The Cake is a Lie Read Online Free PDF Page B

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
8 th graders, I finally made up my mind to sit in the middle of the
bus. Not in the back, everyone knew 8 th 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 7 th grade, I laid out