The Cake is a Lie Read online

  As the group continued to debate how exactly they were going to split and pour the alcohol into water bottles, depending on who paid what, I inconspicuously slid one of the half gallons through my legs and pulled it up behind my back.

  “Marco, what are you doing?” Jeff asked annoyed.

  “Who…me? Nothing, I just forgot something I gotta do… in the Kitchen,” I said innocently as I back up a few steps towards the door.

  “What are you doing with that half gal, Marco?”

  I bolted halfway down the hallway before stopping in hysterics and turning around to submit myself. Jeff and Justyn had come running after me, like police they guided me back into the room.

  Everyone kept arguing and soon one of the half gallons mysteriously disappeared again.

  “Marco…Do you have one of the half gals under your shirt?” Jeff asked, way over aggressively.

  “I didn’t see nothing man, I did put on a few pounds recently though, thanks for being a d about it.”

  They grabbed me again, but Justyn laughed.

  Finally Justyn took the high road and said to Jon, “Whatever dawg, I don’t even care anymore, you take one half gal and me, Marco and Ian will take one.”

  “Thank god.” I shouted, “What a classy move, this guy man, this guy…” I pointed my finger at Justyn for emphasis. Jon glared at me.

  I immediately reach behind Jeff, where the half gallons had been positioned to keep me away. Theatrically, I grabbed one by the long neck, twisted off the top and took a big swig, as if to say “finally.”

  “So it’s like that?” Justyn taunted me. “You’re just gonna hit it, no chaser, leaving me your germs on the top. You think you’re real bad doing me like that huh, Caldirolis?”

  “Hell ya, I’m bad, you know I’m bad, I’m real bad,” I said in-between pre-laughs at my own joke.

  “Well hit it again then bad boy.”

  “You read my mind Justyn, I was just about to hit it again. I was just literally thinking, ‘aw man I gotta get me a taste of that sweet, sweet juice one more time.’” I swigged the gallon again, longer, longer. I didn’t even taste it amongst the mixture of embarrassment, excitement and awkwardness.

  “Check out this goofy motherfucker,” Justyn said, looking to the group.

  “I just got this unquenchable thirst, Justyn. Daddy’s sorry kiddos, he’s just got this real, real bad unquenchable thirst.” Fighting back my laughter I put the bottle to my lips one more time.

  The warmth was coming on strong in my stomach. Now that phase one was over it was time for dreaded phase two. That night Ian was throwing the coolest party ever, Jonsen was coming, Loren and the sophomores were coming. There was only one problem, I’d promised Avi I’d get him into the party. He’d even secretly put up money on the half gallon through me.

  I followed Ian into his room, he was on the phone, his phone was blowing up. I waited patiently for him to finish. I was swaying back and forth, I felt like I just aced five math finals.

  “Look, Ian, I know you don’t like Avi, cause he’s kinda nerdy and goofy and people say he’s gay.”

  Ian looked at me like “what are you talking about?” he didn’t deny it either though.

  “But I PROMISED him he could come to your party and please man, like please, is it okay if he comes?”

  Ian deliberated.

  “Come one man, please, he’s funny, he’s like soo funny.”

  “Ya sure.”

  “Thank you. THAnk you.” I jumped onto him hugging him. He laughed while pushing me off. I scampered off to find the half gallon again.

  I ran downstairs and hopped on top of a tall stool in front of Ian’s kitchen’s prestige island counter. Ian’s was a bona fide dream house. Granite counter tops, sheik furniture and couches, a huge T.V. Two gorgeous upstairs bedrooms. And Ian’s mom worked nights in the food industry so the entire castle was left under the supervision of Ian’s brother, Dan, a senior at Shorewood.

  A plate of Ian’s mom’s leftovers was sitting in front of me, some unbelievably good mushroom dish. I knew Ian wouldn’t touch it so I started gobbling it down. Ian’s mom, Betty, liked me. I’d grown on her. Betty was one of those people that wore their cynicism like a badge and she got a real kick out of me.

  “This is the best left over pot roast I’ve ever tasted, Betty, seriously I’m not lying, look at my face, Betty. This is what perfection looks like.”

