The Perfect Lie

by Karen Osman

  Damn. There was no way she was going to get there first.

  She checked her watch. She was a few minutes early. She would walk to the nearby shop and pick up some chewing gum. Confident that she wasn’t about to be stood up, she turned left, away from the cinema and towards the crossing at the traffic lights. As she waited for pedestrian signal to turn green, she heard a familiar burst of laughter. Turning, she watched in dismay as she saw Charlotte, Tiffany, Louise, and Vivian walking in the direction of the cinema linking arms. There was another girl with them as well.

  Was that…? No, it couldn’t be.

  Claire squinted. The fifth girl was on the far side but she knew it was Anne by her bouncy walk. It always made her hair jump up on her shoulders. Claire felt the dampness under her armpits again. She should have known the challenge wouldn’t be so easy. What were they planning to do?

  ‘Claire!’

  Charlotte had seen her and was gesturing for her to come over.

  Shit.

  Claire turned away from the crossing and went to meet them. Before she was even within a few feet of them, they were whistling and catcalling and Claire knew that the evening with Paul was not something she was going to be able to do without an audience.

  ‘Hi! What are you doing here?’ Claire tried to sound casual.

  ‘Hello! You didn’t think we’d let you come on your own, did you? Swotty, snotty Paul on a date – this we have to see!’ Vivian smirked, her pineapple ponytail swinging. Claire noticed that Anne at least had the decency to look embarrassed.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ added Charlotte, linking arms with Claire and leading her towards the cinema. ‘We’ll sit right at the back, so we don’t disturb you two – right, girls?’ The others started making kissing noises and Claire noticed even Anne joined in.

  Cow.

  Reluctantly, Claire felt herself being pulled along. Would Paul be waiting for her by now? All of sudden, she wasn’t sure which was worse: him not turning up or him turning up and the two of them having to endure popcorn thrown at their heads all night. But as they rounded the corner, she could see him waiting, dressed in black jeans and a Guns N’ Roses T-shirt. Claire thought of her own Guns N’ Roses T-shirt at home and wondered if he liked INXS as well.

  ‘Oooh, Paul scrubs up rather well for a weirdo, doesn’t he?’ announced Tiffany. The others giggled, and Claire pretended to laugh.

  ‘Right,’ said Charlotte, all business. ‘For every challenge, at least one founding member of the Queen Bees has to be there to make sure it happens – and Anne’s here because we invited her,’ she added, answering Claire’s silent question. ‘You have to kiss him for at least five seconds. You ready?’

  Claire nodded seriously as if accepting a state mission.

  ‘And remember,’ said Charlotte, ‘we’ll be watching!’

  Claire walked away to the sniggers of the girls and for the first time wondered if she really did want to be a Queen Bee after all.

  *

  ‘Hi!’ said Claire casually, conscious of the watchful eyes of the girls on her. She combed her hair away from her face with her left hand and shoved her hand back in her pocket.

  ‘Hello,’ replied Paul. He grinned, his relief that she had turned up evident and Claire felt her stomach contract with guilt and something else she couldn’t identify. She met his eyes briefly, the blaze of blue at odds with the black rock T-shirt, before she saw him glance away looking over her shoulder at her friends.

  ‘Yeah, sorry about that,’ said Claire with a shrug.

  ‘Shall we go in?’ he asked, clearly as keen to escape them as she was. They climbed the stairs and queued without speaking, listening to the loud screeches of female laughter echoing in the stairwell behind them, both silently urging the cashier to hurry up. When it was their turn, Paul waved away Claire’s purse as he paid for both of them and asked her if she wanted any popcorn. She said no but he bought her some anyway.

  Why did he have to be so nice?

  Claire felt herself relax a little as they entered the theatre. It was dark and quiet, a cave where she could imagine this was a proper first date and not some cruel challenge. They would sit next to each other in the red velvet seats, talking about music and school while waiting for the film to start. Every so often their hands would touch as they shared the box of popcorn and then the film would start and Paul would gently take her hand in his and she wouldn’t sweat at all.

