Trapped: Caught in a Lie (Secrets)

by Melody Carlson

  The last bell rings and, wasting no time, I begin the exam. Following instructions as usual, I am equipped with only my calculator and a number-two pencil. I’m still doubtful that this program is really going to work. What if Dirk got the answers for the wrong test? Would I even care? But as I begin the first problem, I can tell I have the right program. It matches. And I slowly work my way through all of them, taking what seems an adequate amount of time for each one and filling in the appropriate answers at regular intervals. I begin to relax just a little. And I remember that everyone else is doing the same thing. Well, except for a few unsuspecting students who, like me, will have to figure this out the hard way. Life is unfair. And that’s just how it is.

  As I hand in my paper, I feel Mr. VanDorssen’s eyes on me, lingering a little longer than usual. “How did it go, Miss Lowery?”

  “Okay, I think.” I flash him a nervous smile. “It felt like I was on top of my game.”

  He nods. “Good to know.”

  Then I leave and, feeling slightly numb and empty, slowly walk to the cafeteria. We get a full hour for lunch break during finals week, and usually it’s a time for kids to let their hair down and enjoy the extra time. But I just wish the hands on the clock would turn faster.

  “Still obsessing over yesterday’s bad grade?” Bryant asks as he joins Mary Beth and me.

  “No,” I tell him. “I’m beyond that.”

  “So how did your final go?”

  “Okay.” I try to brighten my countenance. I know my friends can’t enjoy hanging with such a downer. “How was your test?” I ask him.

  Bryant tells about how it was an essay test, which he usually hates. “But today I was really pushing myself to try harder.” He grins at me. “I guess you’re a good influence on me.”

  I swallow the bite of cheeseburger I’ve barely chewed, feeling the hard lump moving slowly down my esophagus and wondering if I’m going to choke on it. I reach for my soda and take a gulp from my straw.

  Fortunately, Mary Beth changes the subject by complaining about the test she just suffered through in French class, going on about how she’ll probably never graduate if she can’t successfully finish just one year of a language.

  “You should let me tutor you in French,” Jorge tells her.

  “You’re good in French?” She blinks.

  “Good enough.”

  “Jorge’s already taken three years of it,” Bryant brags.

  Jorge shrugs. “I’m a teaching assistant in Mrs. Klausner’s fifth period.”

  “I didn’t know that.” Mary Beth’s eyes literally have stars in them now.

  Once again I leave the table early. I’m sure my friends wonder about me. Maybe they assume I have some sort of stomach ailment. As a matter of fact, I’m not so sure that I don’t. But I feel so antsy that I just can’t sit there another minute. I wonder if I’ll get ulcers.

  Eventually the first bell rings and I go to AP History. I’m early, but this is not so unusual for me. Before long, I’m taking the final and feeling like I really am in my zone. I wouldn’t say the test is easy, but I do feel prepared for it. And I’ll be surprised if I don’t get an A. But the best part is the feeling of achievement I have when I turn it in. Like I did this on my own — no help needed. I wish it was like that for all my classes.

  . . . . . . . . . .

  The next day of finals passes without incident or too much stress … probably because there’s no cheating involved on my part. I can’t be certain about everyone else. I suppose my own experience is making me more cynical about others. I might even be worried about how their illicit activities might hinder my grades, but I feel quite secure in these two classes and am therefore unconcerned.

  As a result, I feel more relaxed at the end of the day, like I’m almost starting to feel comfortable in my own skin again. Except that I know the AP Biology final still lurks before me. As I go into the house after school, I’m painfully aware that my short life of crime is not over. How I wish it were.

  I go directly to my room and begin to work on my cheating bracelet. I plan to be even more clever than Kelsey with this. I’m using a real bracelet as camouflage. I select a silver bangle that is just the right width to conceal the strip of paper I printed and cut to fit. I’m just securing the paper with tape when someone taps on my door.

  I shove the bracelet onto my wrist. “Who is it?”

  “Just me, honey,” Mom calls. “Can I come in?”