  “Uh huh, sure Marco,” she’d say. She could tell a good, smart positive influence on her son when she saw it. I was one of his few friends she let spend the night while she was working.

  Across from me, lined up in front of the fridge, were six inquisitive eyes attached to three pristinely mannered bodies, standing in their comfort zone an extra foot or two away from me. Katie, Carol and Kristine. Three of “the skinnies.” The skinnies were a group of six sophomore girls. As you might guess none of them were fat, but they weren’t twigs either, so I didn’t get the nickname. I wasn’t a fan of the label because I knew girls were especially sensitive to commercialism and self-image issues. Duncan’s flawless, captain of the cheerleading team girlfriend refused to take her shirt off during sex. They’d been dating a year and he’d never seen her breasts. But when something is said enough times it just is. And they were the skinnies.

  They’d snuck out from Katie’s and walked nearly three miles to get to Ian’s. They were still wearing their nice winter jackets. On the other side of me, Jonsen’s lounging against the counter making margaritas. Katie’s blondish hair was long and parted across her forehead from the far right side so it made her look smart and goody-goody. When Carrol wasn’t laughing and snorting she looked like an Asian queen, long black shiny hair, skillfully plucked eyebrows and perfect teeth. The only problem was that she was always saying goofy things, so she was always laughing and snorting. Kristine’s boyish facial features all blended together blandly, she was just a plane Jane. [10]

  Everyone was watching me eat. The ice in the room hadn’t been broken yet.

  “So Carrol,” I started out in a trickster-ish silly tone.

  “Did you know that Jonsen is into Asian girls...?”

  Jonsen shots me an angry look like, what are you doing?

  I flashed him a reassuring, I got this look. Jonsen rolled his eyes like oh no, how many times has Marco given me the ‘I got this’ look.

  “It’s true, Carrol, since the day he was born. His nurse must have been Asian or something.”

  “It’s true, I do love petite… small… Asian girls.” Unashamedly, Jonsen described his feelings. “I just can’t get enough, they make me goo crazy.” With this exclamation Jonsen hugged and shook himself like he was in a strait jacket.

  [10] JK Kristine.

  Carrol started laughing hysterically. Katie and Kristine started laughing at how hard Carrol was laughing–not at my reckless comment or Jonsen’s T.M.I. follow up.

  “Carrol…Carrol!” I called her back to attention. “What’s your favorite type of cake, Carrol?”

  Then I waited just long enough for everyone to be puzzled, but not long enough for her to answer.

  “Is it white cake Carrol? It’s white cake isn’t it, Carrol. Admit it.” I got Jonsen on this one, he broke out laughing. Once I got him, the rest fell like dominos.

  “I do love white cake.” Carrol finally answered teasingly.

  “Dude that’s racist, Carrol. You’re straight racist.” I was in a joke zone at this point.

  “I’m a quarter Asian, did you know that? I’m seriously offended right now.”

  “No you’re not.” Carrol blurted.

  “You wanna know my favorite desert, Carrol…? My favorite desert is black liquorice.”

  “I didn’t know you liked Black girls, Marco,” Jonsen interjected in a more serious tone.

  “Who’s talking about girls? I’m talking about licorice.”

  “I like red licorice.” Ugh, Kristine was so not funny.

  As I tipped my stool dangerously ba
ck I rubbed my hands over the cold, smooth, marbled texture of the island counter top. We’d come a long way from the crack shack. They all headed upstairs but I lingered behind to let shakes of pure joy jolt through my entire body.

  Then something went wrong, standing around a circle I became unable to pay attention to the conversation. I got the sensation I was falling as if I was in a bad dream. I headed for the bathroom. I’m AP’ing, I worried frantically. I’m missing the party. I couldn’t believe this was happening. I’m missing the party, I’m embarrassing myself. I rested my head on the toilet seat and prayed for it to all be over.

  Sleep.

  “Avi,” Was my first panicked thought when I came to. I tried to move onto my hands and knees but that made me sick. My head was stuck like a magnet to the toilet bowl seat. I stared at the likeness of my reflection in the toilet water. I just don’t want to feel like this, I prayed. The water was fresh. Where did my vomit go? I thought about how many missed calls I must have from Avi.