  ‘Claaaaaaaire! Mwah, mwah!’

  The heckle interrupted her daydream, the catcall altering her name to sound ugly and harsh. She resisted the urge to look around and instead sneaked a glance at Paul, his face staring intently at the screen.

  *

  Claire discreetly looked at her watch. The last hour and a half had been horrid. She hadn’t been able to concentrate on the film at all, distracted by the whispers and giggles of the girls sat a few rows behind her. Now, thank God, the film was almost over. But if she didn’t kiss him soon, she would miss her chance. How on earth was she going to do this?

  She shifted in her seat using her hands on the arms of the chair to lift herself. As she moved, he glanced over at her, moving his own arm to make way for hers. She smiled at him encouragingly and hoped he would take her hand. He didn’t. She had no choice – she would have to make the first move. Staring at the screen, she wiped her damp palm on her jeans before tentatively reaching over, praying he wouldn’t reject her. As her fingers clasped around his, she sensed him looking at her in surprise, but he didn’t shrug her off and she felt his own hand close around hers.

  Claire tried to regulate her breathing. His hand was warm and dry and for a moment, she allowed herself to continue her real-date fantasy. But then on screen, as Daniel prepared for his final fight as the Karate Kid, she knew she only had minutes left to kiss him.

  She couldn’t do it.

  She had to do it.

  But she couldn’t.

  But then what about the Queen Bees? School would be a nightmare if she didn’t do it. Just yesterday, Anne had told what happened to Mandy when she’d failed her challenge of opening the glass cage of tarantulas at the zoo and putting her hand inside to get one out – they’d called her a scaredy-cat for weeks and then every time she opened her bag or her locker, there was a plastic spider in there. Then one time, they’d put a real spider in her locker and Mandy had screamed and cried hysterically until one of the teachers had come to see what all the commotion was about. Of course, Mandy wasn’t daft enough to tell tales, but it certainly explained why Charlotte and the rest of the Queen Bees had ostracised Mandy and she was always the last one to be picked for teams and partner work.

  Claire closed her eyes.

  She had to do it.

  It was five seconds of her life.

  She would lean over, put her lips on his and count to five.

  Now.

  Do it now!

  Her thoughts were racing, and she could feel the sweat down her back. Her right hand, held by Paul, was also starting to get clammy again. Gently she removed her hand from his, and the movement made Paul turn to face her.

  Do it!

  She leant in, her face tilting to the right. His face was so close to hers she could see the confusion in his eyes. But then he seemed to understand and their lips met in the darkness. She counted to five but she didn’t pull away and after that, her mind stilled, and as the lights came up, she barely heard the hoots and cheers from the back row.

  *

  ‘Oh my God, that was like something out of Dirty Dancing!’

  She’d not even been home ten minutes before Anne was on the phone.

  ‘What. A. Kiss! And way longer than five seconds! I can’t believe it! Charlotte didn’t say very much but I could tell she was impressed,’ said Anne. ‘Oh my God! You’re so in! I’m so happy!’

  Claire held the phone away from her ear slightly, but she couldn’t help grinning. Anne was right. She was in! On Monday, they would induct her or whatever it was they called it
in the secret ceremony and finally, she would get her bracelet.

  17

  Paul woke up in bed, his penis hard, his Superman duvet cover twisted around him. Glancing at the clock, he saw it was still dark outside. When was the last time he’d woken up before nine on a weekend? He couldn’t remember. But this morning was different. Today, he’d woken up knowing that he had kissed a girl. And not just any girl.

  Throughout his early teens, he’d imagined what his first kiss would be like and wondered when it would happen. If it would happen. But not even his most erotic dreams had prepared him for something like this. It was better than getting a Game Boy for his birthday. Better than being able to do a stand-up wheelie on his bike. And much, much better than the top-shelf magazines that he kept well hidden under his bed.

  Paul lay for a few moments, his eyes getting used to the darkness, thinking about Claire. He’d been prepared for her not to turn up at the cinema the night before and so when she’d walked towards him, he’d pretended not to see her, his eyes determinedly fixed on the pub across the road, only turning as she got nearer. Her very presence had floored him. He could smell her perfume and he’d wanted to reach out and touch her hair, feel the soft blonde strands between his fingers and before he could stop himself, he imagined grabbing a handful, tugging it, so her head tilted back to meet his.

