The First True Lie: A Novel Read Online Free PDF Page A

singing. It’s raining, really raining. When Mama wants to see if I have a temperature, she puts her lips to my forehead, but I can’t do that to myself. Fucking shit. I take the thermometer from the medicine cabinet, shake it up and down, and put it under my arm. Then I change my mind—there’s no point in having a fever now. I lean my forehead against the edge of the sink; it’s nice and cool. I stay bent over for another two or three centuries, until my back starts to hurt like an old person’s. Blue’s standing in the doorway. He looks at me but doesn’t understand. He tries to meow, but nothing comes out. Even he doesn’t know what to say.
    It was only a little while ago that I woke up, but I’m really tired. I should do my homework, but I don’t know if I’m up to it. Someone whose mother has just died can’t do homework, but that isn’t an excuse, because I can’t tell anyone about it. It has to stay a secret, a really big secret just between us. I don’t want to end up in an orphanage.
    When I was younger Mama used to read me a story about a little girl who was left in an orphanage. At night the girl would hide under the covers, even though they scratched her face. She was sad because nobody loved her. Then she was saved by a friendly giant who ate only snozzcumbers. He came through the window and carried her away. She stopped being just one orphan in a thousand and became the daughter of a big, strong man. But I stopped believing in giants—whether I liked it or lumped it, as Mama would say—a long time ago.
    I have to do my homework. I can’t risk them suspecting anything.
    There was one boy at school who told a story about how he hadn’t done his homework because his aunt had died—then they discovered it wasn’t true at all and made him go to a million appointments to figure out how he’d ended up telling such a whopper. He earned an unsatisfactory grade for behavior. His aunt was pretty upset about it, especially because she wasn’t decrepit at all.
    The telephone rings. I run to turn off the noise. It’s Giulia again.
    “My mother said she’ll call you tomorrow, she’s cooking.”
    “No worries, I’m leaving, going on vacation, God willing. I’m already at the airport. I’ll be back in a few weeks. Say good-bye to your mother and give her a kiss for me, and be good.”
    “I will. Send us a postcard.”
    Giulia says good-bye in a voice that’s so happy it’s gross. She doesn’t notice anything. She’s got other stuff on her mind.
    Eating is disgusting. I don’t think I’ll ever eat again. I don’t know what to do. It’s my first dinner without a good dinner, my first night without a good night. For the first time in so long, maybe ever. I’ll have to get used to doing without Mama. When she grazes my cheek it seems less like a kiss than a warmish breath of air, bringing me luck. I decide to sleep on the sofa. So long to my room, to the toys scattered across the floor, to the bears on the shelf secretly looking and laughing at me.
    “You’re nothing but a race of stupid, weak bipeds.”
    So long to all the things I’m leaving behind.
    The only one I take is the koala.
    “What do you think?”
    Kolly doesn’t answer. He must be offended because ever since I got Blue I’ve stopped asking him for his opinion.
    Old Kolly is made from real koala fur, with a brown nose that’s always cold. Someone Grandma knew in Australia sent it to me.
    “I was very fond of this friend, you know. He was tremendously handsome when he was young, and an amazing dancer as well, but then he went away and I haven’t seen him since.”
    At that point Grandma was already off on a tangent that filled her mouth with the words
fond, friend, Australia
…Australia like Asturias or Austria-Hungary, strange places on a map that went out of date a hundred wars ago, the Australia of “My dear, dear boy, it’s on the other side of the world. When it’s dark here, the sun’s up there; when it’s