“And that’s the thing about people who mean everything they say. They think everyone else does, too.” –K. Hosseini
I know you’ve probably heard it many times, but I cannot possibly stress the importance of this point enough to you.
When lying, the truth is key.
Seriously. If someone asks you a question in which you have to lie, feed them a little bit of truth with it. Then, if they choose to investigate on the matter, you have a little bit of the truth to fall back on. And, hey, you won’t fail the lie detector test. Win!
So, when Perrie fell into step beside me the next morning, and asked nonchalantly, “So, what did you get up to yesterday afternoon?” I hardly hesitated as I replied, “Nothing much. Just over at a guy’s house.”
“Ooh, scandalous,” she said, flipping her long blonde hair over her shoulder and smirking. “Who’s the lucky guy? Wait, no, let me guess. Is it that new guy? I heard you and him were flirting at football practice yesterday.”
“Yeah? Who told you that?”
She smirked triumphantly. “Oh, no one important.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “But seriously, Cam, who’s the dude?”
“Oh,” I mimicked in her tone of voice. “No one important.”
Her lips puckered in irritation. “No fair. I tell you about my boyfriends.”
“He’s not a boyfriend, Per,” I told her, stopping in front of my locker and opening it to search for my first-period textbook. I shut my locker and turned to her, cocking my head to the side. She had dark bags under her eyes, but they were bloodshot, and her usually tanned skin looked a little pale. “Hey, you okay?” I asked, touching her upper arm lightly. “You don’t look well.”
In fact, it looked like she had almost tried to cover it up with concealer and mascara, but had not done a very good job. She looked tired and sick.
Her eyebrows drew together and she shook her head. “Huh? No, I’m fine, Cam. Just had a crappy sleep last night, that’s all.”
Liar, I thought to myself, but didn’t push the subject. Maybe she was just feeling under the weather, or something.
“All right,” I replied, just as, overhead, the intercom bleated out a four-note song to alert all its students a message was coming in.
“Camila Stryker, report to the principal’s office, please. Camila Stryker, to the principal’s office.”
I groaned and swore under my breath, before quickly opening my locker and throwing back in the textbook. “What’d you do now?” Perrie asked, leaning against the navy metal and regarding me suspiciously.
I shrugged. “A better question would be what didn’t I do?” I shut the locker and then turned. “I gotta go. I’ll see you later.”
YOU ARE READING
Dirty Little Secrets
Teen FictionThere's not much that goes on in the picturesque town of Leighton Fields that Camila Stryker doesn't know about. She's used to unearthing secrets, making deals, and manipulating her way to the top of the food chain. Ever since she was old enough to...