  I push the paper scraps, tape, and scissors into my desk drawer. “Sure,” I call out.

  “What’s up?” she asks as she comes into my room and looks around.

  “Just studying.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “You’re home early.”

  She stretches her neck from side to side. “Slow day at the hospital. And I’ve gotten so much overtime lately that I decided to leave.”

  “Oh …” I nod, fiddling with my bracelet.

  “Anyway, Dad called and told me to ask you about how set you were for winter wear.”

  “Winter wear?” I frown. “You mean like mittens and things? It’s not like we need a lot of that around here.”

  She shrugs. “I know. I wasn’t too sure what he meant either.” She goes over to my closet. “Mind if I look around?”

  “No.” I go over to join her. “What are we looking for?” Suddenly I feel worried. Does she know something? Did she somehow find out about what I’ve done? But why would she be looking in my closet?

  She pulls out an old parka. “Does this still fit you?”

  “I guess.”

  She pokes around some more, and I start to think she’s really only looking for winter wear like she said. Still, it’s weird. “Okay.” She turns back and smiles. “I’ll tell him we’re fairly well set.”

  “Do you think he’s going to take us somewhere cold?”

  “That’s a good guess. But let’s just play dumb. I can tell he’s got something up his sleeve, and you know how your dad loves to catch us off guard.”

  I nod. “The King of Surprise.”

  “Okay, I’ll let you get back to your studying.” She yawns. “And I plan to take a nice long, hot bath.”

  “Enjoy,” I call as she leaves.

  As soon as the door closes, I slip off the bracelet and just stare at it. What if my mom found out about this stupid bracelet? What if my parents knew how low I’ve sunk? Would it be worth the humiliation? Without cheating I might still get a C for my final grade. Well, unless I get an F on the final exam, which seems likely considering I haven’t studied like I should. An F will drop my overall grade down to a solid D. I just cannot afford a D.

  It feels like my fate is sealed. I have to finish what I started. But when I’m done, I will never, ever do this again. I swear to myself I won’t.

  . . . . . . . . . .

  As I walk into AP Biology, wearing my silver cheater’s bracelet, I am filled with despair and self-loathing. Still, I see no way out of this mess I’ve created. Just get it over and done with.

  Kelsey is sitting at the table across from me. Her cheater’s bracelet is not easy to spot this time because she’s wearing a white shirt and the white strip of paper is neatly tucked within the cuff, but as soon as she starts the test, I notice her occasionally scratching, changing positions, fidgeting.

  All of this is pretty normal test behavior, and as I glance around the room, I can see that others are doing likewise. I look down at my own paper. Is everyone wearing a cheater’s bracelet? Or do some people use other means? In the instructions doc Dirk sent me, there was a whole list of ways to cheat. Some of them seemed pretty ridiculous, not to mention tricky.

  But the silver bracelet works for me. And by the end of the class, I neatly fill in the last answer and then sit up straight to stretch my spine. As I do this, I catch Kelsey staring at me with a knowing look. Like she observed me cheating. Of course, this could be my guilty imagination. But as she gives me a sly smile, I’m sure that she
’s aware. I just hope no one else noticed.

  I glance up to where Ms. Bannister is sitting at her desk, checking her iPhone with an absent expression. And then the release bell rings and everyone starts filing up to her desk to turn in their exams.

  I avoid her eyes as I set mine on top of the others. Then, worried that this could make me appear guiltier, I look directly at her and smile. “Have a good Christmas,” I say lightly.

  “Thanks, GraceAnn. You too.”

  Feeling like some of the weight has been lifted from my back, I leave the room. You can relax now. It’s all over, and it’s time to get back to your life.

  But just then Kelsey comes along, walking beside me. “I see you met Dirk,” she says in a sassy tone.

  I just shrug.

  “I saw you cheating,” she hisses into my ear. “I can’t believe what a hypocrite you are, GraceAnn. Acting like you’re so much better than the rest of us, but the truth is, you’re no different. Except that you’re a hypocrite.”

