The Cake is a Lie (21 page)

As we reached the station I jumped
ahead and positioned myself on the left so that my blotch wasn’t
facing her. We read the instruction sheet at the station. I was so
nervous nothing was coming out.

I looked over into her dark brown eyes
dipped in midnight mascara. They were eyes made to command. Every
little hair of her eyebrows was chiseled to perfection. Her beauty
wasn’t a wild mountain meadow, perfect as it is. It was a garden,
cultivated and worked on an hour every morning.

Oakley had the best phrases when we
chatted online, like “Hey you.” “Shit’s straight now.” “Let’s
play,” and “Yessir.” I’d steal them all. And then there was her
bootie. Her bubble butt. Two voluptuously curves traced out cruelly
by black leggings. How did I miss it? It def wasn’t this big
before. It was the kind of bootie you get from doing 50,000 squats.
A butt so nice she probably shit candy. Other kids had noticed it,
geniuses. Skinny girls meant nothing to me now. Boobs, cute faces,
bleh. They were nothing compared to a butt. If only I’d known.
Bubblebuttxxo…Oakley just knew what was cool before everyone one
else, she could see the future. I’d catch on pretty quickly, after
it’d been a minute, that was my gift. Being in her presence got me
through all the mundane moments in life.

“
I heard you went on a
humanitarian trip or something over summer.” Oakley finally
asked.

“
Yep…Some of us just care
more, Oakley.” I pulled out my half naïve, half judgmental face
while batting my eyelashes. Oakley laughed. I beamed, god I’m good,
I don’t just function high, I excel high. I’m just
soo
much
better.

“
Hey, I volunteer every
Saturday at Children’s Hospital,” she retorted.

“
Really? No way.”

“
How come no one ever
believes me when I tell them that?”

I paused. “I don’t know, because you’re
super popular? Because you look like a bitch?”

“
Play nice.”

“
You know what I mean,
you’re not at all, you just look like it.” We flew through the
silly safety test. While we waited for the teacher to check off our
station Oakley started the assigned readings for our homework.
While she read, I curiously watched Oakley outline her thin lips
with glossy lip balm for the fourth time. It was hypnotically
feminine the way she did it. She could see me out of the corner of
her eye.

“
I just started Accutane a
month ago,” She said. “It makes my lips so dry.”

“
Isn’t that the dangerous
drug for acne that you have to get a doctor to
prescribe?”

“
It’s only dangerous if
you’re pregnant.”

“
You sure..?” My parents
would never let me take Accutane. “Whatever, your skin is perfect.
What the f, seriously look at it, there isn’t a spot anywhere. It’s
flawless.” Oakley laughed.

“
I get some on my lower
back.”

“
Say it isn’t so. Perfect
Oakley Carter has a few pimples on her back? What is wrong with
this cursed world? God help us.” More giggles.

“
So who are you feeling
lately?” She asked casually while writing a note in her
book.

I let out a chuckle.

“
What’s so funny?” She
turned towards me.

I hesitated for a moment, looking away,
I turned back to her and pushed my head in close to hers, I kept
going until our nose were centimeters away and I was looking
straight into her eyes.

“
It’s you Oakley, I love
you.” Big smiles spread across both our faces. Fifteen minutes
before class ended I ducked out early like I had somewhere
important to be.

We drove without a word, but you could
feel the tension, Eric, Jay, and me. Eric and Jay entered my life
when they showed up to one of Katie’s parties inexplicably with Mia
and Janae. Eric, or “E-Rock” was a prince of sorts, the younger
brother of Jake Freeman. Jake was at the pinnacle of popularity at
Shorewood. A senior that was licensed to talk endlessly about
made-up stories because he threw parties at their dad’s ritzy house
every other weekend.

