Started With a Lie

Chapter Eight

            “I’d love to,” Candy grins. We hug before she goes off to her car and I go to mine. I almost slip two times while I trudge through the parking lot and into my Honda. Blasting the heat up to the highest it can go, I rub my hands together for warmth. Once again, I hate winter.

            I arrive home in twenty minutes—slower than usual because I take my time on the roads. A car accident would be horrible. After parking my car in the garage, I pick up the mail and get inside. “Mom! I’m home.”

            No response.

            Mom is probably working in the studio. I head up to my room and throw my backpack in the far corner of the room. I’ll get to homework later. I fire up the computer while I change into sweatpants and a thick sweater. Curling up in the chair, I check trending topics: Lee Richardson scores another deal. Lee Richardson nominated as one of the world’s richest. A truck hits Justin Bieber.

            Lee’s everywhere. I can’t even flip on the TV without him there. Not even magazines or the radio. He’s on the Internet everywhere, too.

            I scroll over to the second trending topic. The page loads and I see Lee. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets and a drool-worthy smirk on his face. He looks great. I’m glad my actions didn’t hurt his reputation. Almost nobody even brings up it anymore.

            Karen shuts up because she lost. I proved to her Lee was my boyfriend so she hasn’t talked to me since. She doesn’t want to face the embarrassment that for once I had something or someone better than her. It must be driving her nuts.

            Peter has been trying to talk to me: phone calls and texts. He keeps asking if I were actually together with Lee, how’d we fall in love, etc. It’s almost like he’s an annoying reporter.

            I smirk. 

            I never thought to see the day where I’d think Peter—the guy I was “madly in love with”—to be annoying to me. I’m changing.  I can feel it.

            “Oh, Ivory, you’re home.” Mom’s head sticks out at the door. “I was at the supermarket. Listen, I got some groceries—want to help me unpack?”

            I nod and follow her to the kitchen. I grab the groceries and place them wherever they belong. Mom puts away the rest while I make us some hot chocolate. I put marshmallows into our hot chocolates and sprinkle some cinnamon onto mine. Mom doesn’t like cinnamon, but Dad did. We used to always sit by the fireplace and drink hot chocolate together. Another reason why I hate winter—it brings back too many hurtful memories.

            I set Mom’s cup down in front of her. “Thanks.”

            “No problem,” I smile. I take a seat next to her. “The weather’s getting really bad out, isn’t it?”

            “Yes, it is,” Mom replies, taking a sip from her cup. “I hear there’s going to be a storm, soon.” I nod in acknowledgement. “So, where’s Candy these days? I haven’t seen her around for a while.”

            “She’s coming over tonight,” I say, “if that’s okay with you.”

            “Of course, it’s okay,” Mom smiles. “Candy’s like second family. She’s always welcomed here. Just make sure she’s careful of the weather. I don’t want anything to happen while she tries to get here in the storm.”

            “Alright,” I say, smiling. I take a sip of my hot chocolate.

            “Speaking of which, I have a gallery show tomorrow,” she tells me. “It’s in New York City.” I wince. “I’m leaving tomorrow just before the storm hits. I’ll be gone for a couple of days. I need to go to many exhibits. Are you okay staying here alone?”