  I turn to face her. “It’s because of people like you that I had to do what I did. You mess up the grading curve and ruin — ”

  “We all have our little excuses now, don’t we?” She gives me a smug look. “Maybe you won’t be so quick to judge next time.” Then she skips off on her merry little way, probably imagining herself behind the wheel of the Mustang her stepdad is going to give her for pulling an A in an AP class. Well, whatever!

  I try to shake this off as I go into the cafeteria. I’m determined to act like everything is just fine. And really, it is fine. Except that I feel dirty inside and I wonder what it’ll take to get clean again. Also, Kelsey’s words keep ringing in my ears. She’s right … I am a hypocrite.

  “Only a week until Christmas,” Mary Beth announces to our lunch table as we settle in to eat. “Anybody doing anything exciting during the break?”

  “I agreed to work at my aunt’s restaurant while my uncle recovers from surgery,” Jorge says a bit glumly. “Now I’m wishing I hadn’t.”

  “Well, at least you’ll be making some money,” Bryant tells him. “Not to mention eating well.”

  “I think my dad might have a surprise up his sleeve.” Then I tell them about the mysterious question over winter wear.

  “Maybe you’re going to a ski resort for winter break,” Bryant suggests.

  “I thought about that. Except my parents’ work schedules are usually too busy for them to get away for more than a day at a time.”

  We visit and eat and visit some more, and by the time lunch ends, I almost feel like my old self again. Almost. We wish each other luck with our next finals and go our separate ways. But I’m feeling confident about journalism this year. Compared to trig and AP Biology, it’s a walk in the park.

  By the time school lets out, I think I might actually survive my self-inflicted ordeal. Oh, I’m certainly not proud of what I’ve pulled off. But it was a way to get by. In the long run, when I’m going to Stanford, it’ll all be worth it. Really, a girl’s got to do what a girl’s got to do.

  “Want to go out and celebrate?” I ask Mary Beth as we’re walking to the car. “I’ll spot you for a mocha.”

  “Seems a little early to celebrate,” she says in a dismal tone. “We still have tomorrow’s finals to slog through.”

  “Yes, but it’s just art. That’s a no-brainer.”

  “I’m not talking about art.” She lets out a groan. “I asked to retake my algebra final.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I know I blew it on Tuesday. And Mr. Johnson has a one-time-only retake policy, which I plan to exercise. So I’m not ready to celebrate just yet. I need to go home and study.”

  “Okay.”

  “You seem to be feeling a lot less stressed,” she says as I pull up to her house.

  “Yeah …” I let out a sigh. “I’ll be so glad to have this week behind me.”

  “I know. I was actually starting to get worried.”

  “About your finals?”

  “No. About you. You haven’t been yourself at all, GraceAnn. I was worried that you were losing it. But you do seem better now.” She peers curiously at me. “Do you think you did okay on your tests?”

  I nod. “Yeah, I think so. Like you said, I just needed to think more positively and relax a little.”

  “Now I just need to take my own advice.” She grimaces as she reaches for her bag. “That algebra final could undo me.”

  “You’ll be fine.”

  “Easy for you to say. You’re ready to go out and celebrate. My graduating hinges on some of these classes.”

  For one crazy moment, I am tempted to tell her about Dirk. Naturally, I do not. That would be insane. Not only is he too expensive for Mary Beth, it’s just wrong. I can’t even imagine how shocked she’d be if I mentioned it to her. Or what she would say if she knew that I’d already gone to him … already cheated. I don’t even want to think about it.

  Instead, I tell her not to study too hard. “And don’t stay up too late,” I call out. “That always messes you up more than it helps.”

  As she’s waving and walking toward her house, my cell phone rings. To my surprise, it’s Dirk. “So, how did it go?” he asks with way too much familiarity.

  “It went okay,” I say carefully.

  “No problems, then?”

  “No.” Now I’m feeling uneasy with my car still parked in front of Mary Beth’s house. And although it’s illegal, I put my car into gear with the phone still by my ear and slowly drive down the block, then park again.

  “Well, I’m glad to hear that, GraceAnn. Glad I could help you out.”