  Her shy greeting had interrupted his thoughts and he forced himself to concentrate on opening the cinema door for her, deliberately letting it slam shut on the catcalls of her friends behind them.

  What the hell had they turned up for? Claire had said there would be some others, he supposed. But still. Charlotte? He knew Charlotte of course – everybody did. He just didn’t get why everyone seemed so into her. To him, she was vapid. Of all the people to become Miss Popular at the school, he certainly wouldn’t have put his money on her. She didn’t even know the Periodic Table after weeks of studying.

  In the first year of high school, Charlotte and Paul had been paired up by Mrs Chelmhurst to work on their chemistry projects. Without a doubt, it had been the most painful six weeks of Paul’s life. Charlotte knew absolutely nothing about chemistry and had no interest in learning anything. He had a feeling that Mrs Chelmhurst had done it deliberately; when he’d tried to explain to her that he wanted to work with someone else, she hadn’t even bothered to listen to him.

  In the end, he’d completed the project by himself. Of course, they had got an A, because he’d done all the work and then Charlotte had sat there preening, not even bothering to thank him, just looking at herself in a stupid sparkly mirror that she carried everywhere with her. Some people had it so easy. He’d wanted to push her then, off the stool and onto her skinny arse. He wanted to watch the mirror smash into a thousand pieces, to watch her stupid, ignorant face look up at him – to finally acknowledge him.

  Paul sunk lower under the covers and thought about Claire again. Thank God it had been dark in the cinema otherwise it would have been very embarrassing. After they’d kissed, he could only stare into her eyes, oblivious to even Charlotte and her witches. He remembered the look on Claire’s face.

  Desire.

  As the lights came up, he’d quickly pulled his jacket over his lap. But then Claire’s attention had been caught by Charlotte and he wanted to shut them down. To obliterate them. Anything just to have that moment back with Claire. He thought about her, the softness of her lips, the gentle probing of his tongue, and he reached under the covers.

  *

  ‘You seem different,’ said Brian, a few hours later. They’d ridden their bikes down to the woods as usual where they’d set up what they grandly referred to as an army assault course, but that wasn’t really much more than a series of ramps to practise their stunts on. For over an hour, they’d gone up and down the makeshift slopes, trying to get higher and higher with every attempt but then Brian had turned his front wheel too far, landing awkwardly, so they were sitting on a log taking a break, their bikes abandoned at their feet.

  ‘Do I?’ said Paul. ‘You mean because I was able to do the rear peg wheelie three times in a row and you couldn’t even do one?’

  Brian looked up and grinned from his hunched position on the end of the log where he was using a small branch to make circles in the soft ground.

  ‘No, you prick. I don’t know – I can’t put my finger on it.’ Brian continued prodding the ground, the stick jabbing. Paul waited, wanting to be asked, but he couldn’t help himself.

  ‘Last night I went out with Claire,’ blurted Paul proudly. ‘She asked me out at school last week.’

  Brian looked up in surprise.

  ‘What? Don’t look so shocked!’ said Paul.

  ‘You little shit. And you didn’t tell me!’ But Brian was impressed, Paul could tell.

  ‘Yeah well. I didn’t see you yesterday,’ replied Paul, trying not to sound resentful about Brian playing football every day after school. But he couldn’t help it – Gavin might be less inclined to hassle him on the way home if Brian was with him.

  ‘Annnnnnnd… we snogged,’ announced Paul, not wanting to mention it was Claire who had kissed him as he hadn’t had the balls to make the first move. ‘In the cinema. In the dark. It was fucking fantastic,’ finished Paul.

  ‘Whoa, hang on a minute. What do you mean you snogged?’ asked Brian.

  ‘I mean – we kissed! Have you never seen anyone kiss before?’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘Leant right in, her mouth on mine – tongue and everything. She was loving it,’ he added, unable to stop himself boasting. ‘She would have done more I reckon if Charlotte and her mates weren’t behind us screaming their heads off.’

