby ledge. I plopped down on that stupid little ledge and pointed my face up to the sun. The heat burned my cheeks, and I felt the muscles in my shoulders start to relax. My body went limp. I closed my eyes and lay there completely still, like a large reptile basking in the sun. I didn’t want to think about anything. I just wanted to go back to the way it was, before my dad lost his job, before my mom left, before we lived at the Sporty Forty, when Sammie and I were just two regular little sixth-graders at Culver City Middle School. Things were so much easier then.

  “You look like a lizard,” someone said to me. “Did you know that lizards smell with their tongues?”

  When I opened my eyes, I saw that it was Will Lee talking to me.

  “Not now, Will. I’m not in the mood for weird lizard facts.”

  “How about weird gecko facts, then? Geckos are actually a subset of the lizard family. Did you know they’re the only lizards that can vocalize?”

  “Can you please go away now?”

  “Are you sick? Do you feel bad? Do you need help?”

  “No, yes, and yes.”

  “So you’re not sick, but you do feel bad, and you do need help.” He scratched his head. “Sounds like you’re having a bad day, emotionally speaking.”

  I opened my eyes and stared at him. What sixth-grade boy talks like that?

  “How old are you?” I asked him.

  “Ten. I skipped third grade.”

  “So tell me, Will, how’d you get to be so smart, emotionally speaking, if you’re only ten?”

  “From Truth Tellers. I listen to everybody. We tell the truth about our lives. Your sister, Sammie, is really good at it. You probably are, too.”

  “Apparently, I stink at telling the truth.”

  “Is that why you’re feeling bad right now?”

  “If you must know, Will, I did something bad to protect a friend. But I promised I’d never tell anyone else about it. And now my lie has grown really big and involved someone I care about. And that’s why I’m feeling bad. Because I can’t tell the truth, and I can’t keep up the lie. I’m stuck. Trapped.”

  “Like a lizard that’s been caught.” He nodded. “Except if they get caught and lose their tails, they can grow new ones. Of course, the new one is shorter than the old one and doesn’t have any bones.”

  “Will, I thought we went over this. No weird lizard facts.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Not your fault. I’m the one who got myself into this mess. And I don’t know the right way to fix it. I don’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore.”

  What was I doing, talking to this very short ten-year-old about my emotional dilemma? I wanted to stop, but I couldn’t. It felt really good to be talking to him.

  “I’m going to Truth Tellers after school,” he said. “Ms. Carew called a special meeting today. You should come. It might make you feel better.”

  “I’m not part of your group, Will.”

  “Anyone can be a Truth Teller,” he answered. “All you have to do is express your true self and listen with your heart. Ms. Carew says those are the only rules. Oh, and you have to be kind.”

  “Well, that leaves me out,” I said with a laugh. “I’m a nasty, hateful person.”

  He scratched his head again. “You seem nice to me. Anyway, if you want to come, we’re in Ms. Carew’s room. By the way, I think you’re very attractive.”

  And then he walked off toward the main building. As I watched him go, I couldn’t believe how my opinion of him had changed from just that short conversation. Two minutes ago, I thought he was an annoying kid with too many lizard facts. Then we talked, with no games and no lies and no trying to be anything other than what we were. Him, a slightly weird ten-year-old. Me, a very sad person who had disappointed herself. And look what happened. I had grown to like the kid, even though he was pretty much a weirdo.

  Maybe there really was something to this Truth Tellers group. Maybe if I went, I could find a way to talk to Sammie, to make her hear me. If I expressed my true self, maybe she could listen with her heart and forgive me. It was worth a try.

  I really can’t tell you what happened the rest of the day. It was a total blur. I spent a lot of time in the girls’ bathroom. I sat in class but didn’t hear a word. I went to the library during lunch and stared at an open book without reading one word. Mostly, I waited for after school to come, hoping that going to Truth Tellers would help me get rid of that horrible knot in my stomach.

  After seventh period, I headed toward Ms. Carew’s room, which was on the first floor, in a room they call the Patio Room because it has a small balcony surrounded by trees and bushes. Sammie had told me that sometimes Truth Tellers met out there.

  I walked quietly down the hall, not wanting my footsteps to disturb the meeting. As I approached Ms. Carew’s room, I heard voices coming from inside. I heard Sammie’s voice and others, too. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it sounded intense.

  I poked my head inside the door and looked around. I was totally unprepared for what I saw.

  Chapter 11

  “You can do it,” a girl with bright green streaks in her hair was saying to Sammie. “Just imagine how good you’ll feel when the truth is out.”

  Sammie was standing in the middle of a circle of kids who were seated around her. She was talking and crying at the same time—real tears this time, the kind that run down your face and into the corners of your mouth. The girl with the green hair was next to her, one arm around her shoulders for support, although how much support someone wearing black fingernail polish can provide is beyond me. Ms. Carew was part of the circle, as were Alicia and Sara and Will Lee and about nine other kids I didn’t know.

