The Cake is a Lie Read online

  “Dog, I got dude’s sweatshirt over his cabeza and just ‘boom boom,’ game over, knumsayin?”

  Jonsen’s brother was always getting kicked out of school. Condoms were lying on the apartment floor, piles of clothes were in every room. The Palmer smell was everywhere, the canned fruit. I felt very out of place. I didn’t like it at all.

  Summer, 1999

  Jonsen had been staying at his g-ma’s lately. We’d been building a tree house in her back yard over the summer. After an amazing day of kind of working on the project, mainly imagining it, Jonsen asked me to spend the night. He even begged his dad to order us pizza and rent us a movie. I was nervous about trying to sleep away from home, I had trouble sleeping and going to sleep was the most dreaded part of my day. But caught up in the excitement I decided to go for it and called my mom to convince her to let me spend the night.

  “Don’t worry, mom, his grandma is much more responsible than his parents. Yes, you can talk to her.”

  Jonsen’s oldest sister, Alicia, and her friend had been hanging around with us all day. They were in middle school. Alicia wanted to rent “Dude, Where’s my Car?” I protested, but Jonsen betrayed me and sided with them so I was outvoted. I could hear my brother’s voice, “That movie is for idiots.” We started watching the movie and then Alicia left to go to bed. Jonsen and his sister’s friend were sitting next to each other on his futon while I was sitting on a sleeping bag on the floor. They were sitting pretty close to each other. Close enough to make me lose my appetite. I picked up a piece of pizza, but just holding it in my hand was revolting. The movie might as well have been background noise to the real show. Now they were lying down next to each other, Jonsen was the big spoon. They were still pretending to be watching the movie. Jonsen pulled a blanket over them, he started kissing the back of her neck while touching her front. She was doing her best to conceal his hands. Everyone was trying to be as quiet as possible. My stomach twisted in knots. The smell of Jonsen’s cologne began making me sick. I tried to keep focusing on the movie, but every time Ashton Kutcher laughed I cringed with nausea. The movie became a fun house nightmare. Soon Jonsen was on top of her, his body moving up and down.

  This is the worst I’ve ever felt, my panicked thoughts raced as the blanket gyrated, what’s wrong with me? Is this jealousy? Definitely not of her, she’s nothing special–other than the fact she’s in middle school. No, I’m just jealous of Jonsen, that he’s Jonsen. That he’s having sex, the greatest achievement ever. I mean he gets all the girls, but maybe, just maybe I could’ve had sex before him. Then maybe he’d know what it was like. It was all a race, and Jonsen had won.

  Soon I couldn’t take it anymore and left. I went down to the basement. I watched infomercials all night in my own personal hell. I replayed the same angry thoughts over and over. How dare he do this to me…Only twenty two thousand seconds until morning.

  He came down for me at some point, apologizing for making me feel uncomfortable, telling me I could come back now.

  “I’m fine, don’t worry, I just can’t sleep,” I told him.

  For a year after that night I just avoided sleepovers all together, afraid of not being able to sleep, afraid of that feeling. For all of the big sleepovers I would stay until 10ish and then make some elaborate lie as to why I couldn’t spend the night. “I gotta go guys my mom has to go to the hospital.” And my mom would go along with it. She and my step dad, Allan, would pick me up.

  6. Duncan Anderson (Fall, 1999)

  In 5th grade, Duncan Anderson threw the greatest Halloween party I’d ever been to. Duncan was in my class through grade school. We were far from best friends, but all the guys in our grade got along and we all played together during recess (Well, Jonsen didn’t play during recess, he stayed inside, knitting and playing cards with Mari and the rest of the girls). Duncan was shy and quiet the first few years I knew him. He wore a lot of tie dye t-shirts, had a rat tail, and was chubby like me. Then, in one month, he had a big growth spurt and grew as tall as Jonsen. I was so jealous. His new height also brought out his confidence and soon, seemingly out of nowhere, he was hosting our class’ first boy-girl party.

  We were far from mystical times, but Halloween was definitely still magical. It was that Northwest-fall smell in the air. Also, being hopped up on a ton of candy was pure magic at eleven.

