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“Props?”<br />
“You know, setting stuff up. Helping the actors get<br />
ready.”<br />
“Helping the actors? Isn’t that wardrobe?”<br />
Since when does my mother know anything about<br />
wardrobe?<br />
“Um, yeah, Mom. But my job would be to handle the<br />
props that go with wardrobe.” I bite the inside of my cheek.<br />
“On a Saturday?”<br />
“It’s the only time the auditorium is free.”<br />
“They’re doing a play this late in the school year?”<br />
“It’s for next year, really,” I say, looking down. “They<br />
want us to study it over the summer.”<br />
“What play is it?”<br />
“The school play.”<br />
“What’s the name of it?”<br />
“Uh, I forget.”<br />
Sweat beads begin to form on my upper lip.<br />
“You forget?”<br />
“Shakespeare, I think. I just remember them saying<br />
something about the props being, uh, swords.”<br />
Clearly, I have no clue what I’m talking about. And I’ve<br />
already broken Rule Number One of Effective Lying: Keep<br />
it simple. Just as it seems my mother’s questions will never<br />
stop and I’ll be forced to break down, crumble to the floor,<br />
clutch at her ankles, blurt out the truth, and beg for forgiveness,<br />
she stuns me by saying, “Okay.”<br />
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