Started With a Lie

Chapter Three

          “Ivory?” the reporter says when I don’t respond.

          “How do you know my name?” I ask, my throat feeling like it’s closing up.

          Before he can answer, Karen shows up out of nowhere. “Oh, Ivory, hi. I told him your name. This reporter is a friend of my dad’s, and I just told him the latest gossip. I mean, who shouldn’t know about you and Lee?”

          So it was her doing.

          I fix my expression quickly—leaving no sign of anxiety. I force a fake smile. “Oh, of course, Karen. I’ll answer some questions for you. No biggie.” I definitely wasn’t going to let Karen get the chance of catching me lying.

          Her eyebrow twitches in anger. The reporter moves her aside and focuses the camera on me. “So, are you dating Lee Richardson?”

          I grin for the camera. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

         

An hour passes full of questions and photos. I am driving home now. Larry, the reporter, just asked some questions about how we met and how we fell in love.

          I lied, of course.

          And it felt horrible. I pray that he’s not as famous as he says he is. I pray that if he ever publishes that interview, that people won’t read it in his magazine.

          I grip the steering wheel harder as I drive down my street. I get to the driveway of my house and park my car. The air is chilly and the green leaves of summer have turned to orange and red leaves of autumn.

          Maybe Mom could help.

          “Mom, I’m home!” I yell when I open the front door even though I know she’ll be too busy painting to hear me. I pick up some envelopes left by the door by the mailman and bring them inside. Throwing them on the kitchen table, I go check on Mom.

          She’s in her studio working on some waterfall painting.

          I love her studio. It has baby blue paint on all three of the walls. The last wall has Mom’s own paintings of people’s faces, landscapes, and nature. Every color is painted with love and ease.

          I’m jealous of Mom.

          She has a talent. She can draw, paint, and can make ugly things look so beautiful. Everybody has a talent… except me. I can’t draw, or play sports, or cook. Nothing.

          I frown as I think of this.

          “Oh, Ivory!” Mom exclaims when she notices me. “Just on time!” She ushers me over to her painting. Her face has blue flecks of paint as well as her arms and apron. “What do you think?”

          I look at her painting.

          It’s a waterfall that’s hidden deep within the forest by trees. Birds fly in the distance and the sky is a beautiful blue. Small land animals wander around the trees and the wind blows leaves off the trees.

          “It’s beautiful,” I say. It really is.

          Mom smiles. “You think?” She picks up the painting from the easel and puts it down against the wall to let it dry. Mom wipes her hands off a towel nearby and then turns back to me. “So, how was school?”

          “Great!” I lie. I follow her out of her studio and we head into the kitchen. I grab an apple out from the bowl that is placed on the island counter. “School’s just wonderful, Mom.”