  There was an enchanted threshold that night at Duncan’s party, too. A long stair case descending from the grown-ups who were having their own party upstairs, down into the dark basement full of unsupervised preteens.

  Everyone was there: Kat, Loren, Jonsen, plenty of 6th graders. There was a strobe light and a disco ball, legitimately making it by far the biggest budgeted party I’d ever been to. Everyone greeted me with excitement.

  “Marco’s here.” Loren and Jonsen yelled.

  People were dancing and singing. “Come on Barbie let’s go party ah-ah-ah-ya.” I tried to dance and jump around a little bit. It turned into me sort of hoping across the floor a few times. I don’t know what my parents were teaching me, but they should have been teaching me to dance.

  After the dancing died down we played the granddaddy of all spin the bottle games. I even pecked Kat, it was a miracle.

  One of the boys in our class, Brian, brought his 7th grade step-sister, Addy. Addy had a reputation and she was living up to it, tongue kissing everyone.

  Addy and a 6th grader Jessica were sitting on Duncan’s couch. I confidently threw my body between them and squeezed in. Then I put my arms around both of them like a pimp.

  “Sup ladies, how you doing tonight.” They cracked up laughing. This was one of my funniest bits. Then Jessica and Addy both started whispering and giggling around me.

  “Marco, Addy thinks you have an incredible butt,” Jessica blurted before being overwhelmed by dying laughter. I blushed.

  “On a scale of 1 to 10, your butt is a 10,” Addy finished for her. It was my first great compliment (adults don’t count). From then on, before I showered, I looked at my chubby body and thought about my classmates making me take off my shirt so they could compare who was the fattest kid in the class. Then I would turn around and look at my butt and get so overcome with joy, it was a 10.

  Allan and my mom picked me up from Duncan’s party around ten. They went upstairs first and mingled with the other adults for a bit before taking me home. My mom was starting to quickly catch onto the whole operation. On the drive home she was going on about her suspicion that we might have been unsupervised downstairs.

  I heard Duncan’s dad tell her upstairs, “They’re just kids, we pop down every once in a while.”

  My mom was also certain that all the parents were drunk.

  “I think a lot of those parents might have drinking problems,” She told Allan. God bless those parents’ souls, every last one of them. I thought. That was the best night of my life. I’m the shit and I have so many friends. Duncan’s parents are so cool. And as for Duncan, well we had to be best friends now, that was just that.

  7. Pacey Baker (Summer, 2001)

  Duncan and I ran over to Jonsen’s house to wake him up. Jonsen’s room was a mountain of clothes. You couldn’t even see the bed. We jumped on him and got him up. He was groggy as we pushed him out the door and started walking towards the beach.

  “ZOOOM.” A boy on a motor scooter blew past us. We watched him zip down the road then slow down and turn back towards us.

  Jonsen surprisingly ran out into the road after him, yelling, “Pacey. What up.”

  I knew that name. Pacey Baker had a rep. He was a year older than us and in 7th grade. He got suspended last year from Richmond Beach’s local elementary school for making out with Samantha Sayers in the hallway. In plain sight of everyone. They must have known they were going to get in trouble. Pacey was a myth.

  I had no clue how Jonsen knew him, but Jonsen knew everyone. Pacey and Jonsen walked back to us and Jonsen introduced everyone. I felt embarrassed for Jonsen having to introduce me. Duncan w
as tall and good looking, for all Pacey knew he was the shit.

  I studied Pacey meticulously. He wasn’t as tall as Jonsen and Duncan, but he was stockily built with broad shoulders. His chubby square face was unique and extremely likable, but his eyebrows were cocked all the way up, just itching for the first chance to put someone down. I was now officially in a state of awe.

  “What can you get it up to Pacey? 25?” Jonsen asked.

  “Are you kidding? I’ve hit 35 before.”

  “Cool scooter.” I finally burst out.

  “Uh, ok.” Willy punished me by not even looking at me. I decided not to say anything else.

  Jonsen and Pacey continued talking about the scooter, how tight it was. While they talked, we walked a few blocks alongside Pacey over to his house, some of his friends were meeting him there. We were kind of hanging out with Pacey Baker! I studied the way Pacey walked. I’d overheard my classmate Jessica say Pacey walked with a gangster limp, but I didn’t see anything. He walked kind of slowly, I observed.

