Lucy followed Meg off the bus. She reached out and grasped her arm before Meg had the chance to mumble a half-hearted goodbye and skulk away.
“Are we OK?” She asked.
They’d been walking on eggshells around each other for days. Neither one of them brought up the harsh words they’d hurled at each other at the funeral, but they were still out there, hovering over them, like a steadfast rain cloud, hissing with electricity, threatening to send lightning bolts thundering down at them.
“I’m OK if you’re OK,” she said.
She’d have to shove her feelings for Ian somewhere deep inside her, and never let them see the light of day if she hoped to salvage her friendship with Lucy. It would feel ripping her fingernails out with a rusty pair of pliers, but it would have to be done.
“Listen,” she said. Her hand was still on Meg’s arm. Meg wanted to shake it off. “You’ll do me a favor, won’t you?”
“Of course.”
“My dad thinks we’re going to tour some college in Vermont this weekend. If he calls, can you go along with the story? As your mom, I mean. Obviously, you’re going to be in Vermont with me.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. Ian and I are just going to drive around, you know, in the middle of nowhere. Sleep out under the stars.” She rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t downplay the excitement in her voice.
“You hate camping.”
“Yeah, I do. But Ian has a way of…” she paused, and bit her lip. “He makes the most boring things sound interesting. It’s a talent.”
“He’s gifted,” Meg said, and she saw the familiar old car rattling up to the curb. Lucy saw it too and gave a little squeal.
“Here,” she said, handing her a paper. “I made a little cheat sheet. Just in case he asks the name of the dorm we’re staying in or wonders what we’re eating for lunch. Not that he will. But just in case.”
The front of the sheet and most of the back was full of Lucy’s tiny little script. Meg sighed, amazed at the amount of detail Lucy had crammed in. It was such an amateur thing to do. She was over-compensating.
A good lie was simple, always.
Meg watched Lucy jump into Ian’s car. They kissed, a quick peck, but it still felt like a dozen flaming arrows piercing Meg’s skin. She shoved the paper into her bag and shuffled away.
Johanne was gone. Elena and Zach were whispering on the corner. Elena was trying to be cheerful, but she looked close to tears. Zach just looked bored. She walked past them and sat down at the bus shelter. She wished for a bus to come and collect her. Any bus. It could be heading to Xanadu, or Tombstone, or Tatooine for all she cared.
Flynn came over and sat beside her. Meg’s immediate reaction was to shrink away, but she felt bad and tried to return the exact place she’d been before.
“So,” he said, after a minute of awkwardness. “Ian and Lucy, huh?”
“Yep.”
“I’m surprised.” He clasped his hands together, and they dangled between his knees. “I knew he was into her, but I didn’t think she’d go for him.”
“You knew?”
“Of course I did. I’m his friend. Besides, he wasn't very subtle.”
“I didn’t know,” she said, in a small voice.
“Oh.”
Flynn swung his hands back and forth. He cleared his throat several times before he found the right words.
“He flirts with everyone, Meg. It’s just the way he is.”
“I feel so stupid.”
“Don’t. If it’s any consolation, if things hadn’t have worked out with Lucy, he would have moved on to you. He was interested in you too, I think, but...”
“So, I’m the what? The consolation prize?” She interrupted him. Tears were gathering in the corner of her eyes, and she didn’t even try to blink them back. She’d cried a lot since the funeral, mostly loud, noisy sobs. These tears were different. They were silent, but each one stung as it ran down her red, raw cheeks. It was crying that exhausted her.
Flynn lifted his arm, and, just as quickly, dropped. Meg figured he’d been making a move to hug her, but then thought better of it.
“They won’t last. Ian will get bored, or she’ll get sick of his bullshit.”
“Nice way to talk about your friend.”
“I’ve known Ian forever,” he began. “I’ve fed and clothed him. Let him crash at my house. I’m closer to him than I am to my brother, but I know what he is.”
“An ass?” Meg spat. It felt good to say, though she didn’t mean it. She couldn’t blame Ian. She couldn’t even blame Lucy. It was Meg’s fault. She’d hadn’t thought about what might happen when she something she wanted conflicted with the fake life she’d cleverly constructed. If she’d just told Lucy, from the beginning...
“Have you ever read Peter Pan?” Flynn asked. Meg sniffed and turned to him. Flynn’s a boy scout, Ian had said. A repressed superman. Is that way he was sitting on the bench with her, being so kind? Did he feel it was some civic duty to cheer up the heartbroken girl? She was grateful for it, whatever the reason.
