by Rachel Hruza
If only I could shake the pang of guilt that nagged at me whenever I thought about sitting down to write a paper that wasn’t mine, or of Oliver seeing me with Brendan. When I went to bed that night, I kept picturing his sad brown eyes staring back at me, so close they could have been plastered on the backs of my eyelids, and so sad I couldn’t help but let the tears leak out of my own.
CHAPTER 14
The Kiss of Death
Over the weekend, I called Megan to talk about my date. She’d sounded excited on the phone, laughing at my idiotic sprint that had turned into a near Truth-to-truck crash, but when I tried to bring it up again on Monday, as we stood by our locker, she seemed annoyed with having to talk about it.
“Brendan held your hand, you want to be more than friends, and you can’t wait to go on another ‘date.’ I heard you the first time.”
“Sorry,” I said. I tried not to scowl as I stacked my books onto my designated shelf.
“Well,” Megan said, somewhat apologetically, “you didn’t bother to ask me about my weekend.”
“How was it?” I asked, my voice oozing with interest.
“Boring.” She shut the locker and headed to class before I was finished getting my things.
To avoid adding another negative social interaction, I didn’t meet with Oliver that morning. I wasn’t ready to face him. I didn’t know what I’d say to him if I saw him.
At lunch, Brendan approached me while I ate with Megan. I knew he wanted his paper. I also knew I wanted to vomit in utter fear of rejection and future social excommunication. Megan saw him coming, rolled her eyes, and stood up with her tray of half-eaten Salisbury steak.
“See you later,” she said.
As Megan walked away, Brendan grinned out of the corner of his mouth, leaned over my shoulder, and breathed his spectacular voice into my ear.
“Do you have it?”
I didn’t. So I did what any proud American named Truth would do. I lied.
“I put it in Landers’ mailbox this morning,” I said, biting my tongue to keep my face serious.
“Really? Why?” Brendan scowled. “That’s going to look fishy.”
I was hooked instantly, caught up in the web of naughty impulsiveness I had never taken advantage of as a child. I was about to suggest something that I’d never believed I would ever do: skip school. “No, now you can fake a note from your mom, put it in his mailbox with the paper, and we can play hooky for the rest of the day.”
I’d already skipped my meeting with Oliver that day. And I would miss Science, but I knew we had a review over magnetic poles that day, which I could handle reviewing on my own. If I could skip and still stay caught up, was I really missing anything?
I must have sounded convincing, because Brendan ate it up. “Trendon! You’re a dirty genius!” He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed. “I didn’t know you had it in you,” he whispered.
He left the cafeteria to grab a piece of paper and a pen from his locker. When he came back, he handed them to me. “Here. You write the note because you have girlier handwriting than me.”
Why not? I was doomed anyway. As I wrote the note, each cursive letter flowing from my fingers like fluid magic, I thought of how the old Truth would have resolved this honestly; wouldn’t have agreed to write the paper in the first place. Before-Brace Truth probably would never have been asked to write a paper for someone else because she exuded honesty and goodwill.
But the old Truth was boring. She was predictable and simple and she said weird things on her sister’s dates. With my brace on, I knew Isaac Newton was there in the shadows somewhere, pushing on my spine and doing his best to ruin my life. Why wait and prolong the inevitable when I could fall on my own terms?
“Okay, Brendan,” I said, folding the note in half. “Let’s get you to that dentist’s appointment.”
“As long as you don’t pull any teeth,” Brendan said.
I blushed. Then he took my hand.
I was on the dark side of the law—the side I knew a good girl wasn’t supposed to be on—and I didn’t mind it.
We ran out of school when the bell rang and there were too many people flowing up and the down the halls for a roaming teacher to notice us. We jogged down the cement stairs outside, with Brendan chasing after me. It was awkward running in my brace, and I probably looked more like a galloping cow than a graceful gazelle, but I knew we had to hurry so we wouldn’t be seen.