  “She didn’t even care that I could get expelled for this,” Sammie burst out, crying as she talked. “Imagine how it feels—my own sister doing the most selfish, mean thing anyone has ever done to me.”

  I stood there in the hall, feeling like someone had punched me in the stomach. I knew she felt that way, but it seemed like such a betrayal to be telling everyone about the incident. These weird kids who didn’t even know me.

  “Sometimes people we love disappoint us,” Ms. Carew said to Sammie. “And because we love them, it hurts all the more.”

  A couple of the kids nodded.

  “My sister always calls me metal mouth,” a girl with braces chimed in. “Especially when I have friends over because she’s jealous that I’m not playing with her.”

  “My sister tells me I’m stupid,” Will said, “because I like art better than math. I know I’m not a brainiac like her, but it makes me mad when she points it out.”

  “You’re very smart, Will,” Sara said. “And
you make beautiful stuff in ceramics. She probably just wishes she was as multitalented as you.”

  “Relationships with brothers and sisters are very complex,” Ms. Carew said. “They require a lot of mutual understanding.”

  “Well, there’s no way I’m going to understand what my sister has done,” Sammie said. “She’s gotten me in big trouble, and for what? To protect Lauren Wadsworth, who wouldn’t know how to be a real friend if she tried.”

  What???? I couldn’t believe my ears! She actually said Lauren’s name. That was my secret, my sworn secret. I had promised never to reveal what happened, and here was Sammie, just blabbing it out to the whole world. A surge of anger rose up inside me like a tidal wave.

  “You can’t do that!” I found myself screaming from the hall.

  Everyone in the circle turned around and stared at me. Sammie seemed surprised but not sorry.

  “This is Truth Tellers,” she said. “Unlike yourself, we don’t tell lies in here.”

  “This is none of your business, Sammie. And certainly none of theirs.”

  Ms. Carew got up from the circle, came over to me, and reached out her hand.

  “Would you like to come in and join us, Charlie? I think it might help.”

  “I promised not to talk about this, Ms. Carew,” I answered. “And Sammie has no right, no right at all to blab about this. If she wants to tell the stupid truth, let her tell it about her own life, not mine.”

  “Come in,” Ms. Carew insisted, taking me by the hand. I wanted to resist but I found myself following her like a little puppy. She was wearing a beautiful, colorful top made of African fabric, and she smelled sweet, like an orange mango smoothie. Her hand was soft yet strong. The minute she touched me, I became aware of an overwhelming feeling of exhaustion. I was more tired than I had ever been in my life. I just wanted this all to be over so I could rest.

  As I walked into the room, I was surprised by a chorus of voices welcoming me.

  “Hey, Charlie, welcome to Truth Tellers,” Alicia said.

  “You’re in a safe place,” Sara added.

  “There’s no judgment here,” the girl with the braces said.

  “Sit down in the circle, Charlie,” Ms. Carew said.

  “No, thanks, I’ll stand.”

  “It’s important that you sit so you can join our acceptance circle,” Ms. Carew said. “When you join the circle, you agree that each person here is accepted for exactly who they are. And what we say here stays here. Right, kids?”

  “Our lips are sealed,” Will said, pretending to zip his lips together. He was so mature in so many ways that it was odd to see him doing such a babyish gesture. Everyone else pretended to zip their lips, too, even the girl with the green hair and black fingernails.

  “I’m Etta,” she said. “And you can trust me.”

  “Etta, why don’t you sit back down in the circle,” Ms. Carew said. “Charlie, please join us. And Sammie, come sit next to your sister.”

  “I’d rather sit next to Alicia,” Sammie said.

  “I know you’re hurt, but it’s important that you and Charlie have the courage to talk this out honestly,” Ms. Carew said. “You’re going to look at each other and tell the truth.”

  Sammie sat down cross-legged next to me, but stuffed her sweatshirt in between us so there was no possibility of our legs touching. I recognized that gesture. She used to do it all the time when we were losing a tennis match. Our dad made us talk to each other during breaks to make sure we were communicating. She would always stuff her warm-up suit between us on the bench. I used to think it was because she didn’t want her sweaty leg touching mine, but now I realized it was a way to put up a little wall to protect herself in case I said something critical like “You should come to the net more often” or “You’ve got to get your second serve in.” She hates being criticized. Come to think of it, so do I.

  “How are you feeling, Sammie?” Ms. Carew asked.

  “Angry. Disappointed. Scared.”

  I nodded. I was feeling all the same things.

