When I Lied

by Michelle Kemper Brownlow

  “And, you were headed to the microfiche room just for giggles, right?” I laughed.

  “Suuure, because that place is such a friggin’ party. Is that where you are?”

  “I am. I know, sad. But, I need your help.” I stood and walked toward the windows just to stretch my legs.

  “Let me stop by my room quick and I’ll be right there.”

  “Thanks, Mack.”

  “But you owe me.”

  “I know.” And I knew what she meant. She wanted me to spill the beans on who it was I was secretly seeing.

  Me: MacKenna’s coming to the library anyway, I’ll just walk home with her. But thanks for the offer.

  Jason: No problem. Friday’s Halloween. Maybe I’ll see you at the house? Costume party.

  Me: Sounds fun.

  Jason: Have a good one, Kate.

  Me: You, too. Thanks again.

  I was still standing at the windows watching students rushing around in the cool night air dressed in light coats and hoodies when MacKenna burst through the doors.

  “I got some booze in my bag!” Her voice was always so loud and shrill.

  “Mack! You’re going to get us kicked out!”

  “Right, because look at all these people I’m bothering.” She spun with her arms out and pointed to all the empty tables. “You’re the only nerd here. I didn’t even know this place existed and this is my third year here. I actually had to look at the directory at the elevators to know you were on the fourth floor.”

  “Yeah, me too. I’ve never been in here, either.”

  “So what are you doing? It’s creepy up here at night.” She pulled a chair over to the station where I was working and pulled two beers from her backpack.

  “Mack! You can’t—”

  “Kate! You’re too nervous about stuff like this. Relax! You need to break some rules now and then, ya know. Keep tabs on your youthful spirit or you’ll grow up and be one of those crotchety old cat ladies who yells at kids for playing too loudly on the sidewalks.”

  The beer bottle had just touched my lips when she finished her rant, which was good because had I had a mouthful, I would have ruined about ten years’ worth of film.

  “Okay, so what are we looking for?”

  “We need to go back about seven or eight, maybe nine years and search Dagenham, England for someone named Pierce Sunderland.” I poured a good amount of beer to the back of my throat.

  “Who’s that?” MacKenna walked over to the film cabinets.

  “Just someone I need to research.” I fast-forwarded through some more films on my machine.

  “Kate!” My name rushed out of her mouth with such force, it made me jump. I spun my chair around and awaited the onslaught of questioning. “Listen, secrets make me crazy anyway but it seems like whatever you are hiding is eating you alive. I can’t stand that we don’t see you as much these last couple weeks. And, don’t get me wrong, if you and your mystery man are married or you and Jason are having wild and crazy hot sex, then you’re a goddess. But, considering you don’t talk about Oliver and you didn’t come back to the house after your date with Jason, I’m assuming that’s not the case.” She grabbed a box of films and walked back over to the station next to me.

  “You knew we had a date?” I stopped looking into my machine and turned to face MacKenna.

  “He likes you a lot, Kate. And he was so excited about tonight. Did he ask you to the Halloween Bash?”

  “Oh.”

  “So, tell me what’s going on.” She turned to her machine and the whir of the film speeding through the viewfinder calmed me a little.

  “I can’t…yet. Mack, you just have to trust me. I’m not in any kind of legal trouble or anything. I did something stupid and now I’m stuck in a big lie and I have to try and get out of it before I hurt someone.”

  “Oliver.”

  “Yeah, him.” Then I thought about the second part to my dilemma, Gretchen. If I told Oliver, it would directly affect her and she’d use those pictures, if she even has them, against me.

  “And?”

  “And then Gretchen—” Shit. I didn’t mean to say her name.

  “Gretchen Adler? She’s a bitch! What’s she got to do with any of this? She’s wreaking havoc at Beta Sig right now. Don’t tell me she’s messing with you, too?” MacKenna looked livid.

  “No, I’m just paired with her for a Psych project and she’s driving me insane.” I took another swig of my beer. “What’s she doing out at the house?”

