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Chapter 23— Two Truths and a Lie
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A cold autumn breeze rippling through my red hair. A faint smell of moss and spring water. The scuff of brick and stone underneath my sneakers. The calming babbling of flowing, cold water over river rocks. Quiet. Peace. My eyes fluttered to a close as I took it all in—the serene beauty I’d discovered lying dormant in the little Massachusetts town. I’d found that bridge about a month ago—not long after I’d broken down and told my parents all about Rodrick and Homecoming night. The night that I thought my world was coming to an end. But that seemed so far away now, so distant. So much had happened since then. And yet…
My fingers ran along the rough, sandpaper-like surface of the bridge walls. It overlooked a wide river that ran south out of town. Sometimes cars would pass by but not often. Oftentimes, I was alone on the bridge. And I liked it that way.
A month. It’d been a month since I’d been revealed to Rodrick as the one and only Philadelphia Emmett, lead singer of Anarchy Road. It’d been a month since I told all of this to my parents. It’d been a month since I dropped Mr. Aerodyke’s science class and completely changed my schedule so that I’d never have to see Rodrick. It’d been a month since I had begged Angie to eat lunch with me only in the art room. And it’d been a month since Marcus had visited and given me the news that had changed everything. But the problems hadn’t magically disappeared on their own, not even after it became safe to assume that Rodrick wasn’t ratting me out. Kurt Klein freaked when he found his truck spray-painted. And while the spray paint easily washed off, Rodrick’s graffiti of “Löded Diaper” on the side of the truck had linked him to the crime and landed him in detention. I betted that, at that point, Rodrick was taking his partner-in-crime down with him. But I never heard a word. No call down to the principal’s office. No hallway scolding. Not a peep. And Kurt never even got in trouble for the parking lot egging. I began to take more and more days off of school, taking my schoolwork home with me and feeding my teachers notes about how I had PMS and dead relatives and dentist’s appointments. My grades were good. So, no one seemed to mind that much. The lies just couldn’t seem to end just as I thought maybe I’d reached the worst of it all. But funnily enough, I was finding it much easier to lie now—like the lies didn’t matter as much. Like I was just turning windows into stained glass. But my absences hadn’t gone unnoticed as I’d so hoped. My phone was constantly blowing up with Angie’s texts and missed calls. When she’d ask why I was gone all of the time, I’d give her some half-assed excuse I knew she didn’t completely buy. But prying further meant digging up more lies. Lies I could no longer defend. For a while, Rodrick called and texted and called some more. But just the thought of reaching out to him again made me nauseous. So, I blocked him and deleted his number. A break. Not clean and easy like I’d so hoped. But a break.
It all came crashing down days before Christmas break. Days before the beginning of December and days before I could finally get a little respite. It’d been several days since I’d last shown my face at school. But on this particular Friday, I’d forced myself to make an appearance and a little effort.
The school parking lot was crowded as usual, teenagers excitedly blasting Christmas music from their cars and giving out dollar-store Secret Santa gifts. And as usual, I was hurrying along to my car parked far back behind the stoner minivans and the dumpsters. In my head was a mapped-out escape route that weaved around the jock’s trucks and Rodrick’s van. I followed it with expert precision, each step engrained in my memory from all of the consistent repetition. I was halfway to my car when I stopped in my tracks, taken aback by the sudden feeling that I wasn’t alone. Well, not by myself. I turned around, hoping the feeling was just part of my school paranoia. But I wasn’t alone after all. There across the few empty parking spaces stood Angie. She was prancing my way like some innocent doe in need of guidance. The same innocent doe that I couldn’t deal with. Not like I used to.
“Hey,” she chirped, “I’m glad I finally caught you before school let out for break.”
I immediately felt the beginnings of a headache setting in. Along with any remnants of Rodrick, I’d tried limiting my contact with Angie for the past month. Sure she was around whenever I’d return to school. But I’d felt a natural withdraw occurring in me. Like how a dying dog slinks away to the shelter of under the porch. The less she knew about me and my…situation, the better.
“Angie, what are you doing here? You take the bus.”
Her smile faltered at the gruff comment. “I wanted to see you. Maybe even talk to you. In case you haven’t noticed, you’ve kind of been M.I.A. And we never even got a chance to talk about Homecoming.”