Jay had been E-Rock’s
best-friend-for-life since 6
^th
grade. In middle school, the
last time Jay went to school on any sort of regular basis, I knew
him as a quiet, taller, curly haired kid with a horrific nubbin on
his ear. Little did I know that he was never quiet, just extremely
cool. I don’t know how I’d missed that look in his eye, that slight
tilt in his head like he was the fucking shit. Girls picked up on
it like radar. Jay played it by-the-book in conversation, most of
his jokes were about making fun of other people, or his friends,
“Hi everyone my name is Marco, I was born with two vaginas.” He let
his tallness and good looks do most of the talking. In a million
years Jay would never make a Facebook. Or text a girl back right
away. And for that people liked him more than me.

At first glance I’d thought Eric was
autistic. Droopy face, boney nose, and big lips. Skeleton skinny,
tall but with a slightly hunched spine. He even had a lisp. You had
to be able to talk yourself out of that, and E-Rock talked socks
off. When he got going, when those eyebrows reached for the sky, he
brought it like a silent movie. Eric I respected.

Jay and E-Rock were giving me the
silent treatment because I’d tyrannically plugged my iPod into my
car when we got in, ignoring their demands and pleads to plug in
their iPods. I was addicted to sharing my music more than any drug.
Well, it wasn’t as enjoyable when I had to force them to listen,
but E-Rock and Jay had powerful personalities and were also
addicted to sharing music.

“
So nasty that it's probably
somewhat of a travesty, having me, then he told the people you can
call me your majesty.” MF Doom’s voice filled the Mercury Sable. It
didn’t help that I had eclectic taste, aiming for different and
better. Sometimes it worked out, just as many times I embarrassed
myself. The silence from the amateur record execs in my car was
louder than if anyone was speaking. Eric had been clamoring for
Kanye, Jay had demanded Tech N9ne. Anything’s shitty if you want it
to be shitty, I thought.

The cul-de-sac ahead of us was littered
with cars. I pulled over behind a chain of three. My passengers
immediately jumped out, continuing their musical protest. I opened
my door, but lingered in my seat for another minute, letting the
song finish while Jay and E-Rock stood in the fall
night.

“
Come on, Marco. I’m
freezing, pop your trunk so I can get my jacket.” I got out. It
wasn’t that cold but under my jacket I was shivering. This was
always the worst part of a weekend. The moment right before
entering the party. Avoiding this moment was almost worth not
going.

Is this the night I’m not funny at all?
That Kace finally tries to fight me? I worried.

Look, you’ve made it farther than you
ever imagined in life, Marco. This feeling will go away and you’d
feel even worse if you didn’t go, you live off the energy of
people.

As we approached the front yard of Greg
Cooks’s house, everything started moving too fast to even worry.
From the group of shadowy figures huddled around the front lawn I
made out a familiar short, shapely form.

“
O.Carter.” I yelled across
the lawn.

“
Marcooo.” We ran to meet
each other across the grass.

I’d just learned how to hug a girl a
few months ago. I mean really hug a girl. Pacey Baker taught me. I
was sitting in my car in the Jr. Parking lot, when “Big
Pacey-Style” strutted in front of my windshield. I took the moment
to study him. Online his username was ScrillaGorilla. I was a
collector of the most popular kids usernames, even though I
wouldn’t dare message them. I’d study their “info” boxes–usually
some song lyric or inside joke–and try and puzzle them out. Pacey’s
info was one, short punctuation-less sentence. “Thugged out since
cub scouts.” I’d mouth over the ingeniously rhythmic words whenever
I saw him at school. As Pacey slowly dipped one foot across the
parking lot, two of the skinnies, Kim and Kelsey, came on a direct
trajectory with him. As they intersected, Pacey halted them with
wide open arms. Kim jumped to embrace him first. But when they
hugged Pacey didn’t just put his arms around Kim, he mummified her,
pulling her into him while tilting her into the air with his waist.
There he kept her, not letting go. He said something funny in her
ear and she started laughing, holding him back tightly. When he
finally let Kim go, Kelsey couldn’t wait to take a turn. It was awe
inspiring. They not only let him do it, they really liked it. I had
no idea you were allowed to hug girls like that.