  “She apparently took pictures of her and Charlie having sex and she’s making sure he knows she’s not afraid to use them against him.” Mack rolled her eyes and went back to work looking at files.

  “But then she’s in the pictures, too. Wouldn’t she tank her own career then by outing Charlie?” It was like déjà vu.

  “She’s not stupid. Her head is outside of the frame of all the pictures. No one would know it was her—it could be anyone.”

  The pictures Gretchen had weren’t of me. Charlie didn’t take pictures of us. I felt a rush of relief. Knowing what a player Charlie was, Gretchen must’ve taken pictures of them, cropped her head out and knew she could use them against Charlie and a boatload of girls if she ever needed to.

  “That bitch!”

  “Yeah, seriously. Hey, Kate. What did you say the guy’s name was I’m supposed to be looking for? Pierce Sunderland?”

  “Yes! Did you find something?” My chest tightened and my stomach instantly felt sick. I didn’t want to ever have to relive the night Oliver told me about, but I may just have to.

  “Poor kid.”

  “Oh, God. Let me see.” MacKenna slid her chair out of the way and I scooted in front of her machine and peeked in under the hood that kept the light out.

  STUDENT FOUND UNCONSCIOUS ON DAGENHAM BACK ROAD

  Last night, sixteen–year-old Pierce Sunderland, the missing special needs student from Belvedere, was found severely beaten and unconscious on the side of the road in Dagenham. The boy had been missing from The Boothe House, a residential facility for teens with severe developmental delays, since summer.

  Sunderland’s parents have had numerous press conferences over the last six months, begging anyone with clues to call the police. They even offered a $10,000 reward for any tip leading police to their son.

  This morning, a spokesperson for the family made this statement, “The Sunderland family is overjoyed their son is alive and safe. Pierce is severely autistic and does not speak but the police remain hopeful they will be able to use forensic evidence to find his attacker. The $10,000 reward remains available for anyone with a tip that leads to the arrest of the person responsible for this heinous crime.”

  If you have a tip for police, please call your local police department.

  A sob left my throat and tears streamed down my cheeks. Oliver wasn’t the murderer he feared he was. I wished I could call him.

  Seventeen

  “So, do you have the definition written?” I needed to break the silence. We worked feverishly during the last couple of Professor Woods’s classes, and this one was no different. Gretchen had been distant and working on our Power Point presentation for the last hour. Her reasoning was that once each slide was done, we could just plug in all our details when our research was finished.

  “I have the definitions done but not the musician bios. Can you do those, please?” She said it with a fake smile and a bat of her eyes. The last she spoke to me was when she threatened to blast the pictures of me and Charlie across the Internet. I now knew that those pictures were of her and not me. So I didn’t feel I needed to keep the peace.

  “I’m almost done organizing the info for Beethoven and Barbra Streisand then I’ll start Cole Porter.” I think subconsciously I saved him until last because it reminded me of Oliver and I was so torn up over his poor soul I just didn’t want to deal with it yet. I needed a magnum of wine and Oliver to help me get inside Cole Porter’s head.

  “Could we pl
ease pick someone else? Cole Porter is so boring! I don’t think anyone will know who he is. And Barbra Streisand reminds me of doctor’s office music. I wish you’d swap those out for people who are actually interesting.” She rolled her eyes but didn’t move her gaze from her laptop screen.

  “Gretchen, listen. We have men and women depicted; we have varying points along a century timeline and three different mental illnesses. We’re golden.”

  “I still don’t know why we couldn’t use Oliver.” She was so freaking obnoxious.

  “Shhh!” I slapped myself in the mouth with my index finger. “I promised him, as Lexi, that I’d keep everything he told me private. So, if you’re Lexi, you need to honor him in the same way…if he’s told you private stuff.”

  She was visibly uncomfortable, which stirred something inside me that I didn’t like at all.

  “Whatever.” We’d been in class for an hour and she’d yet to make eye contact. I started to wonder if Mack had confronted her about the pictures. It would be just like MacKenna to take the bull by the horns and try to defuse the situation for all of us. And, if she had, Gretchen may have assumed Mack told me.