Homecoming? God, don’t remind me.
“Angie…” I sighed, pressing a palm to the aching in my temple.
“Look, I thought about it, and I don’t think you should be friends with Rodrick just because you feel bad for him. He likes you, Jenny. It couldn’t be more obvious. Especially not after the way he acted at Homecoming. I mean, Rodrick Heffley showing up to a school dance and not crashing the party? Unheard of.”
I opened my mouth to speak up, but she cut me off again. “And yeah, he’s probably got one of the lowest grade-point averages of the entire school, but maybe you guys do get along well. I mean, he stood up for you in the lunch fight. Then, you went after him…and you had detention together…” A blank, almost-horrified look crossed her face and she blurted, “Jenny, are you and Rodrick—”
“No!” I shrieked, quickly shoving my hand over her mouth. The high-pitched sound drew the attention of a few nearby teenagers who looked at us from their car windows. I hastily glanced around, shrinking into myself in order to avoid too much attention. Angie’s brow was twisted with confusion and eagerness. But the throbbing headache in my temples wouldn’t allow for some long, drawn-out monologue.
“Rodrick and I are nothing. We’ve always been nothing. You were right about him from the beginning. And I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”
The solidity in my voice must’ve reached Angie because she quieted and gently nodded. “If you say so. I mean, you’re the romance expert here. Oh, I almost forgot to tell you about Jeremy. He asked me out for coffee next week, and I can’t wait! But I don’t even like coffee. And I’m freaking out over so many things. And I just think we should go over some of those flirting tips from before because they really seemed to help—”
“Stop!” I snapped again, this time more callous and exasperated.
Angie’s demeanor instantly shifted. Her shoulders shrunk down as my figure seemed to tower above her. She flinched at the tone of my voice, and every bit of excitement was wiped clean from her face. But I wasn’t through just yet.
“I don’t care about Jeremy. I don’t care about coffee. I’m sick and tired of acting like I have a part in any of this!"
Meekly, she started, “What do you mean—”
“I can’t help you flirt with Jeremy, Angie. And, frankly, if you can’t talk to a guy by yourself at this point, I wouldn’t be able to help you anyway.”
“But you said at your school—”
“I lied! Okay? I lied. I wasn’t a matchmaker at my old school. I didn’t even have an old school. I just—” I sucked in a deep breath and released all of it slowly, “I lied.”
We both fell silent, only the whispers and entertained looks from nearby students keeping us company. The aching headache controlling my thoughts was coming to a head. I wanted so much to dash off to my car and drive so far that Plainview would become nothing but a distant memory. Angie held her breath and held every muscle in her face so tight that only her right eye twitched. She blinked several times, keeping her uninterrupted stare latched onto mine. The heat blooming in my face wouldn’t allow me to catch sight of her hands wringing together or her bottom lip jutting out.
But she inhaled sharply and mustered all of her strength to say back, “I feel like that’s the first true thing you’ve told me.” Angie turned and walked out of the parking lot, disappearing past the rows and rows of cars. And I was alone. I was officially all alone.
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School let out for winter break after what felt like a lifetime of waiting. But I wasn’t invited to any Christmas parties or any late-night fast food runs. The barrage of texts and calls from the past several weeks ceased, leaving a strange hollow feeling in its wake. Each student from Crossland High was out enjoying their holiday. Homecoming didn’t matter anymore. Jenny Tyler didn’t matter anymore. This was the chance I’d been waiting for to break away and live my own way. But instead of feeling renewed, I felt…aimless. The next steps were planned out for me, sure. Marcus had made very clear what this new year would bring for the band. But when I spoke with Valerie over the phone, my voice felt detached from the true me—like it was being cast a hundred miles away. I felt so tired all the time. I would sleep, but the nightmares would always come. In them, I was standing at the bottom of my living room staircase, gazing at Rodrick in his Homecoming attire. But when I looked down at myself, I wore my black punk fishnets and band tees. And I was drenched in a thick, tar-like substance that made me feel so heavy that I couldn’t move. And Rodrick was disgusted, always shaking his head and muttering through gritted teeth, “You lied. You always lie.”
