Twelve Truths and a Lie Read Online Free PDF

year-round studio classes.
    She’d make a good mother some day, if she ever decided to settle down with the right guy. I wish I had her free spirit when it came to relationships, but I was getting there. She always said she liked being alone best. I was beginning to see the lure.
    “So, what’s new?” Nicole whispered to me as the lights went down in the auditorium.
    “Not much.” It was on the tip of my tongue to tell Nicole about my night with Cameron. Except, I wanted to keep the information sacred for now, not to be analyzed by my friends.
    We dissected everything as it was and I didn’t want to think about why I had just made a new friend and met him out on a Friday night under the pretense of an imaginary club.
    Nor did I want to share that we began texting each other almost daily.
    The first message came through from Cameron the other day.
    Cameron: Talk about bruised ribs—my new kid is giving me a run for my money.
    Me: Sounds like he might be testing you.
    Cameron: Me, the rules, the boundaries in the classroom. He’s got a lot of anger in him. It’ll take some time to develop trust.
    Me: You okay?
    Cameron: For sure.
    Me: How about your aid?
    Cameron: Sandy is tough as nails.
    Me: Bet she is.
    Cameron: Would help if parents were consistent with the meds, though I’m sure money is an issue sometimes.
    Me: Meds get a bad rap but when they work they work.
    Cameron: They work brilliantly for impulsive behaviors.
    Me: And so they can concentrate and learn.
    Cameron: Social skills, too. Don’t forget about those. Middle-graders can be asshats.
    Me: I think we all probably were. LOL. Kids that age = brutal.
    Cameron: Tell me about it. So hey, is the club still meeting on Friday night?
    Me: Same time, same sandbox.
    Cameron: Looking forward to it.
    This was what I was thinking about during the first two opening numbers. How the communication between Cameron and me flowed so easily. How we seemed to be on the same page about many important values and beliefs.
    It wasn’t like talking to Phil, my last boyfriend, who thought kids were over-diagnosed and schools needed to bring back corporal punishment. I cringed every time I thought about that heated conversation, though I was always the one to back down, because I was too easy-going. I had learned that about myself. I dealt with so much conflict at work that I was afraid of rocking the boat in my personal life, too, I guess.
    I just wanted somebody to hang out with me, for everything to flow effortlessly. How did I think Phil and I or any other random boyfriend over the years could meet in the middle on certain topics when our integral values weren’t even lining up?
    “You seem distracted,” Nicole whispered in between dance numbers.
    “Sorry,” I said. “Work stuff on my mind.”
    “So, will you come to the twins’ birthday party?” she asked. “They’re turning three. They’d love to see their Auntie Rory.”
    “Of course,” I said, smiling at their nickname for me. “When is it?”
    “Next month on a Sunday,” she said, as if mentally flipping through a calendar in her head. The same way she juggled all she did already—work and motherhood, wife, home life, and friends. She was amazing, really.
    “Done,” I said. “Any gift ideas?” No way could I guess; I barely knew anything about toddlers. Kids aged five to twelve were a different story. I could make decent predictions based on my frequent sessions with families.
    “I’ll text you some ideas in a couple of weeks,” she said as the next dance number began. These were Sydney’s older girls, who were required to audition to partake in special performances for the show. They were mesmerizing to watch. Their sequined outfits sparkled as they stood in formation and shook their booties to the popular melody. They finished to rousing applause from the audience.
    During intermission, Sydney rushed out briefly to greet us. “Thanks for coming, guys.” She looked distracted and overheated,