Lie to Me (an OddRocket title)

www.oddrocket.co

For
my mother who made every day a diamond

My future with Nick Martinez was written in cupcake frosting when we were six years old. The new boy, Nick redefined first grade cool at San Sebastian Elementary. He talked about surfing and water slide parks, played air guitar at recess and skateboarded after school. We were both born August 14
^th
and I learned during sharing that he loved the color orange as much as I did. And if that wasn't enough proof for my young heart that this was true love, Nick was the only boy my age longer and lankier than me. Kids stopped teasing me for being Cassie Long Legs. Suddenly, tall was cool.

So, in first grade when Nick dropped his half-frosted cupcake face down on the carpet, I knew exactly what to do.

"Take mine. I don't want it," I lied. Heart racing, I held out my rainbow-sprinkled vanilla masterpiece.

"What a good girl," Mrs. B., our teacher, purred, patting my head as she cleaned up his mess. "So nice of you to share, Cassandra."

"Thanks," Nick said, grinning. His dark brown eyes no longer sad, he took my cupcake and I felt like I'd won an award. Then he reached for a napkin, wiped all the frosting off and tossed it in the trash. He redecorated using chocolate frosting and tiny marshmallows while I watched my heart collapsing.

"Sprinkles are gross." He shrugged as if this explained everything.

"Yeah, super duper gross," I agreed, watching him destroy my gift. I swallowed the urge to reach out and knock my cupcake out of his hands. I was the reason that Nick Martinez, the cutest boy in first grade had a smile on his face. How could I feel so good and so bad at the same time? I bit my lip and told myself that being liked by Nick was worth a cupcake. It was worth every one of my carefully placed sprinkles.

Ten years later, Nick dumped me two weeks before summer vacation of our junior year with a text message.

Need space. Not U ME :(

The boy I'd loved since first grade broke up with me with a lie. Everyone knows that "space" translates to "let’s pretend this is temporary" and "not u me" means "someone else." Nick had fallen for another girl.

I should have realized in first grade that Nick Martinez would never really want anything I had to offer him. He wanted a different cupcake.

My best friend, Priya Satar, ambushed me in my bedroom and dragged me to the dock at Jekyll beach for some sunshine therapy. Armed with a beach bag full of trashy magazines, SPF 50 sunscreen and super-long beach towels, Priya set up camp for us, taking care to spread my towel out for me as if I were a child. She had one rule. No moping.

"We're too poor for retail therapy," she explained, pulling her long black hair into a lazy ponytail. "We're going to swim, relax and mock celebrities until you feel better about yourself. Hold out your arms." Grabbing a canister of sunscreen, she sprayed me down. The cold mist gave me goose bumps and filled the air with the smell of coconuts.

“You are not burning under my watch," Priya said, grinning.

The truth was, I liked Priya being bossy. Getting dumped by the bonfire at the junior party had not done a whole lot for my confidence. It was supposed to be the kick-off to my perfect summer and, instead, it turned out to be the night Cassie Safire was rejected in front of the entire junior class.

"What's going on with your forehead?" Priya said, pointing to my face. "You've gone all wrinkly and worried. Stop it."

"No, I haven't." I touched my brow. She was right; my eyebrows were knitted together in an angry line.

"You're thinking about Nick," she said.

"Well," I said, bracing myself for Priya's wrath, "I maybe asked my Mom to fire Nick again."

"Cass, you didn't." Priya put down her magazine, the pages already warping from her wet fingertips. "You promised you'd forget it, your Mom is not..."

"She's not going to fire a boy for breaking up with her daughter. I know, I know," I mimicked my mother's righteous tone. "He's a terrible waiter, Pri."

"Which your mother doesn't know because you've been covering for him ever since you got him the job." She turned a page and I looked up in time to see one of Priya's thin eyebrows arch. "You're too nice, Cass."

"I am not." I sat up, hating the word
nice
. It was the word most frequently used in all my grade school report cards and seemed to be the only thing people could think to say about me in my yearbook.
You're so nice, Cassie. Thanks for being so nice and easy going. Without a nice girl like you helping everyone, what would we do?
I hated it. "I'm not as nice as people think. Like now, I'm being mean. I want my mom to fire my ex-boyfriend for dumping me for no reason. That's pretty mean, right?"

"So," Priya said, her voice leading. "What happens when Nick doesn't add up the check right?"

"Ummm..." I knew where this was going.

"Oh, yeah. I remember. You fix it. When he forgets an order at the line? You fix it. When he shows up late? You fix it. I'm right, aren't I?" It really wasn't a question. Priya rolled over on her side, not even waiting for me to answer.

"You're right. I'm pathetic."

"You are not pathetic," Priya said, rolling immediately back over. "You are a good person."

"No, I'm a nice person. Good people change the world. Nice people are door mats."

Priya pointed to our pile of magazines. "Would you please read about a celebrity train wreck to get your problems in perspective?"

I sighed and stretched out my legs, wiggling them in the light. My legs were longer than Priya's, but I looked like a pale alien species next to her honey-brown skin. "You know the worst part about all of this?"

"What?" she asked, as if she already knew the answer.

"It is my fault he's at the restaurant this summer. I wanted to help him. I could have kept my mouth shut and let him find his own summer job, but, no, I had to be nice. And now I'm dumped and Nick’s already got another girlfriend." I lay back down on my towel with a thud. "See? I am pathetic.”

"You don't know for sure there was another girl that night," Priya said, sitting up.