I’d wake from these nightmares in a cold sweat, the heaving breaths centering me back to reality. I’d never get any sleep after those nights.
The cool, corroded strings of my guitar rolled over my fingers, reminding me that it was time for a trip to the music store. The only relief I got from all of this madness came solely through my rituals. My guitar was propped lazily in my lap, my arm draped across the side beside my Moleskin song journal. Lying atop the half-filled page was my favorite pen, Benny. I leaned over my bed and blew out my lavender and vanilla candle, feeling the traces of fragrant smoke barely kiss my face. I was done for the day. A full afternoon of writing mixed with a full afternoon of rewriting and life contemplation could take a lot out of a person. Now, I was hungry. Thank God for that. With all that was going on, I had to allow myself the simple pleasure of food. I refused to let myself fall back into absolute darkness. Not again.
“Nice guitar.”
A gasp escaped my lips. My eyes shot up at the voice coming from my doorway. I had to blink a few times before letting myself believe what I was seeing.
Rodrick. It was Rodrick Heffley. Here. In the doorframe. In my bedroom. Rodrick.
I knew only a month had passed since we stood face-to-face with one another. But he looked somehow taller, more commanding and self-assured than before. Although, the pissed-off expression on his face probably had a lot to do with it.
I probably resembled a fish with all the sputtering and slack-jawed looks I gave. My body had frozen up. My brain was in a state of shock.
What was he doing here? How did he get inside my house? Was this another nightmare?
My brain eventually caught up with the reality of the situation. “What—” I started.
He cut me off as if he’d been waiting for the right timing. “Guess you really do know a lot about guitars.”
And there it was—all of the guilt and shame I’d pushed away for the past few weeks rising back to the top like rotting algae. A wrenching feeling twisted my stomach and my face flushed. But he stood still in his place.167Please respect copyright.PENANAqtZ4FgLraO
“What are you doing here?” I finished.
“Needed to return something.” From his back pocket, he pulled out something shiny and black and held it out to me. My black glasses.
I shook my head at the sight. “I don’t want those.”
“Why not?” Rodrick demanded, approaching my side of the bed and insisting. “They’re yours. ‘Course I would’ve dropped them off earlier, but you weren’t answering my texts. Or my calls.”
No. I’m not doing this now.
I pulled myself off of the bed and set my guitar back on its stand. When I turned back to face Rodrick, I found he still held the glasses clutched in his hand. His face was set and threatening—the same look I’d seen when he’d stood up to his friends for me.
“How did you get in here?”
His eyebrows raised slightly as an answer. “Your parents are nice. They like me, remember?”
“So, they just let you in?”
“Does that matter?”
I scoffed in response, suddenly frustrated with every little thing around me. Why was it so hot in here for December? Why did the smell of lavender in this room make me want to vomit?
“Whatever,” I spat back, “If you came here to fight with me, then fine. Yell. Swear. Shout. I know you probably want to.”
This seemed to only anger him more. “Of course I fucking want to, Jen—” He caught himself, seething behind gritted teeth. “I don’t even fucking know what to call you anymore. Are you Philadelphia now? Or Jenny? Or what?”
“Philly.” It came out firm, exactly the way I’d meant it.
He paused—almost as if he hadn’t actually expected a response. He echoed back, “Philly.”
I wished so much that I could’ve read further into that before his demeanor darkened again.
“All of this is your fault, you know.”
I made a face, suddenly taken aback. “My fault? What are you talking about?”
Rodrick pressed further, pointing a finger at me and craning over to glare at me. “You come to this new school for whatever the fuck reason and just sit here starting fights and feeding everyone lies. Like it doesn’t even matter. Like the people around you don’t fucking matter. You made friends. Like Angie. What about her? Do Angie’s feelings not matter?”
“Of course, they do,” I retorted.
“And what about me then? Do my feelings not matter?”
A pang of guilt struck me again. I couldn’t fully answer. “That’s not—”
“If you would’ve been upfront, I would’ve been fine with it. I mean you’re a rockstar. That’s cool as hell. I don’t get why you had to lie.”
I shook my head, drawing away to the middle of my bedroom. I could feel him right behind me. “It’s not that simple, Rodrick. You think I liked pretending like that?”
“Maybe. I mean, was any of it real? Or were you just fucking with my head?”
