Excerpt from CAUGHT IN A LIE
by Sylvia McNicoll
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Sunday I'm so depressed, I don't even want to get out of bed. I reach for one of Julie's magazines on my night table and it flops down to the floor. I pick it up and what a coincidence - it's opened up to a quiz. I guess the quiz pages are right dead centre where the staples are, so it's not a big surprise.
I frown as I read the quiz title: Is Your Boytoy Worthy? Another amazing coincidence? Maybe. Only - let's face it - they have that same quiz in every other magazine issue, just worded differently. I almost let the magazine drop, because really, I already know the answer. Jay fits into the lowest category: Toenail Sludge.
Something makes me pull it back up to my bed. Besides being depressed, I'm really bored. So I read the questions. Maybe knowing all the answers will make me feel better about everything.
It's your birthday and your passionate puppy forgot, so he:
(a) runs out at lunch and buys you some roses.
(b) draws up some coupons, good for your choice of date, movie and dinner.
(c) hides on you at school and fakes a cold when he calls you later.
Honestly, these choices aren't even realistic. How could anyone hide at school? And drawing coupons, that's something I used to do when I forgot Mother's Day. Who would do that for their girlfriend? I know that Jay will score well for (a) - even though he would never dream of paying for the roses.
Your family hosts a dinner and you invite your sugar puff. He:
(a) never shows - says he can't handle the family thing, what with his parents being split up and all.
(b) refuses to make small talk or join in the charades game - basically sulks because he wants you all to himself.
(c) calls your dad Sir, shakes his hand, compliments your mom on everything from her outfit to the napkins on the table. He knows how to fit in and does.
Okay, he's scoring really well on this one. He's definitely (c). Last time he came over, he talked computers with Dad till I wanted to hurl. He ate two plates of Mom's roast beef, which I thought was entirely too fatty. Plus he brought flowers he'd picked from his own garden, not the florist's.
You have to get braces, and when you tell your boytoy, he:
(a) kisses you long and slow, then wonders out loud how it will feel when your teeth are covered in steel.
(b) shrugs his shoulders. It's no biggie, your lips are what's important, not your teeth.
(c) suggests you see other people, that you're both too young to be tied down.
I decide Jay would be a (b) for this one so he's still racking up points in the worthiness department.
You flunk algebra and the 'rents insist on summer school. Your cutie:
(a) has a summer job anyways, so you'll meet later after homework's done.
(b) promises to walk you to school and to be waiting when you're finished.
(c) sympathizes with you but starts scoping for your replacement immediately.
Flunking math . . . summer school . . . Oh my gawd, I never thought of that. I chew at two fingernails at the same time. Is there still time to improve? I can't spend my summer in that hot smelly school. I take a breath to calm down. Think . . . Think . . .
From Caught in a Lie, copyright © 2000 by Sylvia McNicoll
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