  “And I appreciate it.” Suddenly I’m feeling nervous again. Like this really isn’t over yet. And I want to ask him why he’s calling me out of the blue like this. Is this some kind of customer service he offers?

  “And you remember I told you that you’d owe me one, right?”

  I feel the pit of my stomach twisting. “I told you, I don’t think I know anyone to send your way.”

  “And that’s okay. That’s not what I’m calling about.”

  “Then what?” I hate to even think of what a dirtbag guy like Dirk might possibly want from me. And it sickens me to think that he has any right to expect anything. What if I just told him to get lost and hung up the phone?

  “I want you to pick me up some OxyContin at work.”

  “What?” I screech into the phone.

  “You heard me. And then we’ll be even.”

  “Are you nuts?” Now I’m not an expert at the pharmacy, but I know that OxyContin is a highly addictive pain med and is extremely valuable to pill peddlers.

  “No, GraceAnn. I’m not nuts. I just need you to nab me some OxyContin. No big deal. I’m sure there’s plenty of it at your pharmacy.”

  “First of all, it’s not my pharmacy. Second of all, my uncle keeps that kind of thing locked up in a secure area.”

  “Well, it can’t always be locked up. And I’m sure you know how to get to it if you want — ”

  “Even if I could do that, there is no way on God’s green earth I would do that, Dirk. So you might as well get that through your — ”

  “Hold on there,” he says in a strangely calm voice. “It’s up to you whether or not you get it for me. But like I said, you owe me. And if you refuse to pay up, I have other ways of getting even with you.”

  “What other ways?”

  “First of all, I’ll let the school know you cheated.”

  “How?”

  He laughs. “It’s easy. I just send them a copy of what I sent you. They check your tests and the evidence is all there. And it won’t be the first time I’ve pulled the plug on a customer who let me down.”

  “But what if I get you the rest of the money?” Suddenly $250 more doesn’t sound like such a steep price. “I could have it to you by — ”

  “The problem is that I’m not in need of money right now. But I could use some OxyContin. And I thought you were just the girl
to get it for me, GraceAnn. Guess I was wrong.”

  “But it’s Christmas break and my family is going on vacation.” Okay, this is another big fat lie, but it’s all I have. And besides, it’s Dirtbag I’m talking to. Not a real person. “So anyway, I’m not even scheduled to work until after the New Year and — ”

  “Okay, fine,” he snaps. “I’ll give you a couple of weeks to get it for me. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook. I expect to be paid in full in January. If you let me down, I’ll make your life miserable. Understand?”

  “Yeah,” I mutter. “I understand.”

  If I thought my life was messed up before, it is way beyond that now. What I thought was an endless black hole, swallowing me alive, is starting to feel more like hell. The nastiest sort of hell — because it’s a place I helped to create with my own two hands, and now it threatens to drag others down into it with me. I’m beginning to feel that there is no escape.

  . . . [CHAPTER 11]. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  “I get why Mary Beth is so agitated,” Bryant says to me at the lunch table on Friday. “She still has that algebra final. But what’s up with you?”

  “Nothing.” I set down the soda can I’ve been fidgeting with and fake a carefree expression. “Just restless is all.”

  “You should be feeling pretty good by now.” Mary Beth frowns at me. “Or are you still worrying about your grades?”

  “I’m not worried,” I say in a slightly irate tone.

  Her brows arch. “Okay then.” She glances at Jorge, and he just shrugs.

  “Hey, I have an idea,” he says. “Why don’t we all go out tonight to celebrate? There are a couple of new movies just out and — ”

  “I can’t,” Mary Beth says with disappointment. “I promised my mom I’d go Christmas shopping with her tonight.”

  “How about tomorrow?” he asks eagerly.

  Her eyes light up. “Tomorrow works.”

  “How about you guys?” He nods to Bryant.

  “Sure, I’m game, but I can’t speak for GraceAnn.”

  The truth is, I don’t really want to go out with them. Not because I don’t like them, but because I feel like crawling under a rock somewhere. “I have to work tomorrow,” I say absently, like that’s an excuse.