Trapped: Caught in a Lie (Secrets) Read online

  “Well, it feels like my pride is already dead. I’m so ashamed.”

  “That’s good. It’s the first step. Realizing in your heart that you are nothing — nothing without God, that is. With God you can become the best person you can possibly be. But only after you put that pride to death.”

  “And how do I do that?” Even as I say this, I know the answer. But I guess I don’t want to actually say it out loud.

  She smiles, tipping her head to one side. “I’m sure the good Lord will show you what to do, GraceAnn. I suspect he already has.”

  I notice the kitchen clock now. “Oh.” I stand. “I didn’t realize it was so late. I need to go. I have a date tonight.”

  “Well, thank you for visiting me.” She slowly pushes herself up out of the chair, groaning as she stands. “Oh my, I’m afraid I sat too long.”

  I walk with her into the living room, waiting as she settles herself in her recliner. “You should probably rest.”

  She nods in a tired way. “If I don’t see you before the holidays, I wish you and your family a Merry Christmas. I didn’t even send out cards this year.”

  I lay her knitted blanket over her legs. “Thanks. But don’t you think you’ll go to the Christmas Eve service?”

  “I hope so, but I told my friend Harriet I’ll have to see how I feel.”

  “Well, I hope you get better fast. And Merry Christmas to you too.” I slip my jacket on. “And thanks for listening to me today.”

  “Thank you for trusting me enough to share. I will be praying for you, GraceAnn. I’ll be praying that you do the right thing. And I’ll be praying that God will lead you.”

  I thank her again before I leave. As I drive home, I wonder if she was more shocked and disappointed than she showed. Does she think I’m a terrible person now? Or has she really seen so much that she can take my stupidity in stride? I do know this though — the next time I see her, she’ll probably want to know what I did to fix this thing.

  I remember what she said about my pride and how it needs to die. And if I want to be perfectly honest, I’d have to admit that I still care too much about what others think of me — and I know that’s simply my pride. It will be painfully humiliating to confess that I cheated. In many ways, it will truly feel like dying. Like the old GraceAnn Lowery, the outstanding scholar, has been put to death. And then … what will I have left? How will I survive that kind of personal annihilation?

  As I park my car, I wonder which is worse: suffering from this debilitating guilt or having everyone know what I did. Neither option feels good. I just wish there was a third option. Some magical way to shake this guilt and save face at the same time. And I should be smart enough to figure one out. However, I’m afraid I’m not.

  . . . [CHAPTER 14]. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  When I get home, I’m surprised to see that someone has put up the Christmas tree. It’s not a real one, but it looks like it is and even smells like it is when Mom douses it with her evergreen spray.

  Several years ago, my parents decided this was a “greener” and safer way to celebrate Christmas. And although I like real trees better, I understand. Still, I’m a little disappointed to see that the faux tree has already been decorated. But I must admit it looks pretty and cheerful in an artificial way.

  “I thought you’d wait for me before putting up the tree,” I say to Mom when I find her in the kitchen.

  “Last year you complained so much about the fake tree that I assumed you wouldn’t be interested in helping.” She closes the dishwasher. “Sorry about that.”

  “It’s okay, and it does look nice.” I get a vitamin water from the fridge, then notice Mom is dressed up more than usual. “Are you and Dad going out tonight?”

  “Just dinner and then shopping.” She gives me a mysterious smile. “Christmas shopping …”

  “Oh.” I open the water and take a swig.

  “I haven’t even seen you making a wish list yet, GraceAnn. And we know you’ve been a good girl this year.” She chuckles. “What do you want Santa to bring you?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.” This is an old game my parents still like to play, but I think I may have outgrown it this year. Also, I happen to know that Mom is wrong. I have not been a good girl. And the only thing I deserve to find in my Christmas stocking is a lump of coal. That’s what my parents used to jokingly threaten me with back when I was little and being a brat. Oh, I never took them too seriously. But now it seems reasonable.

  “Well, I guess Santa will just have to surprise you then.” She winks.

  “You guys have a good time.”