We ran down the sidewalk past nearby houses, hiding behind trees when cars passed by. I could feel my brace rubbing against my hip bones, which would be red and sore later. I knew my butt muscles would hate me later too. But despite this, and despite the giant knot of guilt growing in my stomach from lying to Brendan about his paper, the new version of me told myself, “It’s fine. We’ll deal with that when it comes.”
And I believed me.
“I never thought you’d do this, Truth,” Brendan said.
I felt my conscience-ridden organs jump inside my skin. “Lie?”
“Skip school.”
We slowed our jog, and I changed my gait to a skip, pushing myself off the ground with strength I didn’t realize I had, especially when confined within my detested armor. “I’m an excellent skipper!” I said.
Brendan laughed. “Where should we go?”
I stopped skipping. “I thought you knew.”
“This was your idea, Truth.” His voice started to lose its familiar confidence and control. “You know, my mom is going to pick me up after school. Someone could see me and wonder why I wasn’t there for half the day. Maybe we should go back.”
For some reason, I’d figured Brendan had played hooky before. I had, but only once when I was in first grade and craving the Velveeta cheese I knew we had in the fridge. I’d pretended to be sick, and when my mom left to take Charity to school, I’d snuck down and cut off a gigantic hunk of the processed cheese. After three huge, gluttonous mouthfuls, I actually was sick to my stomach. I had a feeling Brendan wouldn’t think our skipping class together was worth just a piece of pasteurized cheese product.
Suddenly, I felt words coming out of my mouth that I’d never expected. “You could kiss me.”
I knew my face mirrored the surprise on Brendan’s (though I imagine my face wasn’t as wonderful to look at). His eyes widened only for a second, and then he smiled, grabbed my face and pulled it closer to his.
I panicked, feeling like I was going to cry out with jubilation, explode, and blow chunks in his face all at the same time. Instead, I puckered up and wished for the best. I left my eyes open until the last moment, taking in his hair, his oily forehead, and a few dark, clogged pores on his nose. Then our lips touched, and even though I expected my brain to implode or to suddenly vibrate with the electricity of love, it was just kind of blah. His lips were dry, and I wasn’t about to have another person’s tongue in my mouth, no matter how hot I thought he was, so it was pretty quick.
“Is that what we cut class for?” Brendan said, grinning.
I didn’t want to tell him I felt like I’d just kissed Harold, so I smiled back and said, “I guess.”
He took my hand and we walked down the block. Apparently we were far enough away from school for him to feel comfortable walking out in the open. He was quiet for a while and then he looked at me.
“You know, you’re the first girl I’ve ever kissed.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m surprised,” I said.
He furrowed his brow. “Why?”
“Well, every girl in school likes you. You know you’re good-looking.” His brow furrowed with doubt, and I rolled my eyes. “You have to know. Look at the nerds you’re up against.”
“Nerds like you?”
“Yes!” I said.
He laughed when he realized I was serious. “Do you realize how fun these past few months have been for me? I was so embarrassed about not being able to read, but you’ve made it easy.” He stopped walking.
“I’ve read a book, Tru,” he said. “Sure, it was a first grade chapter book, but do you know how long I’ve wanted to say that and actually mean it? I’ve read a book.” His proud expression made my guilt dissolve into a million little pieces. I hadn’t realized I’d actually helped him that much.
“So you like me because I’m teaching you how to read?” I asked, wanting again to hear him say he liked me.
“I like people I can trust,” he said. He looked at me with a smile, his eyes shining from the sunlight overhead.
Oh. My guilt came rushing back. I’d never felt so terrible in all my life. Not even hearing I had scoliosis or that I had to wear a back brace had taken the wind out of my sails like those words leaving Brendan’s mouth did.
“Me too,” I said quietly.
We walked in silence for a while. “Maybe we should go back,” I said finally.
“Now you’re nervous about being caught?”
“I don’t have a note from my mom to excuse me like you do,” I said.