I held Oakley up on her tip-toes. The
pressure felt good against my pelvic. In the fray my hand had
spectacularly ended up halfway under the back of her jacket. I
could feel the light fuzzy hairs on the small of her back. The
tight pokey fringe of her thong hanging out barely above the edge
of her jeans.

“
Are you leaving?” As I
talked in her ear my lip brushed against her earlobe.

“
Ya, my curfew is
midnight.”

“
So sad.” I was actually
relieved I didn’t have to spend the party worrying about trying to
casually, and wittily talk to her. Jay and E-Rock were heading for
the front door. I had to catch them, I had to be seen entering the
party with them.

“
Next week I’ll try to get
to the party earlier,” I reassured Oakley.

“
Sure you will.” I let her
down and took off without looking back.

Jay pushed open the front door to
reveal a living room packed with people.

We were greeted with cheers, “Jay’s
here. E-Rock.” There was a pile of shoes just inside the door below
a piece of paper that said “Take Your Shoes Off,” in sparkly
marker. Jay and E-Rock ignored it, but I obeyed. Then the
procession of hugs and daps began. Everyone I’d every admired was
there, it felt amazing.

As we went, the natural progression
lead us towards one shaved blond head that stood a few inches above
the rest. Greg Cooks was posted up in a long hanging jersey against
the back wall. Greg Cooks: Former captain of the basketball team
and quarterback of the football team. He’d been scouted by a few
college teams but nothing ever came of it. He graduated last year.
Jon had seen him do a line of coke the width of a coffee table. It
was all enough to make me avoid Greg, except for the most basic of
pleasantries, and you had to greet the host of a party. Plus,
whenever I approached Greg, the Harrison incident was never far
from my mind.

One of Loren’s pet projects was taking
younger guys with potential under his wing and attempting to bring
them into the upper stratosphere of popularity. You needed
something else to do when you’d been on top as long as Loren had.
Last year his protégé was Harrison Bung, a Highly Capable,
all-Honors kid I grew up with. Harrison had pazazz, he wore trucker
hats and headed a clique of straight-edge guys that hung out in the
computer lab making ski videos. Harrison had about every ingredient
it took to be popular besides having a lenient parental unit. But
when Loren wanted you to come kick it, you went. So Harrison went
with Loren to one of Greg’s parties. But when Harrison went to
greet Greg, Greg said, “I don’t know you, I’ve never liked you and
I will never like you. Why would you come to my house? I’m not
playing, leave and never come back.” After that night, Loren
dropped Harrison cold.

I waited my turn as Jay, and then Eric
greeted Greg, “What up fam? Oh shit, what up E-Rock?” Greg talked
with a hint of that gangster twang. He could turn it off though or
go super gangster. The great ones could switch it up.

“
Chillen bruh, your spot’s
poppin off.” Eric using heavy slang was priceless.

“
This is sweet Greg.” I
added immediately after Eric. Greg looked over to me. He was so
pale he was almost albino.

“
Yo, what up Marco?” He said
with a big yellow toothed smile, showing clear pride at having
remembered my name. I went to embrace him. Greg might have been
cocky as shit, rightfully so, but he was still nice as far as I
could tell, a fair ruler.

When the “What ups?” and “Chillens”
were over the hard part began. Now I needed to actually think up
something to say to people. Eric and Jay went off in separate
directions. We couldn’t just chill together, the invisible eyes
were watching. I slowly pushed through the jammed kitchen like an
amoeba, the counters were lined with people sitting on them. On the
other side I saw Ian and John in line for spodie.

“
Yo brohans.” I came up and
grabbed both of them from behind.

“
Sup dawgy, oh man guess
what me and Jon heard today? You’ll love this Marco, you love
gossip.”

I rolled my eyes in response to Ian’s
allegation, but my ears couldn’t help but perk up.

“
What?”

“
You know Jessie
Tongs?”

“
No”

“
How do you not know
Jessie?” Jon interjected, “He’s a senior, gay. A druggie
wannabe.”

“
I got nothing,” I
shrugged.

“
He’s bi actually,” Ian
corrected.