  “You too,” she calls out. “You won’t be out too late, will you? Not like last week anyway?”

  “No. The movie probably gets out around ten. I doubt it’ll be past eleven by the time I get home.”

  As I get ready for tonight’s date, I’m thankful that I can escape my troubles for a while. At least that’s what I’m hoping for. And what better way to do it than spending an evening with friends and going to see a new-release action flick. I know I don’t deserve to have a really good time, but I’m dying for a break from all the turmoil bubbling inside of me. Even if it involves a knock on the head, I wouldn’t complain about a temporary case of amnesia.

  . . . . . . . . . .

  While Mary Beth and I wait inside the theater lobby and out of the rain and wind, which is really starting to bluster, the guys get our tickets. Mary Beth pops into the bathroom, and I’m just going over the snack bar’s menu options, trying to decide whether to go for popcorn or an ice cream bar, when someone taps me on the shoulder. Thinking it’s Bryant, I turn around and smile, but to my horrified shock, it is Dirk the Dirtbag … and he looks a little irritated.

  “Thought you were on vacation with your family,” he says with an ugly sneer.

  “I — uh — I thought we’d be gone by now,” I say quickly.

  “So did you work at the pharmacy today?”

  “Uh, yeah, actually I did. But I won’t be working there next weekend … we’ll be gone then.”

  “I don’t care about next weekend.” He leans forward, putting his pudgy face close to mine. “All I wanna know is did you get the OxyContin?”

  I shake my head, swallowing hard. “I … I couldn’t. I never even had a chance — ”

  “Look, I don’t like being jerked around like this. We had a deal, and I expect you to keep your end of it.”

  “But that wasn’t the original deal.” Why do I bother? Why waste my breath? This guy is a moron.

  “I gave you a break and you know it. I trusted you to keep your part of the bargain. You better not let me down again.”

  Now I see the guys coming toward us. Bryant looks slightly concerned and curious. “What’s up?” He joins us.

  “Just chatting with an old friend,” Dirk says in a syrupy tone. “See you around, GraceAnn. Don’t forget what I said.” Then he ducks into the theater. Naturally, he’s going to the same movie we picked. It just figures. So much for my temporary escape plan.

  “What was that all about?” Bryant asks me.

  I shrug.

  “I’m getting popcorn,” Jorge announces. “Anyone else?”

  Distracted by the urgency to decide what snacks we want to take into the movie, I start deliberating between the warmth of popcorn versus the sweetness of ice cream. Fortunately Bryant gets involved, and I temporarily feel like I dodged a bullet. As I get my popcorn and soda, I convince myself that there’s nothing too weird about an acquaintance coming up to say hello like that. Really, Bryant has no reason to be suspicious. For all he knows, Dirk and I could be old pals.

  Well, in another life and on another planet maybe.

  As we find our seats, I spot the back of Dirk’s big boxy head a few rows ahead of us. Just seeing him sitting there, imagining his smug face, makes me cringe inwardly. It’s like he is going to spoil everything for me. Like he’ll be this horrid dark shadow that will follow me wherever I go. Seriou
sly, what were the chances I’d run into him like this? How was that even possible? It’s like I’ll never escape him. Like he’s going to haunt me and hunt me down until I give him what he wants.

  As the trailers begin, I almost wish I’d just kept those stupid pain pills. What a relief it would’ve been to have simply handed them over and ended this craziness. But not really. Deep inside, I know it wouldn’t be worth it. Miss Julia might’ve sounded old-fashioned and slightly clichéd, but it’s still true — two wrongs don’t make a right. I just wish something did.

  . . . . . . . . . .

  I honestly don’t remember anything about the movie. Well, besides the crook eventually getting caught. I suppose that’s because I related to the crook more than I related to the hero and heroine. That figures. We go for ice cream afterward, and the others energetically discuss and critique the movie, something I usually enjoy participating in, but tonight I have nothing to contribute. Nothing at all.

  “Are you okay?” Mary Beth asks me as we’re in the ladies’ room together.

  “Huh?” I pause from washing my hands and look at her.