  His house was actually an apartment complex and when we got there two giants and one kid were waiting in the parking lot with their own motor scooters. Pacey reluctantly introduced everyone, his friends were Mark (giant), Chris (giant) and Morris (kid). Morris’ first name was Chris too, but they’d smartly nicknamed him Morris to avoid confusion. Plus, last name nicknames were very in, Loren called people by their last names all the time.

  I’d heard about Mark and Chris. They were a year older. Kids from their elementary school dropped their names in stories to sound cool, although they’d never done anything as infamous as Pacey.

  Mark and Chris were monstrously tall. They ruled over me. Mark’s brown bangs hung evenly across his handsome face. But he had a mammoth gap between his front teeth that he was forced to wear with pride. There was nothing traditionally handsome about Chris, he had chubby Santa Clause cheeks and a square forehead. Chris scared the shit out of me. That one didn’t have anything to lose. Their third companion, Morris, was barely taller than me. He was a skinny, blond baby. The most popular kids always came with a pre-puberty sidekick, for what we lacked in size we made up with quick wit. Life’s naturally balanced that way.

  As Pacey opened his apartment door, Chris clamped his big arms down on Morris’ shoulders and shouted, “Let’s throw Morris in Pacey’s pool.”

  Mark echoed this sentiment chanting, “Morris in the pool. Morris in the pool.” Morris squirmed to get away but the ogres hoisted him straight up into the air and placed him onto their shoulders. He eventually gave in–it was easier not to resist. As a #2 myself, I felt Morris’ pain, what bullies. I was so grateful Jonsen didn’t treat me like that.

  Pacey laughed. Jonsen, I and Duncan watched silently. Pontius Pilates.

  As they carried him into the house, Morris started pleading and screeching in a last ditch attempt, “Come on, guys, please. Seriously please. Don’t do this. Remember, I bought you guys those burgers yesterday.”

  Mark stopped, halting the procession “You know, Chris, he’s right... Morris did put up fifteen on those burgers.” Chris set him down and Morris scrambled back out the door a few feet away to a safe distance.

  “Well, you get off this time Morris.” They all laughed, Morris laughed the loudest. I tried not to look directly at them, to make eye-contact, I was petrified at this point. Guy-friends notoriously picked on each other but that was by far the worst I’d ever seen. I picked up the vibe that they treated him like that on a regular basis. Like he was their personal play toy. What power. If that was how they treat their friends…

  We hung outside Pacey’s for a bit. Duncan asked to ride Mark’s motor scooter, and Mark reluctantly said “aight.” Duncan began riding the thing in little circles around the apartment parking lot. Duncan was finishing up his little joy ride when he went over a speed bump and accidently kicked off one of the tubes running into the engine. You clumsy buffoon, you bumbling idiot, I shouted in my head.

  The ogres were restless. Duncan apologized profusely and everyone but me played around with the engine and gave their opinion as to what was wrong. An air of tension hung over the conversation. Their eyes scanned over Duncan, Jonsen and me. Duncan finally offered to pay for the scooter if it couldn’t be fixed and gave them his number. We were allowed to leave.

  As we walked back, we retold our versions of the day like war veterans. Jonsen told the story like he was ready to beat all four of them up at any moment. Duncan’s version beat everyone when he boasted that the number he gave them was actually fake. It was a clever move. I already knew he could never pay for it anyways, they were hundreds of dollars. Duncan was going to Kellogg next year anyways, Shoreline’s other middle school, he’d never see them again anytime soon.

  8. First Day of Middle School (Fall, 2001)

  Waiting in the morning fog, standing in the aura of the giant half-asleep 8th graders, I finally made up my mind to sit in the middle of the bus. Not in the back, everyone knew 8th graders sat in the back, but not in the front. I was somebody, I was best friends with Jonsen Palmer.

  By the end of summer I was usually ready to go back to school. New school years were exciting, meeting new people, reuniting with old friends. The week before school my dad would always take me to our local department store to get new clothes. When my dad wasn’t wearing a suit he was usually wearing something from a thrift store so he’d stand back and let me do my thing. I’m a naturally talented visual artist.

