Little White Lies (12 page)

I WAS AWAKE WHEN THE SUN CAME UP THE
next morning. I'd tossed and turned for a long time the night before and had finally dozed off. But before I'd fallen asleep, I'd managed to remind myself that every lie I told was in everyone's best interest. And they weren't lies, really … just little white lies. Harmless.

I crawled out of bed, got dressed, and grabbed my backpack. I scrawled a note for Paige telling her that I was going to the library and if she wanted to come, she should text me.

Paige didn't even roll over when I tiptoed out the door and shut it softly behind me. The benefit of not being able to sleep—I was awake early and could get my homework out of the way.

I took the long way across campus and passed the
courtyard. Clear water flowed over the stone fountain and made soothing sounds. I saw flashes of orange, white, red, and black as the koi darted around in the small pond near the edge of the courtyard. As I walked, I flashed back to scenes from the last day of school—Eric kissing me goodbye for the summer. The way he smiled when he promised to keep in touch with me. Then, Jacob. Apologizing, asking me for another chance.

I looked away and focused on the sidewalk. There were too many ghosts in the courtyard.

Deciding to be lazy, I took the elevator up to the top floor of the library—the quietest floor where no one wanted to go because it was where the most of the antique books were and it smelled kind of musty.

That's exactly why I wanted to go—no one else would be around.

I walked through the rows of books and ran my fingers along some of the spines. Whispers came from the other side of the shelf and I stopped, trying to keep my shoes from squeaking on the floor.

“… such a … and it was embarrassing.”

It was Jasmine. I almost stopped breathing as I tried to hear what she was saying.

“She should have known … and she still came back to Canterwood after YENT camp,” Jas continued. “If only you'd seen … messed up. I don't even have to … Sasha will get herself kicked off the YENT.”

I gritted my teeth, trying not to cry. But tears blurred my vision—Jasmine couldn't have hurt my feelings more if she'd tried. I was still sensitive about YENT camp. I felt tears roll down my cheeks and, turning on my heel, I walked down the aisle before Jasmine and whomever she was talking to—probably the Belles—heard me.

I hurtled down the stairs and slammed open the door to the second floor stairwell. I almost smacked straight into someone, but I was too upset to even bother looking up or apologizing. I kept walking toward the stairs.

“Sasha. What's wrong?” Jacob grabbed my upper arm, stopping me from going out the door. His green eyes were locked on my face. I'd never seen him look so concerned.

“Jacob.”

At that moment I didn't care if we were “supposed” to be talking, if it was wrong for me to be here with him, or if I was sending mixed signals by pushing him away one minute and talking to him now. I leaned against him, crying.

He lowered me gently to the bottom of the stairs and let me cry against his shoulder, rubbing my upper back. I
sobbed until I started to hiccup, then sat up and swiped my hand across my eyes.

“I'm so sorry,” I whispered. “I shouldn't have done that. I keep—”

“Sasha,” Jacob said. “That's the last thing I care about right now. Tell me what happened.”

I clutched my hands in my lap. “I just overheard Jasmine talking about how badly I messed up at YENT camp.”

Jacob shook his head. “I'm sure if you messed up at all—she was just exaggerating to make herself feel better.”

“No, she was right. It was awful. We were jumping one morning and I got so intimidated by the other riders that I couldn't concentrate. Charm got confused and knocked three rails in a row.”

“I'm sorry,” Jacob whispered. “That's tough.”

My phone vibrated and I pulled it out to check the caller ID.
Paige.

“It's Paige,” I said. “I'll call her back in a sec.”

I looked up from my phone to Jacob. Here he was, sitting here and listening to my problems from last summer. I'd ignored him that entire time, unable to even talk about what happened between us in the courtyard. But he was here now when I needed him.

“I haven't been able to shake it yet. I was sure I'd get sent home. But all of the instructors worked with me—I guess they thought I had potential.”

“You do,” Jacob said, not hesitating. “And you don't give yourself enough credit. You're a talented rider, Sash. You have to stop comparing yourself to everyone else. Who cares what they do? You and Charm are special—you're a team. Does
any
other rider here have a bond with her horse like you do with Charm?”

We were both quiet for a minute. I stared at my lap.

“Do you know how insecure
I
am every time I step on the track field?” Jacob asked.

I shook my head.

“I feel like I'm going to throw up before every race. The guys, even the ones on my team, talk trash about one another. I know I can't let them get inside my head when I run. You just have to block it out.”

“Really?” I asked.

He nodded. “Everyone gets nervous around competition.”

“Thank you,” I said after a couple of minutes. “I needed to hear that.”

Jacob's face changed from sympathy to anger. “And you know the only reason Jas is trash-talking you is because
she's worried. If she didn't think you were worth it, she wouldn't even bother talking. She'd just ignore you.”

“You think?” I asked.

“I know. She sees
you
as competition. She knows you're good, but she also knows how to get you upset. Figure out how to handle her—I know you can.”

I stared to lean over to hug him, but stopped. “Thanks,” I said. “You're right. I'll totally figure out a way to handle Jas.”

Jacob turned his head to me and our eyes met. I took a breath and something told me I needed to go. I got up from the stairs and looked back at him as I pulled open the door. “Bye,” I whispered.

I left him in the stairwell and the door shut between us. I walked out of the library, blinking in the strong sunlight.

“Hey!”

I looked up at Paige as she walked toward me, carrying her pink and purple binder and a book bag.

“Hi,” I said, smiling. But I knew there was no way Paige would miss the fact that I'd been crying.

“I called you to say I was coming to study too,” Paige said. “But when you didn't—” She stopped in front of me. “Omigod, what's wrong? Did something happen?”

I rolled my eyes, sighing. “Yeah. Jasmine, of course. I'll tell you, but can we go somewhere else to study? She's in the library.”

“Of course!” Paige linked her arm through mine. “How about we grab a back room at the media center? We can totally reward ourselves with TV breaks while we study.”

“Love it.”

We walked away from the library and headed for the media center.

“So,” I started. “I was walking through an aisle and I heard Jasmine talking. She was telling someone—probably one of the Belles—about how horrible I was at YENT camp.”

Paige huffed. “
What?!
A: That's not true. And B: She sure spends a lot of time talking about you for someone who's not worried about you as competition.”

“That's what J—” I stopped myself midsentence.

“What?”

“Nothing. I was just saying that's what Jasmine wants. You're right. Thanks,” I said. “I shouldn't have even reacted to her. I'm over it now. Let her say what she wants. Who cares?”

Paige nudged me with her upper arm. “Don't just
say
that though. Believe it. You
know
Jas's game. She attacks
you for not having the fancy training she had. You're a great rider, Sash, and she knows it.”

I smiled at Paige. “I think after the media center, I might owe my BFF a brownie.”

“The BFF will gladly accept. And BTW, if I ever call you when Jas is trashing you, just hand the phone to her. I'll take care of it.” Paige gave me an I'll-totally-fight-her-for-you face.

We laughed, but I felt the familiar churn of guilt in my stomach. If I'd given away the phone when Paige had called, she would have been talking to Jacob—not Jasmine.

I HADN'T LOOKED AT JACOB ONCE SINCE
drama class had started. I wanted to, but it felt disloyal to Eric. I hadn't even told Eric anything about my Jasmine-related meltdown. I just hadn't wanted to talk about it again.

We waited on stage for Ms. Scott to give us instructions. Behind us, two banquet tables were covered with tablecloths.

“Hi, class,” Ms. Scott said as she walked onstage. “I hope you're all ready for a game that's going to test your memory. I'm going to pair you up, then we'll get started.”

Ms. Scott assigned partners and Heather and I ended up together.

“I'm going to own this,” Heather said.

“You don't even know what the game is,” I said. “You really want to say that?”

Heather snorted. “Uh,
yeah
.”

“All right,” Ms. Scott said. “You're each going to take turns testing each other. One of you will walk up to the table and when your partner pulls off the tablecloth, you've got one minute to memorize the items on the table. After a minute, turn around and your partner will give you a pen and a sheet of paper. You'll have two minutes to write down as many objects as possible.”

Heather and I were both going to be good at this. Years of memorizing jump courses would definitely help us here.

“Then, you and your partner will count up the items. Go to a different table and switch roles. When you've both completed the exercise, come back to center stage. This is a memory-training exercise that will be useful when you start to memorize lines. After we finish the game, we're going to go over the chapter you read last night and talk about memorization techniques that actors use.”

We all took pens and paper from Ms. Scott, then wandered off to a table. Heather and I reached one of the tables first. I waved a hand at her, motioning for her to
go first. “Since you're so sure you're going to win,” I said, “you should go first.”

Heather tossed her hair and moved in front of the table. “Tell me when to start.”

I watched the clock on the wall and at just the right second, I pulled off the tablecloth. “Go!”

Heather's eyes flickered over the table and her intense gaze seemed to take in every object.
Spoon. Hair clip. Ring. Ear buds.

“And … stop,” I said a minute later.

Heather turned around and I handed her a pen and piece of paper. She scribbled down answers as I watched the clock for two minutes.

“Time,” I said.

She handed me her paper and we started counting the items. “Twenty-six out of thirty,” I said after we'd tallied them up. “Good job.”

We waited for a different table to be free, then it was my turn. Heather glanced at the clock. “Okay, now,” she said, pulling off the tablecloth.

I started at one end of the table and worked my way across.
Pen. Earring. CD. Sticky note. Flash drive. Scissors.
I ran through the items in my head. I said them faster and faster, trying to take in as many as I could.

“Stop,” Heather said.

I turned away from the table and took the pen and paper from Heather. I wrote as fast as I could—
lip balm, keys, postcard.

I kept writing until Heather told me to stop. Heather started counting my items. “Twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five …” She looked at me. “Twenty-five.”

I shook my head. Twenty-five. One away from tying with Heather.

I pretend-bowed to her. “Nice.”

Heather grinned. “As if you ever had a shot.”

We walked to center stage and waited for the rest of the pairs to finish.

“How did everyone do?” Ms. Scott asked.

“I memorized more objects than my partner,” Heather bragged.

By one!
I wanted to interject. But whatever.

“And how did you approach memorizing the objects?” Ms. Scott asked. “Tell us your technique.”

Heather paused, probably not wanting to give away her secret. “I looked at the entire table and said all of the objects in my head as fast as I could, over and over.”

Ha! We totally had the same technique.

Ms. Scott knelt down to sit cross-legged on stage with
us. “Do you all think that would be a useful technique for memorizing lines?”

“Probably,” Jacob said. Everyone turned to look at him. “I think repeating it helps. Maybe not as fast for lines, but I couldn't just read something one time and have it memorized.”

“Me neither,” I added. “I did the same thing as Heather.”

We talked about technique for a few more minutes, then Ms. Scott went over the assigned reading from the last class.

“Thanks, guys,” Ms. Scott said. “Remember to study for the history of theater quiz for next class. See you then.”

I walked with everyone else off stage and grabbed my book bag from my seat.

“Cool class,” Jacob said.

I turned to him. “Yeah. It is.”

We smiled at each other.

My phone buzzed and I checked the screen—Eric. I answered. “Hey, what's up?”

“You want to meet at the Sweet Shoppe later?” he asked.

“Sash, I've gotta go,” Jacob said. “Talk to you later.”
I tried to cover the phone with my hand, but it was too late. Jacob stepped around me.

“Who was that?” Eric asked.

“Oh, a guy from my theater class,” I said. “The Sweet Shoppe sounds great. Text me later!”

I clicked my phone shut before Eric could say another word.

“How was theater?” Callie asked in math class. “It sounds like such a cool elective. If Website Design hadn't been offered, I definitely would have taken it.”