Liar Read Free Page B

clothes,” Will said, laughing. “Know for sure that way.”
    I hugged my schoolbag to my chest.
    â€œGirl!” Tayshawn shouted. “Boy would’ve guarded his nuts. Hah! You fooled us good, Micah.” He nudged Will. “A girl beat you, man. A girl!”
    Will looked down, saying nothing, and kicked his shoes into the floor.
    I fought an urge to cry. I’d loved playing hoops with them. Tayshawn and Zach were so good. Especially Zach. When you play with the boys and they know you’re a girl they either won’t pass to you or treat you as if you’re too fragile to breathe or they’ll try to beat you down. Whatever way it goes it sucks. Playing as a guy had been so great. They’d passed to me, guarded me, blocked my shots, bodychecked me so hard my teeth rattled. But now Will wouldn’t look at me. Zach had already gone.
    â€œFreak,” Lucy said, walking away. Sarah stared at me a second longer before walking after her.
    Then there was me, alone, leaning against the wall, bag still clutched tight, as more and more students flooded by. I waited till they were all gone. Looking back, I saw the banana peel, trampled, broken into bits, but still identifiably a banana peel.

    AFTER
    I come into the apartment fast as I can, zooming through the kitchen without glancing at Dad, who says hi, looking up at me from his work on the kitchen table.
    I lock myself in my room. Collapse on the bed. My eyes are sharp and burning. Without tears.
    Slut.
    Killer.
    Zach is dead.
    Through the wall I can hear the thud thud thud of the stupid girl next door’s music. There’s five of them in there. College students, but the loud-music one never seems to go to classes. Never seems to do anything but stay in the apartment and deafen us.
    I wish she was dead and Zach was alive.
    I hate music. It hurts my ears, my brain. Even the membranes in my nose. Any music. All music. I can’t distinguish between hip-hop and hillbilly ramblings, between symphonies and traffic noise. All of it hurts.
    The best thing about going up to the Greats is that there is no music there. No noises to make me grind my teeth. Only wind through trees. Foxes burrowing. Deer running. Ice cracking. Mockingbirds singing their never-repeated three-note sequences, each note clear as rainwater. Wood thrushes trilling.
    Beautiful sounds.
    Zach loved music. He couldn’t understand my hate.
    Zach is dead.
    I wish I had my dad’s noise-reduction headphones. He wears them on planes. I like to sneak them from his room, put them on, plugged into nothing, dulling the thud through the walls. If I could, I’d wear them all the time, but I can’t afford a set of my own. I’ll ask for my birthday or Christmas or something. Not that my parents have much money. The only reason Dad has the headphones is because he had to review them for a magazine and never gave them back.
    He gets many things that way.
    Someone knocks at the door. Dad probably. Mom’s coat wasn’t hanging by the door.
    â€œMicah,” Dad calls. “Micah! Are you alright?”
    I have no idea how to answer him.
    Zach is dead.

    AFTER
    The Greats are keener than ever for me to come up to the farm. Dad says they’re worried. They think I need fresh air. They want me to be able to run free. I’m wishing Mom and Dad didn’t know about Zach.
    Ever since Zach went missing the Greats have been calling. This, despite them not even having a phone. They have to ride all the way to the gas station and call from there. Grandmother hates phones. She says they make her ears itch.
    It used to be she would only talk to Dad and keep it as short as possible. Barking calls, Dad said. Now she only wants to talk to me.
    â€œMicah?” she says loudly. Then she starts telling me what I should do. Go upstate and spend time with my family. I don’t point out that I’m already with my family. Mom and Dad are right here.
    She says