"Let me see." I sat up, counting on my fingers. "Fact. The night of the bonfire, Nick told me he had to go talk with some, quote, people. Fact. He disappeared for over an hour and showed up with what looked liked lip gloss on his face before suddenly dumping me by text."

"It was dark and he told you he was eating barbeque."

"Light pink barbeque?"

Priya closed her eyes and rubbed her eyebrows. I didn't blame her; this wasn't the first time we'd had this debate. She thought I was being paranoid and I was convinced Nick had made out with someone else the night we broke up. "I keep telling you that even if there is a girl," Priya said. "It's probably nothing, because sometimes things just happen between people."

"They kissed, Priya. Kissing doesn't just happen."

"You don't know that and, besides, whatever went down, the girl,
if
she even exists, she is not your problem."

Priya knew a lot more about relationships than me. Her mom was a therapist so her house was stocked with self-help books about healthy boundaries, clear communication, loving with integrity. Priya read a lot of the books herself, mostly because of Jock, her ex-boyfriend. Jock went to the University of Washington and had a nasty habit of drunk-dialing Priya at three in the morning. Priya dumped him for good when he drunkenly made a case for being friends with benefits. I think his real problem was that Priya wouldn't sleep with him. Not enough benefits, I guess.

"Do you think Nick dumped me because I wouldn't sleep with him?" I closed my eyes so I could avoid the judgment in my best friend's eyes. "Not that I want to now but, you know, I might have, I mean, eventually." I wiggled my toes in the sunlight.

"For the love of God, read a magazine," Priya said, tossing one and hitting me in the chest.

"I bet he dumped me for another girl who would sleep with him. A trashy girl with bad highlights and one of those gross string thongs, a purple one that shows above her jeans when she bends over."

"Cass, the real question you need to answer is, why are you so worried about someone who doesn't want to be with you?"

Priya's probably going to be a therapist like her mother. She's so good at asking questions.

I rolled onto my stomach resting my chin on my arms. Letting my dark brown hair fall forward like a veil, I watched a bank of gray clouds moving in quickly from the north. Our sunny day wouldn't last. "How about a dive?" I asked. "Then I have to get ready for work so I can pretend that I'm totally mature and working with my lying ex-boyfriend doesn't bother me."

"That's the spirit. Rise above," Priya said.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm rising.”

I stood at the end of the dock and surveyed the coming storm. I'd spent my whole life on this island watching the weather change. A bank of steel grey clouds hovered above the mountains slowly moving our way. Soon they would wipe away the robin's egg blue sky. That's when I saw RD’s boat for the first time.

It looked like an ordinary old wooden sailboat, the kind with metal portholes and shining brass rails. The sails were raised. A bright yellow spinnaker covered with blue stars billowed off the bow, vivid against the darkening sky. Colors stand out that way when the weather's changing. Everything looks electric.

I took a few steps back and got a running start before I dove into the cold, green water. Eyes closed, I imagined I could dive all the way to that boat.

Priya and I both popped to the surface. "Did you touch?" Priya gasped. Ever since we were little, one of our favorite games was diving so deep we'd graze the bottom with our fingertips. You had to make sure you got mud on your hands; otherwise, you couldn't prove that you'd made it.

"Not that time." I held up my hands.

Priya smiled, but her bright green eyes looked sad to me. "You know, Cassie. You'll fall in love for real someday. I don't think you really loved Nick anyway, not the way you think."

"I know," I said, wishing I believed her. I looked past Priya at the sailboat. Sunlight glinted off the bow in a bright flash. Blinded, I waited for the spots in my eyes to melt and, when I looked up, I saw someone standing at the wheel. I saw RD. He was too far away for me to make out his face, but I remember his shape, the line of his shoulders, the way he tilted his head to the side as he watched the wind fill the sails. He wore black, a silhouette against the blue sky.

As I swam in place watching him, he glanced in my direction. Then he turned the wheel, mapping a course to the beach. I remember thinking that this boat was headed straight toward me.

Seeing RD on the water that day made everything that happened next between us seem like destiny. Like I couldn't have stopped it even if I'd wanted to. Somehow we were meant to be.

"Race you to the bottom," I said. Taking a deep breath, I pushed myself beneath the surface and kicked as hard as I could. My ears popping, my lungs squeezing tight, fingers outstretched, I reached. This time, I touched.

Seeing Nick at the Hideaway on a regular basis made getting dressed for work infinitely more complicated. I stood in front of my closet with the doors wide open, hating every piece of clothing in my sight. My t-shirts grouped by color; sweaters folded neatly and organized by texture and shade.

I was sure Nick’s new girlfriend owned expensive jeans and sexy shirts with ironic slogans. She probably wore skirts all the time and knew how to accessorize. My mom thought expensive jeans were a waste of money and girls should dress their age. Everything in my closet looked so appropriate, so Mom-approved, so
nice
.

"I bet she wouldn't be caught dead in a sweater set," I whispered to myself, yanking a thin red t-shirt with a heart in the center off a hanger. Made of organic cotton, it had this distressed hipster look, which meant it was Priya's, not mine. I'd borrowed it when I spent the night at her house the week before.

"Who you talking to?" I jumped at the sound of my sister's voice. Addie stood in my doorway eating a purple Popsicle. Her lips were stained lavender, making her curly, red hair look even louder. Addie's hair is exactly like my mother's. It's more than a color; it actually screams red. I'm the odd duck, with dark brown, stick straight hair that won't hold a curl. If it weren't for our matching blue eyes and marble white skin, I'd suspect Mom found me in a basket by the river.