The Last Time I Lied(29)

Miranda latches on to this news like a shark biting into a baby seal. A wicked grin widens across her face, and her eyes light up. It reminds me so much of Vivian that it causes a strange ache in my heart.

“So you were at Camp Nightingale before?” she says. “Must have been a long time ago.”

Rather than be offended, I smile, impressed by the stealthiness of her insult. She’s a sly one. Vivian would have loved her.

“It was,” I say.

“Did you like it here?” Sasha says as bombastic music rises from her phone and exploding candy pieces reflect off the lenses of her glasses.

“At first. Then not so much.”

“Why did you come back?” Krystal asks.

“To make sure you girls have a better time than I did.”

“What happened?” Miranda says. “Something horrible?”

She leans forward, her phone temporarily discarded as she waits for my answer. It gives me an idea.

“Phones off,” I say. “I mean it.”

All three of them groan. Miranda’s is the most dramatic as she, like the others, switches off her phone. I sit cross-legged on the floor, my back pressed against the edge of my bunk. I pat the spaces on either side of me until the girls do the same.

“What are we doing?” Sasha asks.

“Playing a game. It’s called Two Truths and a Lie. You say three things about yourself. Two of them must be true. One is false. The rest of us have to guess the lie.”

We played it a lot during my brief time in Dogwood, including the night of my arrival. The four of us were laying on our bunks in the darkness of the cabin, listening to nature’s chorus of crickets and bullfrogs outside the window, when Vivian suddenly said, Two Truths and a Lie, ladies. I’ll start.

She began to utter three statements, either assuming we already knew how the game was played or just not caring if we didn’t.

One: I once met the president. His palm was sweaty. Two: My parents were going to get a divorce but then decided not to when my dad got elected. Three: Once, on vacation in Australia, I got pooped on by a koala.

Three, Natalie said. You used it last year.

No, I didn’t.

You totally did, Allison said. You told us the koala peed on you.

That’s how it went every night. The four of us in the dark, sharing things we’d never reveal in the light of day. Constructing our lies so they’d sound real. It’s how I learned that Natalie once kissed a field hockey teammate and that Allison tried to sabotage a matinee of Les Misérables by spilling grape juice on her mother’s costume five minutes before curtain.

The game was Vivian’s favorite. She said you could learn more about a person from their lies than their truths. At the time, I didn’t believe her. I do now.

“I’ll start,” Miranda says. “Number one: I once made out with an altar boy in the confessional during Christmas mass. Number two: I read a hundred books a year, mostly mysteries. Number three: I once threw up after riding the Cyclone at Coney Island.”

“The second one,” Krystal says.

“Definitely,” Sasha adds.

Miranda pretends to be annoyed, even though I can tell she’s secretly pleased with herself. “Just because I’m smoking hot doesn’t make me illiterate. Hot girls read.”

“Then what’s the lie?” Sasha says.

“I’m not telling.” Miranda gives us an impish grin. “Let’s just say I’ve never been to Coney Island, but I go to mass all the time.”

Krystal goes next, telling us that her favorite superhero is Spider-Man; that her middle name is also Crystal, although spelled with a C; and that she, too, threw up after riding the Cyclone.

“Second one,” we all say in unison.

“Was it that obvious?”

“I’m sorry,” Miranda says, “but Krystal Crystal? No parent would be that cruel.”

When it’s time for her turn, Sasha nervously pushes her glasses higher onto her nose and wrinkles her brow in concentration. Clearly, she’s not used to lying.

“Um, my favorite food is pizza,” she says. “That’s number one. Number two: My favorite animal is the pygmy hippopotamus. Three: I don’t think I can do this. Lying’s wrong, you guys.”

“It’s okay,” I tell her. “Your honesty is noble.”

“She’s lying,” Miranda says. “Right, Sasha? The third one is the lie?”

Sasha shrugs broadly, feigning innocence. “I don’t know. You’ll have to wait and see.”

“Your turn, Emma,” Krystal says. “Two truths and one lie.”

I take a deep breath, stalling. Even though I knew this was coming, I can’t think of suitable things to say. There’s so much I could reveal about myself. So little I actually want to have exposed.

“One: My favorite color is periwinkle blue,” I announce. “Two: I have been to the Louvre. Twice.”

“You still need to give us a third one,” Miranda says.

I stall some more, mulling the possibilities in my head, ultimately settling on something perched between fiction and fact.

“During the summer of my thirteenth year, I did something terrible.”

“Totally the last one,” Miranda says to nods of agreement from the others. “I mean, if you truly had done something terrible, you’re not going to admit it during a game.”