  “I need you to send me the Power Point file so I can add all the info as I organize it.” Gretchen stopped typing and looked up at me.

  “You just get the info to me and I will type it all in.”

  She was a control freak.

  We spent the next hour trading laptops for spiral notebooks. She’d type on her laptop and I’d research on mine, then she’d research on mine while I typed and laid out slides for the presentation. We had stacks and stacks of papers spread across the desk: things we’d printed out over the last couple of weeks, handouts from Professor Woods, notes and ideas. We were actually really prepared for the project and as long as Gretchen didn’t change anything once I handed over my work, we really would be golden.

  “Good lord, I’ve gotta piss.” Gretchen slid her chair back as if her bladder instantaneously filled up.

  “Here, give me your laptop and I’ll type up the stuff I just gave you.”

  She spun the laptop in my direction and headed out of the room.

  “Miss Adler!” Professor Woods called after her as she stepped out into the hallway.

  She looked annoyed when she popped her head back into the room. “Professor Woods, I gotta—”

  “I know. I just wanted to let you know that the restrooms on this floor are out of order. You need to run downstairs to the café.” He winked and she huffed and grumbled then took off.

  Annoyance fizzled underneath my skin like static electricity. I was annoyed that Professor Woods winked at Gretchen. That was grossly inappropriate. But I was more annoyed that she made me feel like she was in control of this project. I knew she’d be a while waiting in line at the café restroom, so I scrolled back to the first page of our presentation to tweak anything she added on her own.

  A quiet pinging sound came from under the piles of notes. I patted the piles to turn off whatever it was before Professor Woods got annoyed with me.

  I pulled Gretchen’s phone from under the stack of musician bios and my whole body warmed when I saw the name of the incoming call. I’m not sure how the plan solidified so quickly in my mind but it did. So, I declined the call and texted Oliver back…as Gretchen…as Lexi.

  Me: Hey, I’m in class. Can’t talk. You ok?

  Oliver: Wow! It’s been awhile since you asked me that. Thank you, love. But, I’m fine. I have something to ask you.

  I had two thoughts when I read his text. One, of course she keeps his real name in her contacts and two, she’s never asked him if he was okay. She really was a heartless bitch.

  Me: I’m glad you’re fine. What’s up?

  Oliver: Lexi, you probably already have plans tonight, it’s a Friday night and you’re a beautiful girl.

  Oh my word, I could tell how she must have been treating him by how he worded his texts. Like he was second-rate, like she may have something better to do than spend time with him. He never acted that way with me…when I was Lexi.

  Me: Oliver, you come before any plans I may have, you should know that by now.

  If I hadn’t constructed the plan in my mind of what I was about to do, I wouldn’t have responded that way for fear of getting his hopes up that Gretchen would respond the way he was used to Lexi responding.

  Oliver: Lexi, my heart…

  Me: What is it, Oliver? What plans do you have for us?

  I could only assume Oliver was giving her one last shot at the connection he’d so badly hoped for.

  Oliver: Tonight, to celebrate Halloween, there’s a Cole Porter themed masquerade ball here in D.C. and I would like you to accompany me there.

  Me: Is this a promo thing?

  I looked up at the door to make sure Gretchen wasn’t coming back in.

  Oliver: No. Just you and me. No one will know it’s me behind my mask and we can finally do something off campus, something social.

  Me: Oliver, I am so proud of you. This is huge!

  Oliver: I’m trying not to think too much about it but I feel like we need to reconnect, just the two of us like it was before I came to town. One last time.

  My heart thudded in my chest. I had trouble pulling in one complete breath.

  “Professor Woods, I need to run down to the lobby. I think I left one of my notebooks in the study lounge.” I lied. Professor Woods nodded but didn’t wink. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. But I didn’t have time to dissect it. I had to get out of the classroom before Gretchen got back. The study lounge and the café were at two different ends of the building so if I knew if I actually headed there I could miss her and have some privacy, too.