  “Charlie,” Ms. Carew said, turning to me. “Sammie has told us how she feels about what you’ve done. I’m sure you have many feelings, too. You secret is safe with us. It’s important to tell your sister why you did it. Dig deep, Charlie, and tell the truth.”

  “I don’t know why I did it,” I said. “I just did.”

  “Did you think you were doing something wrong at the time?” Alicia asked.

  “I guess. At first, anyway. But then everyone told me how great it was to help . . .” I paused, reluctant to say her name.

  “Lauren,” Sammie said with a snarky tone in her voice.

  “Right, to help her get through a rough time.”

  Sara Berlin, the girl with the poofy hair, spoke up. I thought everyone there would hate me for putting Sammie in this position. They were her friends. But Sara was surprisingly understanding.

  “Those kids are a tough group to be accepted by,” she said. “I can see why you’d agree to do something stupid to become part of them.”

  My first reaction was to deny what she said. I didn’t think I wanted to be a part of the SF2s that desperately that I’d do anything to be accepted. But someone else spoke up before I had time to object. It was Alicia.

  “When I first came to America,” she said, “I was so afraid of all the kids around me. I didn’t look like them, I didn’t speak their language, and they all seemed so rich. Back home in El Salvador, we didn’t ride in fancy cars or wear different clothes to school every day. I felt like such an outsider.”

  An outsider. That was an interesting word to use. It’s the way Sammie and I felt just a month ago when we arrived at the Sporty Forty and transferred to Beachside. We spoke the same language as everyone else, but we weren’t like them. Funny, just like Alicia, those kids seemed rich and rode in fancy cars and wore different clothes to school every day. I wanted to be one of them. I still did.

  “No one wants to be an outsider,” I heard myself agreeing.

  “It’s easy to make bad decisions to be part of a group,” an overweight kid named Devon said. “When I joined the baseball team, everyone shaved their heads as a show of team spirit. I did it, too, but some people are just not meant to shave their heads. I had to walk around looking like a big walnut head for two months.”

  The kids all laughed. And to my surprise, I found myself smiling, too.

  “Looking back on it now,” Etta said to me. “Do you think that’s why you took the test? To be accepted by the group?”

  “I’m sure that was part of it,” I said, hating to admit the truth, but knowing I had to. “But also, I really thought I was helping out my best friend.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong,” Sammie said. “She’s not your best friend.”

  “How do you know that?” I asked her. “I like Lauren. She’s sweet to me. And she likes me. Why are you always on her case?”

  Sammie didn’t answer.

  “Sammie?” Ms. Carew answered. “Your sister asked you a question. She deserves an honest answer.”

  “I’m entitled not to like her,” Sammie said. “It’s a free country.”

  “There has to be a reason you don’t like her,” Will said. “I think she’s a very attractive girl.” Everyone laughed, even Will. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “You’re ten, dude,” Sara said to him.

  “Sammie, we’re waiting for an answer,” Ms. Carew said when the laughter had died down. I saw that freckle on Sammie’s forehead moving down toward her nose. Obviously, she didn’t like what she was thinking.

  “It takes courage to tell the truth,” Etta said to her. “Lay it on us, sister.”

  “Lauren’s just so pretty,” Sammie said finally. Her voice sounded like the words were stuck in her throat
and didn’t want to come out. “She’s always perfect. Every time I’m around her, I feel fat.”

  “I can relate,” Devon said. “Feeling fat sucks.”

  “That’s an honest and brave statement you made, Sammie,” Ms. Carew said. “Is that all you feel about Lauren?”

  “Well, there is one other thing, but I don’t know if it’s important.”

  “All our feelings are important.”

  Sammie seemed to be struggling with what she wanted to say. “I feel kind of . . . sort of . . . I hate to admit it . . . but okay, here it is . . . I’m jealous of her.”

  “Because she’s so attractive?” Will asked.

  “You’re not helping, Will,” Alicia said. “Let her talk.”

  Sammie took a deep breath and looked up at me. There were tears in her eyes.

  “Mostly, I’m jealous because she’s your best friend. And I always thought I was your best friend.”

  The tears were out of her eyes now, rolling down her face. She didn’t sound angry anymore, just sad.

  “That’s how I felt when you became best friends with Alicia,” I said. “I was hurt and jealous and confused. I couldn’t understand why you’d pick her over me and my friends.”

  And then there were tears in my eyes, too, and on my face.

  “We’ve always been so identical,” she said. “And now we’re different. I miss the old way.”

  “People grow up and become themselves,” Ms. Carew said. “But that doesn’t mean you have to lose each other. You just have to accept each other for who you are and respect your differences.”

  “Yeah,” Will piped up. “That’s why we’re sitting in this acceptance circle.”

  I looked at Sammie sitting here with all her new friends. They weren’t like my new friends, that’s for sure. But they were nice and kind, and they cared about her. They even cared about me.