  Every once in a while he’d grumble over prices and try to guide me towards the deals by saying, “Hey Marco, aren’t these shoes cool? They’re 50% off.” I resented this and as soon as he suggested something I immediately hated it. I also believed that things were only on sale because they sucked.

  Ritualistically, the night before a new school year, I carefully laid out my outfit for the first day, complete with a new pair of socks and underwear. That night, before 7th grade, I laid out my favorite solid blue sweater vest–my favorite from 6th grade–on top of a white undershirt. Best to go with a sure thing on such an important day. I’d struck out with brand new clothes in previous years, it’s bound to happen to anyone. Last year I’d picked out a shirt that was too tight and Alia Lee had told me I had man boobs in front of all her girlfriends. I couldn’t risk that again, not on such a big day. I was learning. My new pants were a sure thing. Cargo shorts had become all the rage, and, after resisting for a year, I finally caved to their coolness and bought a pair. But I wanted to be unique so I picked out a pair of dark green ones.

  Loren had told me about middle school. He’d watched a kid get “swirlied” by a group of 8th graders. His friends would “can” kids all the time.

  I’d talked to Loren about my predicament with the dang scooter and he’d assured me that he knew everyone our middle school, Einstein, and if Mark and Chris were to give me any trouble at all I could just come find him and he would take care of it.

  The most popular 8th grader on my bus route was Matt Robinson. He was short and chubby like me, but all the other 8th graders on our bus hung on his every word, waiting for his next joke. I did, too, eavesdropping from the middle row. It wasn’t what he was saying, the art was in how he cut in and screamed out decrees over everyone else, not all the time, but just enough.

  “I wouldn’t touch Terra Richie, she’s so gross! Terra Richie tries to go down on more pipes than Mario. Slurp slurp slurp.” What a cocky punk.

  If my nervousness that day had a sound it would’ve been the screech of the bus breaks when we pulled up to the sprawling white walls of Einstein. One by one we filed out into the blur of frenzied preteens. Anxiety ran in my family so I was walking slightly faster than the hundreds of kids scurrying around me to sort themselves out. I had to find a circle. I couldn’t be seen just by myself looking around with nowhere to go. I saw people I knew from little league, tennis club, kindergarten. Losers. All losers. I couldn’t be seen with them. I felt the sting of a hundreds judgments. I walked around at a despe
rate pace searching for Jonsen, but he was nowhere to be found. Einstein was very confusing, one story spread out like a maze.

  I passed the cool kid circles. I saw Pacey Baker standing around in one. He wasn’t even talking to anyone, he had headphones on and was singing along loudly to a song, “Call it what you wanna call it, I’m a fucking alcoholic.” The other kids in the circle were just standing around in silence listening to him. What an idiot, I observed, who would brag about being an alcoholic? God, gangster rappers are so dumb.

  At last, I came across my opportunity. I saw Robin Spoon. One of my best friends from our neighborhood. Robin and her friends used to come knock on my door and ask me to hangout. My whole family was very impressed and my mom had boasted to everyone about how groups of girls would come to the door asking for me. Robin was a year older, she was standing in a cool 8th grade circle, it was perfect, I went for it.

  “Robin.” I shouted enthusiastically as I ran over to her.

  She didn’t respond, reluctant to even look at me.

  “Who are you?” A weasel-faced boy standing next to Robin questioned me very nastily. He was tiny, I wasn’t intimidated.

  “Who the fuck are you?” I questioned back.

  Silence fell over the group. Silence for too long. I looked around at the other girls, the other faces. I was clearly not wanted. I turned around and walked away, embarrassed out of my mind. How could Robin do that to me? Someday she would regret that. I carried the shame with me all the way through my first three classes. Robin’s cold stare slowly ate all my confidence away. I’d been one of the most social kids at my elementary school. But Middle school was a whole new playing field, these were kids from Highland Terrace, Ridgecrest, Lake Forest Park… Each one its own unique universe. These were the best of the best. My grade school accomplishments meant nothing now.