  Two weeks ago I’d put up money on a half-gallon with Ian, Justyn, Jeff and the Skinnies. Katie’s mom was out of town for the weekend and she was throwing a party. The only problem was I had to go home after school that Friday, but I made sure everyone knew that I was gonna call them and meet up with them later. That evening I called and called, all of them, for hours, but no one answered. They’d ditched me, it was my nightmare.

  Jeff had sloppily sucked face with Carrol for an hour. Katie and Ian had held hands for the first time, Jeff had shot Justyn’s passed out lifeless body in Katie’s yard with a paintball gun. Jon fell down the ravine behind Katie’s house and cut open his arm. Carol and Kristine had been the only ones in the right mind to rescue him. The 110 pound girls banded together to drunkenly push and pull Jon out of the ravine. The whole time Carol was yelling about how they needed to pour boiling water on him to stop his shivering otherwise he was going to get hypothermia. Jeff passed out in Katie’s bathtub covered in mac n cheese vomit. Every time I’d heard about the stories the last two weeks I relived the awful hurt of waiting at home for their call. I passed out again.

  Justyn woke me up shaking my shoulder, “You okay, Caldirolis? Hey Caldirolis, you okay?”

  I nodded my head. Please go away, I wished. He was standing there with his arm over some 8th grader.

  “You just had to swig all that alcohol didn’t ya, you just had to be a big man in front of everybody?” He was clearly drunk. I couldn’t even respond because thinking made me want to throw up. I waved him off.

  “Aight, we outro,” he said laughing as they stepped over me.

  I drifted off.

  I opened my eyes to see a face on the opposite side of the toilet seat. It was Lena Tamika. For how ridiculous this was, I took it in stride. It was like Aztecs seeing boats and white people for the first time. Lena was so beautiful she was like the exact opposite of Medusa, everywhere she turned things became more beautiful. She was a junior and her house was a mansion’s mansion. Whenever someone mentioned her name her house inevitably came up. She was a good girl, too, with a reputation for being an uptight Christian. Well, I knew one of her secrets. Duncan once got an invitation to her mansion through Loren. Duncan described to me in wonder how Lena gave him a tour of her wine cellar. They chilled in her basement, Duncan put on a cowboy hat he found and danced for everyone. Then Lena took Duncan by the hand and led him outside, behind her shed, which was as big as his house. There, without saying a word to each other, Duncan became one with her mouth.

  Lena’s arm was touching me, “You’re really cute.” I was half-conscious. “You’re really, really cute,” She said again. She picked her head up and forced it over towards my side of the toilet seat. Her hand grabbed onto my sweater and pulled me towards her. As she came closer I rolled away in the opposite direction until I fell off the toilet into the crevice between the bathroom wall and the toilet seat. She slouched to the ground after me, finally resting her head on my feet. I passed back out.

  “You okay?” I woke up to Avi hovering over me. He must have showed up on his own. I was surprised and impressed.

  “I’m sorry man, I messed up,” I forced out quickly. He was alone. He must be so out of place, who’s he got to talk to? He’s wearing a big bright tennis team sweatshirt. “I was gonna call you,” He didn’t respond, he looked at ease but I knew he was enraged. I was able to stand up just long enough to wobble over to Ian’s brother’s bed and wiggle in between three other lifeless bodies.

  21. Avi Miller

  A week after Ian’s party, Avi’s mom “caught” him with weed. She demanded to know where he got the weed and he told her me. His mom called my mom and yelled at her and I was forbidden from ever hanging out with Avi again.

  Of course my mom believed my side of the story. Especially my allegation that Avi was lying to shift the blame from himself, the real pot pusher. And as for me and pot, I’d experimented a few times and didn’t like it. My mom didn’t like his mom anyways, Avi’s mom was a wino.

  A few weeks earlier, I was bringing Avi to go get baked at Ian’s with me (working against all odds to integrate him into Ian’s group). When he turned to me and said, “Marco, is this it? Is this all we’re going to do for the rest of high school? Smoke weed all the time?” I looked at him like he was retarded. Smoking weed was my favorite thing to do in the entire universe. The comment made so little sense I decided it didn’t even deserve an answer.