  ‘Charlotte was there?’ asked Brian, his eyes suddenly narrowing.

  ‘Yeah, with her witches.’

  ‘Really? You know…’ Brian tailed off as if he was about to say something but then changed his mind. Instead he said, ‘Good for you, mate.’

  But Paul barely noticed. ‘So, what do you think? Shall I call her?’ He felt his bravado slipping away. He knew somehow he had to see her again and soon. But how?

  ‘Nah…’ replied Brian. ‘You’ll see her in school on Monday, won’t you?’

  ‘Yeah but then everyone will be around,’ said Paul.

  ‘Trust me, mate,’ assured Brian. ‘You don’t want to call her. You don’t want to seem too keen, you know?’

  ‘I suppose so,’ said Paul although he was disappointed. He’d looked forward to discussing the details of the phone call with Brian.

  ‘How do you know, anyway?’ asked Paul doubting his friend’s advice.

  ‘Duh! Simon,’ shot back Brian.

  Paul conceded immediately. Simon was Brian’s older brother, in his last year at sixth form. He’d been with sexy Nicole for the last six months.

  ‘Okay, Monday then. But then what? Do I go up to her, do you think?’

  ‘No,’ said Brian quickly.

  ‘Really? Then what?’

  ‘Where did you first meet her? I mean, where did she ask you out?’

  ‘In the library,’ replied Paul.

  ‘Then go to the library and wait. See if she comes again,’ said Brian decidedly.

  ‘You reckon? It seems a bit, you know, hit and miss. How will she I know I’m there?’

  ‘Really?’ Brian looked at his friend. ‘You’re always in the library, you moron.’ He punched his friend lightly on the arm.

  Paul laughed. ‘I suppose so. Okay, I’ll give it a week. But if she doesn’t come then we need another plan. In the meantime, ask Simon.’

  Brian nodded, the matter closed.

  *

  Paul let himself in through the back door quietly, wanting nothing more than to go up to his bedroom, lie on his bed and think about Claire.

  ‘Paul – is that you?’

  For fuck’s sake.

  ‘Yep – was just with Brian,’ he shouted over his shoulder already halfway up the stairs. He could see his bedroom door at the top of the lan
ding just a few metres away. He was almost there, his hand reaching for the door when he heard his mother at the foot of the stairs.

  ‘Paul?’

  He froze. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Can you turn around please?’

  Reluctantly, Paul turned to face his mother, her gaze scanning him from top to toe and he knew she was trying to ascertain what he’d been up to.

  ‘I was worried,’ she said eventually. ‘Why didn’t you say you were going out? You’re never up this early and I’d made breakfast for you.’

  ‘Sorry, Mum,’ he replied. His fingers tapped the door handle, desperate to be out from under her scrutiny.

  ‘So, where have you been?’

  ‘I told you already,’ he said impatiently, ‘out with Brian. We rode our bikes through the woods. Like we do every Saturday.’

  At the sarcasm, his father appeared, a stern figure, who even on the weekend dressed as if he was going to the office.

  ‘Don’t speak to your mother like that,’ he ordered, coming up behind her.

  Fuck you.

  ‘Like what?’ Paul retorted. It was a risk. He saw his mother’s left eye twitch with anxiety as she discreetly signed a warning by touching her left earlobe.

  ‘It’s all right, Bill,’ she soothed.

  ‘No, it’s not all right, Maureen, he’s been moody and difficult for months now,’ snapped Bill, working himself up. ‘What’s he got to be moody about? The boy doesn’t want for anything. His whole future ahead of him.’

  Paul and his mum locked eyes, sensing the danger.

  Not today, Dad, do not do this today.

  ‘Come on, Bill, why don’t we go and have a cup of tea and a scone. It’s only eleven. Let Paul get on with his homework.’ Maureen trailed off, starting to move away from the bottom of the stairs. But the tenseness of her shoulders showed Paul that she was already regretting quizzing her son with Bill in the house.