“Oh,” Brendan said.
He clearly hadn’t thought about the fact I would need an excuse too. It made me mad how he could seem so focused on me, and the next moment it was clear he was only thinking about himself.
He nodded his head. “Maybe you’re right. We should head back.”
We headed back toward the school. We walked quicker than before, and Brendan didn’t make an attempt to hold my hand again. I considered reaching for his hand, but my braver side seemed to have shriveled up before it had even had a chance to shine.
By the time on Brendan’s cell phone, we’d been gone about forty minutes. We had five minutes to spare before the next class period, so we hovered outside the side doors until the bell rang. In my heart, I felt like I’d already lost Brendan. Lost the perfect boy of my dreams forever because I hadn’t helped him con his way to a good grade, and then didn’t tell him I hadn’t helped him cheat.
I’d cheated both of us. So I took one more chance. I stood up on my tiptoes, leaned right up to Brendan’s slightly parted lips, and kissed him one more time (only the second time ever!). As far as kisses go on the Best Ever list, it probably wouldn’t make the top billion; however, as far as kissing Brendan went, it was perfect. I pulled away as the bell rang and scampered through the door, leaving him standing on the stoop of the school, a bit stunned.
As I walked as calmly as I could to my locker, I couldn’t quell the beaming grin plastered on my face. I never would have guessed that I, Truth Trendon, member of the scoliosis club since fifth grade and president of Boston brace wear, would have my first kiss at the age of twelve.
If I told them, I knew my parents would act calm but secretly freak out and have a big discussion about me behind my back. But I wasn’t going to tell them. I probably wasn’t going to tell Charity. It didn’t matter. Once Brendan discovered I hadn’t written his paper, he probably wouldn’t come near my lips with a ten-foot pole, let alone talk to me.
“You look happy,” Megan said, as she joined me at our locker.
“I am,” I said.
“What’s the good news, big shoes?” she said, kicking my size nine foot with her size seven one.
“Brendan kissed me,” I said, unable to hold back my excitement. I thought Megan would return my delight, but instead her face fell.
“Oh,” she said. “That’s great.”
“Well, I thought so.”
Megan hugged her books and looked at the floor. “Don’t you think you’re a bit young?”
“Are you serious? I thought you’d be excited. All you talk about is boys—liking them, kissing them, marrying them—what’s wrong with you?” I threw my hands up in the air before shoving them across my chest, in what I hoped was the haughtiest way possible.
“Nothing. Nothing is wrong with me,” Megan said.
She walked away and headed for the bathroom, her head hanging low—an indication she was trying to hide the tears that were just about to exit her eyeballs. Seeing her about to cry not only made my own eyes dampen, but it also confused me beyond belief. It made no sense to me. I would have been happy for her if the roles were reversed. That’s what best friends did; they got excited for each other when good things happened.
I sighed. Whatever was wrong with Megan, I hoped she’d conquer it and be my friend again soon.
“Problems in locker partner land?”
I turned around to see Jenny Henderson smiling at me.
“Kind of.”
I grabbed my books and shut the locker. As I hoisted the books to balance them against my brace, Jenny linked her arm through mine and walked with me down the hallway, as if we were a pair of conjoined twins (with one of us entirely focused on keeping the perfect distance between us, so as not to let the other’s elbow bump against the hard plastic of her brace).
I felt the eyes of my peers watching us; some in envy, others in shock, and others with looks of disdain.
I looked back at all of them with wide-eyed confusion. I couldn’t believe it myself.
“So, did you have fun playing hooky last period?”
I almost dropped my books. “What are you talking about?”
“Brendan should have been in History last period. He wasn’t. Now he’s back. I heard from Megan you didn’t go to Science. Now you’re back. That’s a happy coincidence, don’t you think?”
“The happiest,” I said, mocking her cheerful tone. She pulled her arm away from me as if I had the plague. We were near the English room, where I was headed.
