Liar, Liar: Chapters 2–3

I heard her laugh and my heart gave this crazy lurch, and my breathing did a stop-start thing, and I got sweaty, and did other stuff we learned about in Family Life, stuff that marks the moment a male’s physical maturation begins.

I waved casually like I hadn’t just been caught gawking and started to walk toward her to see what it was going to take to get her to be my girlfriend—I am a very goal-oriented guy.

I waved nonchalantly at Tina with my free hand and hoped she wouldn’t notice the sweat stains spreading down my shirt.

I spent every class writing down things I knew about her (she’s got an older brother, she’s on the swim team and she broke her arm in second grade) and questions I wanted to ask her (what’s her favorite food, why does she feel Americans have taken so long to embrace soccer and does the idea of paranormal activity creep her out).

I saw her after fifth period on the sixth step from the bottom in the south stairwell, and after eighth period, when I lurked outside her French class and followed her to the bus line, even though I walk home and don’t take the bus myself.

I’d never had a girlfriend before and I’d never stammered and sweated like that, either, but I wasn’t going to let any of that stop me.

My mother always says, “I worry that I’m raising a future warmonger.”

Obviously, the best approach to landing Tina as my girlfriend would be to study the way generals plan military maneuvers.

I would utilize foresight, bravery, skill, careful timing, reconnaissance missions and the support of staunch allies to show her that I was the best possible boyfriend for her.

I would utilize foresight, bravery, skill, careful timing, reconnaissance missions and the support of staunch allies to show her that I was the best possible boyfriend for her.

I would utilize foresight, bravery, skill, careful timing, reconnaissance missions and the support of staunch allies to show her that I was the best possible boyfriend for her.

This was going to be a cinch. All I’d have to do was make sure Tina knew how amazing I was—without being conceited.

And if by some small chance all of that didn’t work, I’d fall back on what I do best—I would lie. That is, in military terminology, I would employ subterfuge.

And if by some small chance all of that didn’t work, I’d fall back on what I do best—I would lie. That is, in military terminology, I would employ subterfuge.

Things went from bad to worse at the beginning of the school year because my brother and sister were both in high school and I was stuck in that yawning chasm of nothingness, middle school.

After our parents refused to intervene—“Your car, your solution,” they said—I asked Auntie Buzz to mediate.

After our parents refused to intervene—“Your car, your solution,” they said—I asked Auntie Buzz to mediate.

I smiled finally and then went to the kitchen for my favorite snack: a banana dipped in melted chocolate chips. Because creativity, my art teacher always says, must be nourished.

Daniel just kept wolfing down chips. I could tell he was going to need a nudge to see things clearly. Or, at least, from my point of view.

He did a complete and perfect double take. Then he looked at me with huge, shocked eyes. Daniel’s primary character flaw is that he’s gullible.

Our sister is a mogul-in-training and only complains about being broke because she loves to sound dramatic and put-upon.

I said, slowly, reluctantly, “I read an article in the newspaper the other day about the rise in teen shoplifting statistics.”

“She can talk her way out of anything.” I shook my head in dismay. “I can’t believe, though, that Mom and Dad didn’t at least take the car away.”

Just then Sarah came into the kitchen and, as luck would have it, she was carrying four or five shopping bags and looking smug.

“He was all peevish that you always take the car because of your, what did he say? Oh yeah, selfish nature.”

I didn’t bother mentioning that I had manipulated the situation and that he now thought she was a klepto.

“And”—Daniel’s voice was glum—“I’ll have to bum a lift to hockey practice in Derek’s death mobile that reeks of jockstraps.”

And a more upstanding young man than me would have felt terrible that Sarah felt compelled to yell at Daniel...

Before I could answer, Sarah, seething, reappeared in the kitchen. “I’m telling Dad.”

Meanwhile, Dad’s new promotion meant that he was always on a business trip. They’d both been crabby lately. I hadn’t really noticed that until Mom slammed her door.