Even When You Lie to Me by Jessica Alcott Page B

Charlie, that someday you write a novel about Russian carnies.”
    “I’ll make a note,” I said.
    “Do.” He leaned back and his chair screamed on its hinges. “Good Lord,” he said, and I started laughing helplessly, partly at his reaction and partly to let out what felt like helium in my lungs.
    He smiled, looking baffled. “I’m glad my bumbling has given you such amusement.”
    “You’re funny,” I said. “I like you.” As soon as I said it, I wished I could take it back, but his expression lightened and I realized I’d caught him off guard.
    “I like you too, Charlie,” he said. “Even when you lie to me.”



Attendance at our school’s first pep rally of the year was mandatory for underclassmen. As a senior I could have escaped early, since I could drive, but Lila was a field hockey player, and she’d instructed me to show up and at least pretend to be enthusiastic.
    Normally I would have sat with her, but she was in another room with the field hockey team, waiting to be cheered as they strutted into the gym. I wandered around the half-full bleachers, trying to act like I was looking for a friend. I knew Drummond wouldn’t be there—he’d left early—but I half hoped he’d turn up anyway. Finally I spotted Katie from our English class. She was popular but she’d always been nice to me.
    “Mind if I sit here?” I asked. She was alone, texting someone.
    “Course not,” she said, smiling at me. “How’s it going?”
    “Okay,” I said. “Hate these things.”
    “Oh, really?” she said. She peered at her vibrating phone again. “Sorry, just a sec,” she said, and resumed texting.
    As her thumbs tapped the screen, I looked around the gym, trying to seem like I was coolly observing the action and not just being socially outmatched by a phone. The bleachers were filling up as groups of kids barreled in, already giving off a dangerous hum of electricity.
    “Sorry,” said Katie, looking up. “Insecure boyfriend.”
    I knew I was supposed to offer my own boyfriend anecdote here. “Oh,” I said. “Isn’t he coming to this?”
    “He doesn’t go here,” she said. “He’s in college.”
    “Which college?”
    She ducked her head a little. “Chatham Valley.” The local community college.
    “Ah, right,” I said.
    “K-Dawg!” someone shouted. It was a girl I didn’t recognize; she sat down next to Katie and they started whispering frantically, their foreheads practically touching.
    I pulled out my own phone and fiddled with it, wishing I had a text to respond to, even from my parents. The last text from my dad had been a picture of Frida with a sombrero on her head. The last one from my mother had been a reminder that she was going to be late and I needed to pick up some eggs for her. Cage-free.
    “You meeting that loser later?” the girl said.
    Katie hit her but laughed. “You’re one to talk.”
    “Sean may be a loser but at least he’s got a gigantic…” The other girl spread her hands (Jesus, that was way too far, wasn’t it?), and Katie laughed. That must have been Sean Varniska from my class. I was embarrassed that I suddenly knew this about Sean, that anyone in our school knew such a private thing about him.
    “Hey.”
    I turned to see Asha and Dev standing on the bleacher below mine. I’d never been so glad to see them, or anyone.
    “Hi!” I said, and Asha laughed, clearly taken aback by my enthusiasm.
    “Want to sit here?” Dev said, pointing at their bleacher.
    “Please,” I said. I moved to their row.
    “Guess you’re not a fan of these,” Asha said, sitting down with me.
    “How could you tell?”
    She laughed. “Just a hunch.”
    Dev sat down on my other side. “So why are you guys here?” I asked.
    Dev pointed at a camera Asha was pulling out of her bag. It looked professional. “They let her take photos for the yearbook because no one else is interested.”
    Asha glared at him. “Dev is here because he can’t drive.”
    Dev laughed and