“I think you and Brendan are hiding something,” she said, her voice still pleasant.
I hesitated. Too long. “No,” I said.
“I’ve seen you sneaking off with Brendan after school, and now during school. That’s a lot of time for secrets between a dating couple.”
“You are off your rocker,” I said. “We’re just friends.”
“And you’re a liar,” Jenny said, her voice suddenly curt and harsh.
I flinched. She didn’t realize how much that statement actually cut me to the core.
“Whatever. I’ll pass on a ticket for the crazy train. You’ve obviously taken up all of the seats.”
I started to walk through the doorway of the English room, when Jenny called after me, “Oh, and Coach said you can leave the football pads alone. He knows you’ve been sneaking into the storage room to smell them.”
The entire classroom broke into laughter. I didn’t mind holding the class’ attention when I was trying to make a point about literature or answering a question about grammar, but when they were laughing at me, exposed at the front of the classroom and feeling like they could see me naked—or worse, see my brace under my shirt—I immediately upped my verbal retaliation game.
“Oh, thanks, Jen. By the way, he told me you can stop trying on all the jockstraps. They’re never going to fit you.”
The class erupted again, and I grimaced as a shadow loomed over me.
“Do you need to be excused, Miss Trendon?” Mrs. Pike asked, her usually happy and kind voice toned down to serious concern.
“No, I do not.”
I stomped to my table and set my books down. Mrs. Pike said something to Jenny as the bell rang, and then she shut the door. “Enough about football. Sweaty pads and jockstraps are far from what we’re talking about today.”
There were a few more snickers from the class, and Mrs. Pike even grinned. “First of all, I mentioned a few days ago we would be selecting two students to speak at the next junior high assembly next month. We have now chosen the two students: one for academic excellence and the other for excelling in extracurricular activities. The committee was composed of teachers from all over the school, as well as Ms. Eastin. I’m proud and happy to announce that one of the students is among us in this class.”
If Mrs. Pike hadn’t been staring at me, I wouldn’t have suddenly felt nervous. I’d already started sweating from my run-in with Jenny.
“Let’s congratulate Truth Trendon!�
� Mrs. Pike said. She began to clap, and the rest of the class followed suit. “The committee wanted to honor Truth’s outstanding success in her classes and in Band, and we’re looking forward to an entertaining and informative presentation.”
I bit my lip and turned red with embarrassment; I knew how boring assemblies always were, and I didn’t want to be part of a monotonous afternoon everyone would hate and complain about for days afterward.
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Megan, who had her hands under her desk, hidden from Mrs. Pike. I could see she wasn’t clapping. The former alliance of Megan and Truth, best friends for eternity, would have made it possible for her to read my mind—Mrs. Pike would be so disappointed to know you’re not clapping—but we were no longer comrades. I focused back on Mrs. Pike.
“Many of you were qualified to speak at the assembly,” she said, “so don’t feel as if you’ve been overlooked or forgotten. I’m proud of all of you.”
“You are really good at the trumpet, Truth,” said Eric Maloney, a trombone player.
“Thanks!” I said. “Apparently I’m also good at smelling football pads. So I’ll try to work some aromatic scent descriptions into my presentation.”
The class laughed. Even Megan smiled, her gaze focused on Mrs. Pike.
“Strange,” said Mrs. Pike.
“Who’s the other one?” asked Rebecca Kaplan, who was every teacher’s pet and had probably been vying for the chance to speak at a presentation about how awesome she was since she popped out of the womb.
“Brendan Matthews,” answered Mrs. Pike.
I was shocked—he’d already been caught cheating once this year! But heads nodded in agreement around the room. He excelled at sports. As far as extracurricular activities went, Brendan was clearly a good choice. I knew he’d give a great presentation, but I felt like the teachers weren’t doing their job. The guy hadn’t been able to read more than a few simple words before this year, and now he was reading at a first grade level. That was excellence?
