Perfect Girl - Weebly

your nose, one eyebrow or the other, but he won’t look you
in the eye.” Even though I now know it’s a platitude, I can
only assume she thinks it’s true of fourteen-year-old nieces,
too.
“Perry’s mother also says it’s okay?”
My left eye starts to twitch. “Oh, yes. Yes, she’s fine
with it.”
I have no idea what Perry told his mother but I’m pretty
sure it’s not even close to the truth, the whole truth, and
nothing but. Aunt Marty, being Aunt Marty, handles things
way differently than my mother.
“You’re lying to me, aren’t you?” she says flatly.
“Lying?” (I break Rule Number Two of Effective Lying:
Never repeat the question in a lame attempt to stall for
time.)
“Lying, you know, as in not telling the truth.”
My mind races, darting from one implausible explanation
to another. Finally, I blurt out the only thing that
makes sense: “Yes. I’m lying.”
Aunt Marty narrows her eyes. “Knock it off, Ruthie. I
don’t like liars.”
“Sorry.” I hang my head, having broken Rule Number
Three: Never get busted for telling a lie because it makes
you feel like a total heel. All in all, I realize, it’s less stressful
telling the truth.
“Can I start over?” I ask.
“Please do.”
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