  Me: One last time?

  I texted before I even hit the stairwell.

  Oliver: Love, I wanted to tell you in person but we have to jet back to the UK tomorrow so the timing of the ball couldn’t be more perfect.

  I stopped dead in my tracks on the first landing of the stairs, made a quick scan of the people in the stairwell as I tried to catch my breath, and texted him back.

  Me: Tomorrow? You’re leaving tomorrow?

  I jutted into oncoming traffic, got bitched at by a couple girls I cut off while trying to get to the study lounge without running into Gretchen. I pushed through the doors to the study lounge and headed for the closest corner.

  Oh, God. He’s leaving.

  Oliver: Love, I’ll explain everything tonight. Tell me you’ll come with me. Please, Lexi.

  Me: Of course, Oliver. Of course! I don’t want to be anywhere else.

  Oliver: I can’t wait! I will pick you up at 7.

  Me: <3

  I hit send before I deleted the heart. And before I changed my mind I went into Gretchen’s contacts to delete Oliver. But then it hit me—if I did that she’d know someone had messed with her phone. And by now, she’d probably realize she’d left her phone behind in the classroom.

  Me: Hey, my phone is on its last leg. It’s dying. I’m going back to using my old phone. 910-555-3131.

  I pulled my phone from my pocket and changed Oliver’s number in Gretchen’s phone to the disconnected one I still had in my phone, then deleted our entire string of texts.

  678-555-1101: Remember, my sweet. You have to be in costume and with a mask.

  Oliver’s text came in on my phone. I’d done it. I’d cut Gretchen out of the picture.

  Me: Got it. See you at 7, Oliver.

  I added his new number to Walter’s contact and walked out into the bustling hallway.

  Walter: Until then, love.

  “Kate! Have you seen my phone?” Gretchen took me by the shoulders as soon as I got back to the classroom. She jostled me a little bit; her face was just inches from mine. “I just got back from the bathroom and it’s not on the desk! I’m freaking out!” She looked around then moved her face closer to mine and whispered. “It’s the only way I know how to get ahold of Oliver.”

  “I was bringing it to you. I
guess we missed each other.” I held out her phone.

  I thought back to the summer when Oliver and I played twenty questions and I had to guess the person he was thinking of.

  Me: Cinderella?

  OliverPh5: WE HAVE A WINNER!

  Me: Why did you choose her?

  OliverPh5: She’s my favorite princess.

  Me: So, that’s your favorite fairy tale?

  OliverPh5: No…WE are my favorite fairy tale.

  Now, I was going to the ball with my Prince Charming and Gretchen could sit home like the evil step-bitch that she was.

  ****

  I called MacKenna as soon as I got back to my dorm. There was no way I could get ready for a masquerade ball without her help. And even with her help, I assumed it could take a while. She said she would be home from her classes by three and would be happy to help me under one condition: I tell her my big secret.

  I took a very long, hot shower that afternoon and that’s when it hit me that Oliver was leaving in the morning. When I found out he would be at the Billabong Festival, I was content knowing I’d only have him for mere hours. But then he decided to stay, and I guess subconsciously I’d been hoping all of this would get ironed out and we could spend time together, just he and I. Living in the moment. Living in truth. And now, here I was, planning to tell Oliver everything on the most incredible night we’d ever spend together and then he’d leave. When I lied, I ruined everything before it even started.

  I sat down on my bed and cried. I cried more for Oliver than for myself. Both as Lexi and Kate, I’d been his stability. I’d been his safe place and I’d also been just another liar in his life. My sobs came harder and stronger as I mourned his pending void. I searched my desk for my journal but couldn’t find it. I needed to write down my thoughts and my feelings, but I couldn’t find it fast enough. The words that filled my head were as clear as if someone was standing there saying them to me. I needed to write them down, to get them out, to shake the tree before they evaporated into nothing. They deserved to be eternalized; they were that important. So, rather than search any longer for my journal, I grabbed the closest spiral notebook and a pen, then climbed under my covers and wrote: