White Lies (Book 1)

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Freak."

"Psycho."

"Liar."

Yeah. These are the nicknames that I have grown much too familiar with. Only because I had been hearing them from other people since I could remember. It was almost disappointing, really, that people couldn't bring themselves to come up with anything more unique and personalized. A little originality would be nice for a change.

I could tune it all out perfectly well on my own. I'd been so used to hearing their insults that the names and derogatory mutters felt almost comforting. A day spent without being called a scummy freak was certainly a day wasted. Those insults were like the musical track playing in the background of my life – this cheap indie movie life of mine, yielding only middling reviews at the box office.

That, of course, was a lie. Because sometimes their insults drove me crazy.

On my first day of school, I had pretended to be albino.

I mean, I certainly had the skin for it. Pale as snow, my mother says. My hair was light, too. A pale, dusty blonde which ended above my thighs.

I never cut my hair. Could never bring myself to, for whatever reason.

I had worn sunglasses to cover up my blue eyes. That was how I had walked around school, dressed head to toe in black clothing. I had felt their stares as soon as I had made my silver screen debut, wondering if had wondered who the new girl was.

Who was she? What was her deal?

These fancies put a small smile to my face, which I had hoped would make me seem more aloof and mysterious. The amount of stares and whispers I'd received were ridiculous. Like chicken soup for the soul. And I'd loved every minute of it.

Therein lies the reason as to why I lie so much. I loved the attention. The adrenaline was like nothing else. I loved the way that I could make people believe things that weren't true by manipulating the narrative I presented to them. It made me feel pretty invincible. It was the greatest feeling in the world.

Okay, another lie. There's another act I also have in mind, that includes the removal of clothing, which could be appropriately deemed the greatest feeling in the world. Lying came a very close second.

"Are you really albino?" The boy seated behind me had asked during English class.

Since it was my first day, the teacher – Ms. Moore – had asked me introduce myself to my morning classmates. I'd quickly lathered on my best South African accent, and began spinning my tale. I could almost imagine my life in front of me. I had been born to two white South African parents who, unbeknownst to them, had birthed an albino child. Such a scandal had sent shockwaves all throughout my small community. My albinism had been diagnosed, and it had forced my parents to escape South Africa and move to the US. The cultural persecution I had faced growing up, as well as the stigma and danger which followed, had grown too much for my parents to handle.

This was too heart-breaking a tale to face, even for me – a single tear rolled down my cheek, wiped away by a perfectly poised finger. Then the silence resonated.

My story had been received with a few gasps and some wide-eyed, jaw-slaked staring. I greedily soaked it all up.

Now I was turning in my seat, coming face to face with a tall red head. He had been smirking at something that seemed to be deeply funny. I couldn't for the life of me imagine what that thing might be. He had seemed so cavalier, like he owned the world or something. It was only later on that I'd learned the fact that... well, his family sort of did. He was Nathan Ericson. And the Ericson family were the richest family in town. So rich, in fact, that his grandfather of several 'greats' past had been one of the original founding settlers of Alistair.

Yes, I had moved to a town with such a horrific name as that. Alistair. I would've even taken a town with a name like Lowes. Maybe even Barneys.

"Of course I am. Why would I ever make up something like that?" I had asked innocently, still laying on the accent. I couldn't tell if he had bought it at all; his smile only grew bigger and wider.

"Well, I think that's awesome," he'd complimented, holding his hand out. "I'm Nathan. Nate for short. We do that here."

I took his offered hand very carefully. "I'm Jesabel."

"I know," he had then put my hand up to his lips and kissed it. It had felt warm, soft, and entirely too formal a thing to have happened in my nine-thirty class.

"Smooth." I'd grinned, trying to hide my genuine surprise.

He grinned back, and it had felt like I had passed some sort of test. "I know."

After that class, word had begun to spread very quickly that the new girl was an albino South African import. By the end of the day, I was even considered unusual. Exotic, even. Every other student had come up to me and asked me a question or two, and I had answered every one. For a single moment, I had allowed myself to bask in the glory.

That last part was all a lie. Word had gotten around that I was albino, but my make-up world would come crashing down at the point during the day when my biology teacher had forced me to take off my glasses. "Please take them off – school policy." Her smile had been pleasant, but in the way that adults would smile at a disobedient child through gritted teeth.

I put my hands to my glasses instinctively, almost for protection. Would I give myself away so soon? This was hard. Could I continue on with this lie, now that I had managed to convince almost everyone of this exotic version of myself?

Slowly, I had peeled the shades from the bridge of my nose and carefully set them down on my desk, keeping my head low. All eyes were now on me. I'd prayed under my breath that that would be the end of it.

Sadly not.

"Are you sure you really are albino, dear? Your complexion suggests otherwise. You've got some freckling here and there. And those eyes! They're very blue. I've heard of albinos lacking pigmentation in the eyes," Ms. Tenner had smiled sweetly. "Perhaps you're just vitamin deficient?" She'd meant well, she really did. And I immediately hated her for it.

I kept my eyes lowered. I'd felt naked and exposed – and my only defense left had been to keep my eyes averted from hers. My lack of response was all the answer she needed. With a satisfied "right then," she'd turned towards her desk and booted up her class presentation.

Silence. Then my class had broken out in whispers, and the curious, awed stares I'd been receiving quickly turned into bitter, embarrassed contempt. I had been caught red-handed.

Shit.

I really should've known better. It was always going to be the same thing, no matter how many new schools I transferred to.