Liar, Liar

4. A GOOD LIE CAN BE USED MORE THAN ONCE

Meanwhile, back to Operation Tina.

I was sitting on the front steps of school Tuesday morning before the homeroom bell rang, trying to finish an assignment while keeping an eye on Tina, three steps down, when it hit me: Classes were getting in my way.

It’s not that I don’t like school—I do. But wasting my time in class was a problem if I was going to make Tina understand what a great guy I was.

Out of the eight periods a day, I only saw Tina in three—language arts first period, lunch fifth period and science seventh period. Thanks to the social studies get out of jail free card, I could go to the commons and watch her during her free period while waiting for the perfect moment to dazzle her with my personality.

But I needed more free time. Classes were slowing me down.

A lesser mind would have accepted defeat, since the odds were stacked against me, but the best military leaders always find ways to eliminate obstacles. It was clear that I was going to have to bail on my Tina-free classes: Spanish, math, and gym and art, which alternated days.

I looked around the front steps and sidewalk, assessing my options. I saw Freddy Dooher, who’s on the wrestling team. Normally I hate him because he’s as mean as a snake during the season when he’s starving to death, trying to make weigh-in before the meets. But that day I loved him because he gave me a great idea.

I dashed inside as soon as the first bell rang and ran to the Spanish lab to tell Señora Lucia that I’d recently begun student-managing the wrestling team. She’s only at school two or three times a week because we share her with the other two middle schools in the district, so I didn’t think she’d have a clue about the sports schedules. I didn’t, and I’m here five days a week, all day.

“Buenos dias, Señora.”

“¿Cómo está, Señor Kev?”

“Bueno. For a while now I’ve been wondering how I can add more to the school spirit. I’ve decided to become an athletic supporter.” I snorted at my own lame joke. I wasn’t sure the humor translated, because she kept organizing her stack of bilingual flashcards.

“So I’m helping the wrestling team, keeping track of scores and … like that.”

“¡Que peligroso!” she said, clearly mistaking wrestling for extreme sheepherding or something riskier than a bunch of guys rolling around on stinky mats in the gym.

“Would it be okay if I missed some classes so that I can … help the guys get ready for … tournaments? I’ll get the homework and reading assignments from Roberto.”

“¡Bueno!” She beamed. She gave me a hall pass so that I could go to the gym when I was supposed to be in Spanish.

I hustled to get to homeroom on time. Once I was there, Brooke Daniels and her sickening boyfriend, Timmy Kurtz, caught my eye. They’re Mr. and Mrs. Drama Department and really annoying—always eee-NUN-cee-ate-ing. It’s really gross the way Timmy lets loose with flying gobs of spit. He gives JonPaul total germ fits when he talks.

However, seeing them gave me another idea. Art! I asked for a pass from my homeroom teacher and blasted down to the art studio, where Mrs. Steck was counting tubes of paint.

“Mrs. Steck!” It’s the only way to talk to her about anything, because she herself speaks with lots of exclamation points in her voice. “I’m working on the crew for the musical!” I blurted. “Can I miss a few days of class to paint scrims?!” I was glad I’d seen a rerun of High School Musical recently; I had my drama department terminology nailed.

“Kev! That’s wonderful!” Mrs. Steck looked at me with admiration. “I always give extra credit to my students who paint flats and build sets!”

I hope she’ll feel the same way about pretend walls on imaginary stages, I thought as I tucked her hall pass into my pocket.

Two down, two more to go.

On my way to language arts, I passed the school newspaper office, which gave me a new idea. Coach Gifford was about to discover that the athletic department was finally going to enjoy the editorial support it had long been denied.

I caught him as he headed into the locker room.

“Hey, Coach, gotta second? I’m gonna be writing for the sports section of the newspaper.”

“Good work. I’m always available to offer a quote. Do you want one now?”

“Not just yet, thanks. But I was hoping it would be cool with you if I missed gym for a few days while I learned the ropes.”

“Anything for some friendly press, sport.” We fist bumped, he scribbled a hall pass and I turned to leave. “Don’t forget to run a few laps,” he bellowed down the hall after me. “Wouldn’t want you to get flabby and out of shape.”

I flashed him a thumbs-up.

Check. Check. And check. One more.

I thought for a few minutes, stymied about how to get out of math. Then the voice came from on high, the loudspeaker in the hall.

“Would all members of the student government please report to the auditorium at the start of the fourth class period? Thank you.”

No, thank you.

Tina is the student rep for room 81. I knew this because I’d looked up her name on the school website the night before in my information-gathering process.

I’d skip fourth-period math and send Mr. Meyers an email alerting him to the fact that I’d taken over as the room 82 alternate. He’d be impressed by that, because he’d run for town council once and was always talking about “what a pleasure and a privilege it is for one citizen to serve another.”

Even though all the information about the wrestling team and the musical crew and the newspaper staff and the student government could be verified on the school website, I’d never been a troublemaker, so no one would suspect I was lying and check up on me. I knew they’d want to think I was a good kid working his tail off to make the school a better place.

My friends would keep me up on homework and warn me about tests. I made a note: (1) Ask them to shoot me info about assignments every day after school, (2) text Katie that I’d been feeling feverish and achy, to keep her sympathies alive.

I’m really doing nothing more than increasing the value of my education, I told myself. Making mostly As had been getting too easy. Skipping classes would be a challenge if I wanted to keep my grades up. And I did. But I had to make time to get to know Tina better. And, more important, to have Tina get to know me better.

She was worth anything it took to show her that I was the only possible guy in the entire school she should think about spending time with.