  A few moments later, as we were walking, it occurred to me that there was honestly no possible way guys like Avi and me would ever be popular without pot. Checkmate.

  From the beginning I was suspicious that Avi made the whole being caught story up. I figured Avi just wanted to be honest with his parents and told them. Told them that all his friends were smoking weed. I don’t think he expected how hard they would come down on him.

  For his betrayal of our friendship I swore to not only never speak to Avi again, but to ruin him, use all my social sway at Shorewood to make sure he became a loser. I sanctified this oath through years of dreaming about it. I’d made my first life enemy. For the next three years, whenever we’d be forced into the same room together–as soon as I got a glimpse of that bushy red hair. My sub atomic particles would break away from whatever they were doing and charge right at him. We never so much as looked each other’s direction, even if he was standing right in front of me, but you could feel the tension raging furiously. For three years. Our smiles getting bigger, our rapturous laughter getting louder. It wasn’t the most dangerous battle, but it was as serious and agonizing as any that’s ever been fought.

  22. Oakley Carter (Fall, 2004)

  Shorewood’s varsity quarterback, Greg Cooks, called hike. I was standing on the far right side of the field playing cornerback. The whole offense shifted directly towards me, it was a sweep. I was actually scared. My presence on the field was only a slight upgrade from a punching bag. The receiver barely even touched me, he was more worried about blocking the safety behind me. I was left alone facing the running back. I’d learned to not try and tackle varsity running backs up high anymore, but in football you could grab the feet, it was the great equalizer. You always had a chance if you tried to grab the feet. I got ready to lunge, to stretch out and grasp on to his ferocious legs for dear life. I could already feel his cleats trashing into my helmet and tearing into my arms.

  “BAMM.” I was thrown up into a side summersault before slamming to the ground. I groveled in pain. Where did that guy come from?

  My head throbbed as I stood up. I hobbled over to the sideline and sat down. Maybe it’s good I’m getting high before practice, I laughed ironically.

  At the end of freshman year I’d finally hit my growth spurt. The chubby curse that had plagued me throughout grade school and middle school had vanished. Tabloid headlines at the grocery store about losing ten pounds fast no longer grabbed my attention like a flea to a dog pound. My braces had come off, too, revealing a perfect bright smile. After 7 years of thinki
ng, “If only I wasn’t fat and didn’t have dinosaur teeth…” all of a sudden my excuses were gone.

  I’d gotten rid of my sweater vests and loose button up shirts. I’d started wearing T-shirts without other layers. I’d even got a big, expensive, black puffy North Face jacket for my Birthday.

  I’d got skinny without changing my childish eating habits or exercising. It was just my time to grow. Regardless, this change in my physique had inspired me to go for my lifelong dream of starring on the football field.

  The excursion was failing pretty miserably. I wasn’t committed to being an athlete. I wasn’t into weight lifting and training. “Tools” wasting all their time trying to be like the roid head action figures they grew up with. Everyone made the JV team, otherwise they would’ve cut me.

  “Yo Marco,” Tysen walked over to me. Tysen was on the football team and was actually pretty good, he was the backup quarter back. This earned the respect of some of the senior’s like Taylor Beck. Tysen even hung out with them during practice.

  “Man, I got crazy news, you ready for this.” Tysen’s energy was infectious, like it always was. “So, Taylor came up to me earlier and invited me to a party at his house after practice tonight. You wanna go with me?”

  “For real? I’m in.”

  This was a fortunate day. I wondered over why Tysen had decided invite me to go with him, probably because I had a reputation for partying and he’d never even drank before. Honestly I didn’t know much about the seniors, they were so far off my radar I really didn’t pay them any mind, except to make myself small when they were around. But cars were definitely on my mind as a sophomore, and the seniors had them, big trucks and jeeps.

  Taylor picked us up by the gym after practice. Taylor was a big gentle giant, he put off the “deep down I’m a really nice guy” vibe. I liked that and I liked Taylor. But he was a man’s man, and didn’t stray too far beyond that conversationally. We didn’t quite click in these picky times.