“No!” I cried defensively. “Of course it was real…Most of it. I never meant for this to happen. Not to you. Not to Angie—”
He demanded an answer. His eyes pleaded for one like a starved hitchhiker wandering for days. “Then, why? Why did you lie? Philly, please. I just want to know.”
Maybe it was the way he looked at me or maybe it was the way his body kept inching closer to mine. But every move he made reminded me of that night. And my mind couldn’t help but wander and remember the feeling of his fingers laced in mine and his lips on my lips. But those memories were tainted now. Ruined by my own stupid decisions and my own mistakes. I couldn’t go back even if I wanted to.
I shook my head again and wrapped my arms around my sides. “Rodrick, you wouldn’t understand—”
“No,” he cut me off. I turned back to him to notice the vulnerability and hurt crossing his eyes. “Don’t you fucking say that.” He inched forward, dropping his arms stiffly at his sides and speaking to me through a tightened jaw. “All my life, everyone has told me I’m stupid and I don’t know things. I get all the wrong answers, and I make all the wrong choices. I mean, I can’t even fucking read right. But I understand how it feels being on the outside. It’s fucking lonely. And it fucking sucks. But not so much when you have someone else. Someone who makes you feel smart and not completely worthless. Someone who makes you want to live every day over and over again. You did that. For me. So, don’t say I couldn’t understand. Because I do.”
Our eyes were locked onto each other’s, his gaze so pressing and explicit that I had no choice but to hold on. The guilt inside of me was slowly transforming into the same feelings I’d come to realize on Homecoming night. The imperfect notion that we were terribly perfect for one another. And I wished the next part would’ve never happened. I did my best to brush off the weighty stare, passing by him on my way to show him out and saying, “I think you should go—”
Just then, a hand curled around mine and tugged me back in. His hand wrapped around my waist with expert precision. And Rodrick kissed me with a different kind of need. Not at all like before. This time, more sincere and brutally truthful. He kissed me like every cell in his body would explode if he didn’t. And I loved every second of it. Right up until the very end when he pulled away and left me dazed and breathless.
“I don’t care,” he said, “I don’t care if you’re Philly Emmett. I don’t care if you’re royalty or an alien or whatever. But I can’t act like I don’t care about this…care about you.” He smiled and took hold of my hand, stuck between my chest and his. “I wanna start over. We can act like Homecoming never happened…or at least the end of it didn’t. Chris and Ben can deal. We can go back to 7/11. You can teach me how to play guitar.”
Rodrick leaned in again, almost sealing the space between us, but my hand slipped out of his and pressed against his mouth. His eyes fluttered back open, narrowed and confused. He was so warm against me. The smell of Axe and Red Hots had well seared into my brain by now. But I had to push down every bit of emotion and instinct in me to get through this next part.
“I can’t,” I croaked, my voice barely above a whisper. I drew my hand away from his mouth and continued, “My manager came by a few days after Homecoming. Anarchy Road was given an offer by our label. Marcus, our manager, I guess he’s been working with a booking agent or something…I don’t know. They want to take us back on tour and finish the shows we planned to do before I…well, it doesn’t matter. He offered a four-month tour across the midwest set in February. And…um, we said yes.”
I wished I could’ve described the silence that fell over the room at that moment. Rodrick was right there, as close to me as he’d been on Homecoming Night, and yet, he was a thousand miles away. He drifted away from me as if some invisible wave was taking him off to some unreachable shore. His face had gone blank, utterly emotionless save the furrow in his eyebrows. I wanted to reach out to him and say something that would make it all better. But I had settled into the fact weeks ago. I couldn’t be with Rodrick. Not even if I wanted to.
He said nothing. Maybe he just couldn’t. Instead, he sucked in a heavy breath and blinked back at me.
Say something. Anything. Please, say something. Yell at me. Shout at me. Anything. Please.
But I didn’t deserve even that luxury. I thought I caught sight of Rodrick briefly shaking his head before turning and disappearing out of the doorway and back down the stairs, my black glasses hanging out of his back pocket. Moments ago, he’d been so close and so warm on my lips. He had held my hands against his chest. I had felt him so real and loyal in front of me. But now he was gone. Now, maybe forever.
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