Мэг Кэбот - Pants on Fire

“Anyway,” I said, reached up to wipe some moisture that seemed to be creeping into my eyes, and turned back to the audience…and the judges. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I am not — and never have been — Quahog Princess material. So you had better disqualify me. Especially because the truth is, I am not a very good example to the youth of Eastport. You see, four years ago, I—”

“NOOOOOO!” Sidney shrieked — so loudly that Dave slapped a hand over her mouth in an attempt to shut her up. He also had to grab her around the waist to keep her from hurling herself at me.

“Katie!” she yelled, though her voice was muffled behind her boyfriend’s hand. “Don’t!”

I said, “Sorry, Sid,” and turned back to the judges. The tears were flowing freely now. There was nothing I could do to hold them back.

“The truth is,” I went on, “I shouldn’t be named Quahog Princess, because four years ago, I did something — something I really, really regret. I spray-painted—”

“EEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!” shrieked Sidney.

“—the wordsTommy Sullivan is a freak across the outside of the newly erected gymnasium wall of Eastport Middle School.”

The gasp that went through the audience this time had to have been heard all the way to outer space — or at least to Manhattan — it was so loud.

Although I myself barely heard it, because by that time I was sobbing so loudly, I couldn’t even hear myself speak.

“It was me,” I cried. “I acted alone. And I am really, really sorry.”

The minute I said I’d acted alone, Sidney shut up.

My mother, on the other hand, could be heard letting out a keening sound all her own. No doubt because I’d just admitted something that was going to cost my family thousands of dollars.

Good thing I’ve got a job.

The judges blinked up at me wordlessly…as did Coach Hayes. His wife had already sunk down onto the piano bench, and was fanning herself with her index cards, looking as if she might pass out. Mr. Gatch, in the last row, was gleefully scribbling something down in a notebook he’d brought with him.

Beside him, Tommy Sullivan — the person whose reaction to what I’d just admitted mattered most to me — seemed to be frozen, just sitting staring at me. I stared back through my tears. It was almost, in that moment, like there was no murmuring audience between us, no park around us, no parents freaking out about the cost of sandblasting an entire wall, no brother spazzing that his sister had just said she hates the team he’d only that day been selected to play on, no restaurateur groaning that I had just said I hate their main dish.

It was like it was just me and Tommy. The way it probably should have been. If I’d been true to myself, four years earlier.

“I’m sorry, Tommy,” I said into the microphone, the tears dripping down off my chin and splashing onto my poofy pink skirt. “I didn’t want to do it. I know that sounds stupid, considering…well, that I did it anyway. But I just…well…” I shrugged. I could barely see him, the tears were coming so thick and fast now. “Never mind.”

I looked over at Sidney, who was still being restrained from killing me by her boyfriend.

“Wow,” I said to her, reaching up to wipe away the worst of the tears with the back of my hand. “Thanks, Sidney. I feel so much better. Love really does rejoice in the truth.”

Then I said, “Sorry to have ruined your pageant, everybody,” to the judges and the audience. “I’ll just be going now.”

And then I dropped my microphone, lifted up my poofy pink skirt, and leaped from the stage.

And ran for my bike for all I was worth.

“So,” Jill said, as we sat on the railing overlooking the water. “You and Seth are really broken up?”

“He asked for his letter jacket back,” I said, keeping my gaze on my sneakered feet.

Shaniqua inhaled sharply. “Harsh!”

“That’s okay,” I said with a shrug. “I think I need to take a little vacation from boys for a while.”

Jill wrinkled her nose. “They’re not all they’re cracked up to be,” she assured me. “You’ll see. Try living with one.”

“I do,” I said. “My brother, Liam — who’s embarrassed to be seen with me now, by the way. Because I dissed his precious team…in front of his coach.”

“I’m not talking about brothers,” Jill said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, I guess maybe a boyfriend’s feet stink less than a brother’s do.”

“I wouldn’t saythat,” Jill said.

And just then some tourists walked up, so she had to go grab some menus and escort them to a table.

“So were your parents really mad?” Shaniqua wanted to know.

“About the seven grand they have to pay the school for the sandblasting?” I laughed. “Oh, yeah, they were thrilled. I’m grounded from now until graduation. I’m only allowed out for work, and I have to hand every penny I earn over to them until I’ve paid them back.”

“What about your camera?” Shaniqua cried.

I shrugged again. “Hasta la vista, baby,” I said. I hoped she didn’t notice the tremor in my voice. Also that Mr. Bird wouldn’t be totally crabby about giving me my sixteen hundred bucks back. Along with everything else, I’d come clean to my parents about the camera, too. I’d become a veritable truth-telling geyser, as a matter of fact.

“That’s not fair,” Shaniqua cried, about the camera. “You spray-painted the school so long ago! And you never would have gotten caught if you hadn’t turned yourself in.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Well, they don’t exactly see it that way. Although my mom understands. I think. A little.”

My mom had certainly been the one who, coming home from the pageant to find me already in bed, crying as if my heart were breaking (because the truth is, I think it was), had sighed and put her arms around me and told me nothing was ever as bad as it seemed. She’d even said she was proud of me for telling the truth…though she wished I hadn’t chosen to tell it in such a public venue.

And when Liam had come in and wanted to know if he could go live at his friend Chris’s house, because he didn’t think he could bear the stigma of being the brother of Katie Ellison, Quahog hater, my dad was the one who sent him to his room.

Still. Maybe things reallywould be all right. I mean, who needed friends? I had Shaniqua and Jill.

And God knew I didn’t need a boyfriend. I’d had enough to last me a lifetime.

Besides, they don’t let you have boyfriends in the Episcopalian convent. If such a thing even exists.

Fortunately, Peggy hadn’t even been that upset about the quahog thing. When I’d come in to work the brunch shift the morning after the pageant debacle (the guy who normally works had called in “sick,” suffering, no doubt, from too much Eastport Towne Fair the night before, and since I was more desperate for cash than ever, I’d agreed to cover), she’d merely shaken her head at me and said, “Remind me never to sponsor another employee for anything ever again. Now go mop under the steam tables.”

Which was nice of her. For someone who’d just wanted to get rid of Old Man Trouble, I’d sure landed myself in a heap of it anyway.

And, I mean, that’s okay. A liar like me doesn’t deserve friends. A year in social Siberia will teach me a valuable lesson about telling the truth — not just to others, but to myself as well.

And then maybe, after graduation, if I can’t find a convent that will take me, I’ll just head off to college — an all-women’s college, of course — and start over.

So when Jill whizzed past me around two o’clock and said, “Quahog alert,” I was pretty startled. Especially when I looked over and saw Sidney and Dave — with Eric and Morgan behind them — standing at the hostess booth.