“No. But I saw the movie. The Disney one, not the one with Robin Williams.”
“Hook? God, that movie was garbage. What was Spielberg thinking?”
“I know, right?” Meg laughed. It was the first time she’d laughed in days.
“Ian is like Peter Pan,” Flynn explained. “‘To die will be an awfully big adventure?’ Ian thinks that way. He doesn’t plan or think about consequences, or who he might hurt. It never even occurs to him.”
“Why are you friends with him then?”
“Because he’s Ian. He’s fun. Who wouldn’t want to be friends with Peter Pan?”
“Captain Hook,” Meg said. She wiped her face with a tissue and turned to face Flynn. He met her gaze. There was something oddly reassuring about his brown, unblinking eyes.
“You know what happened to me at Jefferson. You can admit it. You used to go to school there. I know you know.”
“It was horrible what happened to you,” he said, quickly.
“Maybe I deserved it,” she said, and when he tried to protest, she shut him down. “It doesn’t matter. One time, one of the worst times, I thought they’d kill me. I was sure they were going to, on purpose or by accident. I was ready to give up by then, anyway. I’d just had enough. But something stopped them. Someone walked in and spooked them. I think it was Ian.”
“Why would you think it was Ian?”
“I recognized his shoe.” She smiled. After all this time, she still could picture the shoe. “I’ve never seen many grey sneakers like that; everyone wears the black. He still wears them. They have my blood on them.”
“You think he’s some kind of hero, based on a shoe? Oh, Meg.” He put his head in his hands. “I don’t even know where to start.”
“It’s too late anyway.” Meg shrugged. She swiped at the tears with her hand. “He’s with Lucy now, and I think she actually cares about him.”
They both sat there for a bit, in silence marked by Meg’s occasional sniffle. Two buses passed before Flynn found the nerve to speak again.
“The concession job is still open,” he said, nodding to the theatre. “If you want it, I could put in a good word with the manager.”
“Why would you do that?” Meg stared at his face, wondering if he had some ulterior motive.
“It’s just a job.” He spread his hands. “And it’s not a very good job, but it might take your mind off things.” He paused. “And you looked alright in the hat.”
“The hat?” Meg said, before remembering the little old-fashioned paper hat that she’d tried on. “Oh,” she said and felt her cheeks grow warm. She looked up and Flynn, and saw his cheeks were flushed too. She looked away, concentrating on the smashed-in soda can by her foot. She kicked it, and it went skittering across the street, making a satisfying clanking sound as it bounced.
“Hey, did you bring a gun to Jefferson?” she asked. “Is that why you were expelled?”
His nose twitched like a rabbit’s. “A gun? Where did you hear that?”
“Around. So it was just a story, then?”
“All rumors have a little bit of truth in them. I wasn’t expelled. I left. I hated that place. And it wasn’t a gun.” He dug into his bag, pulled out an old-fashioned video camera. “I used to walk around with this, trying to get footage for this documentary. It was going to be an expose on Boston Public Schools. I wanted to show all the bullshit, all the violence. Thought I’d be the next Michael Moore or something. Pretty stupid, huh?”
“Yeah, a bit,” she said, but smiled, hoping to soften the blow.
He smiled back, and carefully put the camera back inside his bag. He found a cd, wrapped in a protective case, and held it out to Meg.
“What’s this?” She said, turning it over in her hands. A couple of dates were scribbled on it.
It’s just footage that I filmed, back before I decided to give up on it.” He zippered his bag and tossed it over his shoulder.
“I don’t know anything about documentaries,” she warned him. “If you want analysis or whatever, I’m the last person you should ask.”
“Just watch it. Or not. It’s up to you.” He rose from the bench and tugged at his baseball cap, pulling it further down on his forehead. The shadow of the bill covered his eyes. “I need to go get ready for the four o’clock show.”
“I’d better get home, too.” She shoved the CD in her coat pocket. “Lucy’s father is going to call, and I have to tell him some elaborate story so she could sneak off with Ian for the weekend.”
“And you’re doing it?” Flynn shook his head. “Lucy’s got to be the most self-centered, selfish person I’ve ever met. I don’t get it. Why does everyone always do what she says?”
Meg watched him walk off, then turned and headed for home. When she got there, the first thing she did was turn off her cell phone. Then she walked over to the family phone and took it off the hook as well. She may not be able to quit lying, not completely, but she was done lying for Lucy.