  “You just seem kinda bummed about something. Is it Bryant? Do you wish you hadn’t come tonight?”

  I shrug and pull out a paper towel. “No, it’s not Bryant. He’s fine.”

  “I’m sure he thinks it’s him. I noticed his face a few minutes ago. He was watching you, and you were just spacing out. Like you weren’t even there. But I can tell he’s feeling bad, and I’ll bet he’s worried that you’re not as into him as he’s into you.”

  “He’s into me?” I toss the paper wad into the trash and then experience a flashback to earlier today, back to when I was digging through a similar trash can at the pharmacy, desperately foraging for that bottle. How disgusting.

  “You know he is.” She reapplies her lip gloss. “But he’s trying to be cool about it. And you’re acting like you couldn’t care less.”

  “Well … I think I’m just tired.” It’s only part lie. The truth is, I am tired. I’m tired of lying. “Long day at work and all.” Then as a smoke screen I tell her about visiting Miss Julia on my way home. But that just makes me feel even guiltier.

  I attempt to act more cheerful on the way home. Bryant is driving tonight. Not his grandpa’s cool Caddie, but his mom’s Toyota. First he drops off Mary Beth, then Jorge, since he doesn’t live too far from Mary Beth, which hits me as pretty convenient. Finally he’s taking me home. But we drive there in silence. I’m so ready for this evening to be over.

  “I think I’m getting the hint,” Bryant says as he walks me to the door.

  “What hint?” Now I replay what Mary Beth told me in the bathroom. Maybe she was right.

  “I’m guessing you only went out with me tonight because we pressured you into it. And believe me, I won’t do that again.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, standing at the bottom of the stairs that lead to our covered entryway. “Sorry to put you through that.”

  From the top step, I look down at him, and a huge wave of sadness washes over me. What is wrong with me? “No, I’m the one who should be sorry. I just wasn’t myself tonight. That’s all.”

  He frowns, then looks down, kicking a pebble off the pavers and into the flower beds.

  “Really, I know I’ve been acting weird. And I’m truly sorry about that. I was miserable company. But thanks for taking me to the movie.”

  He looks up with a curious expression. “Did your bad mood have anything to do with Dirk Zimmerman?”

  I let out a groan, then just shake my head. I so don’t want to go there.

  “You can be honest with me, GraceAnn.”

  It’s starting to rain again, and I feel bad that he’s standing out there where raindrops are pelting him. And yet it’s not like I’m going to invite him inside. It’s probably close to eleven, and I’m sure my parents have gone to bed. I point to the bench by the door. “Want to come up here for a bit?”

  So now we’re sitting on the bench, and I’m leaning over, staring at my feet and wishing I’d just sent him on his way. Really, what good can come of this? And I feel too tired to even think straight. How am I going to possibly talk my way out of this?

  “I know Dirk well enough to know he’s bad news, GraceAnn. I’m sure you know that too.”

  I just nod.

  “So why was he being so friendly with you? That is, if he was being friendly. It was kinda hard to tell.”

  “You heard him,” I say. “He was being friendly.”

  “Then why did you seem so upset about it?”

  “Upset?”

  “I saw your face, GraceAnn. You were obviously pretty distraught over something.”

  I press my lips together, wondering how I can get out of this. “Well … I was caught off guard. I mean, you can imagine my surprise … that he’d actually come up and talk to me.”

  “It was more than just surprise.” He turns and stares at me. His brow looks deeply creased in the sallow porch light. “Something about your expression was all wrong. Almost like you were stressed or scared or something. I can’t put my finger on it.”

  I roll my eyes. “Because there’s nothing there.”

  “There was something. I mean, seriously, I can’t imagine you’d be interested in a guy like that, but who knows?”

  I laugh. But it sounds hollow and phony to me.

  “But at the same time, I could tell you weren’t exactly eager to talk to him.”

  “No …”

  “So what was going on?”

  I wish I could think of something, anything. Perhaps even something humorous, a way to derail this conversation. But my mind is blank … and spinning.

  “I know Dirk is one of the guys who sells answers.”

  I try not to show alarm. “What?”

  “You know, for kids who cheat.”

  “How do you know that?” I study him.

  He shrugs uncomfortably.

  “Have you bought answers from him?” I say this in a slightly accusing tone and immediately regret it.

  “It’s not anything I’m proud of … but yeah, I tried it once. Last year.”

  I stare at him in shock. “You did?”

  “But I figured out real quick that it wasn’t worth it. I mean, besides being outrageously expensive, I just felt like crud after I did it. It’s not like I have the highest ethical standards, but I know right from wrong.”

  I flinch inwardly.

  “Of course, I know you wouldn’t be involved in something like that. But I suppose the thought ran through my mind.”

  I don’t know what to say.

  “I’m sorry,” he tells me. “I shouldn’t be pestering you like this about Dirk. You obviously just got caught in a weird conversation. And I suppose I felt a little jealous or something.” He gives an uneasy smile. “And then you were acting, well, a little cool. I guess I put two and two together and came up with the wrong answer.”

  “Like I told Mary Beth, I think I’m just tired,” I say slowly. “I worked today. And finals week … and all the studying … and thinking about Christmas. Maybe I’m just a little overwhelmed.”

  He stands. “That’s totally understandable. And I shouldn’t be keeping you out here like this.” He sticks out his hand and helps me up. “Sorry.”

  “No.” I look into his eyes. “I’m sorry, Bryant. You’re a great guy, but …” I don’t know what else to say.

  “But …” He seems to force a smile. “That sounds like ‘See you around, buddy.’” He lets go of my hand and steps back. “And I get it. Anyway, Lowery, it’s been interesting. And I hope you have a good Christmas and — ”

  “Wait!” I grab hold of him. “Please don’t leave like that.”

  “Like what?” He gives me a nonchalant look. Like I haven’t hurt his feelings, when it’s clear that I have.

  I take in a deep breath, knowing I’m going to regret this. “Can I trust you, Bryant?”

  He looks surprised but nods. “Sure. Of c
ourse.”

  I close my eyes and swallow hard. Do I really want to do this? He was almost walking out on me already. What difference does it make if I tell him now? Chances are he’ll really want out if he finds out what I’m like. So why bother? Besides, hadn’t I already decided I was done with guys and relationships and that I was going to put my schoolwork first? Why go down this path if I don’t have to?

  I open my eyes now, prepared to balk and make up some excuse. And yet I see something in his face like he really cares about me. And suddenly I want to talk.

  “What is it?” he asks gently.

  This is going to be completely degrading and embarrassing and painfully humiliating. But then I remember what Miss Julia said about my pride — and how it needs to die. Maybe this is the first step in putting it to death.

  “Do you swear to keep my secret?” I ask nervously.

  “You have my word.”

  I take another deep breath. “I bought answers from Dirk.”

  His eyes grow wider, but he slowly shakes his head with a look of disbelief. “Wow …”

  And then I start to cry. Bryant hugs me, and we don’t say much. But I feel just a tiny bit better. Like maybe there’s a way out of this mess I’ve created. However, I don’t go into any of the details. I tell him it’s late, promising to fill him in more tomorrow … or Monday … or someday.

  . . . [CHAPTER 15]. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

  At first I’m relieved when Bryant doesn’t call the next day. And it’s not like I’m keeping my phone in my pocket. In fact, I’m keeping it turned off most of the time because Dirk has been sending obnoxious texts to me, and I’m getting worried he might start calling too. So I only check it a couple times a day.

  But after three days go by without a peep from Bryant, I feel both worried and sad. I’m worried that he might not be as trustworthy as I believed and that it was a mistake to confess to him. What if he tells someone? Worse than that, I’m sad because I really wanted to trust him. He seemed like someone who wouldn’t let me down.

  Consequently, I’m surprised when he shows up at my door on Tuesday afternoon. I’m even more surprised that he has a Christmas present for me. After I let him inside and we’re sitting by the fake Christmas tree, he explains that his grandfather, the one with the cool Cadillac, had a heart attack early Sunday morning, and it’s been touch and go ever since.