Clique Ch. 02

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The Liar.
4k words
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2

Part 2 of the 3 part series

Updated 10/20/2022
Created 06/30/2011
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(All characters are 18+)

Clique

(L to R) Hailey Radclyffe, Henry Bridge, Sofia Lorenzini, Carlos Lorenzini,
Trista Dory, Paulie Westwood, May March, Vinton Gray

Chapter 2: The Liar

I skidded in my socks over to the dryer. I had to shift my cell phone and hold it between my shoulder and tilted head so I could start transferring clothes to a hamper with my right hand. With my left hand I held a spatula aloft.

"L-o-r-e-n-z-i-n-i, Carlos. My dad is Charles. No, not Junior. No, I know we've already paid that. No, go ahead and check." I hopped over to the eggs scrambling while trying to tug on a warm pair of jeans. Dammit, the dishes were stacking up. I'd have get to them tonight. Our house was a nice, modern spacious two-story, with designer decoration and furnishing, but we had quit asking the maid service to come for a while now, and it showed.

Sofia padded downstairs slowly, the sleepy little panda on her long nightshirt may as well have been her self portrait in the mornings. She also wore ankle socks and her ever-present big yellow plastic bracelet / watch /coin purse. It was a weird Japanese kids' fashion accessory that she'd got months ago-- I don't know where from.

"Wa-goo," she greeted me, smiling with half lidded eyes.

"Yeah, I'm still here." I said into the phone, one leg in my jeans. I gestured to let Sofia know I was stuck on the line.

Wa-goo meant 'hello, brother' and only applied to me.

It's a phenomenon almost unique to twins like us. When left to our own devices, very young kids sometimes naturally develop new words while practicing our baby babble. If two of us listening to each other regularly reinforce these words enough, meaning gets assigned to them. Sofia's doctors told me it was called idioglossia, or twinspeak.

However, in this case there was practically a complete language that was almost entirely Sofia's alone. I remembered a few things here and there, but very early on I established the concept of Mom and Dad's "real" words. Sofia always loved "our" words. So her little mind kept on doing that, ever busy with the process of learning something new then automatically creating a word for it, never caring at all about what other people called it.

Except for me. Mom always said that Sofia only bothered learning "real" words because I was silly enough to start using them. It was very much the way her mind still worked, and in so many ways she had her own private worlds in which she liked to play. Sometimes those worlds were just as vivid as our own. This hadn't always been a good thing.

Sofia padded over to me in the kitchen, leaned her thin body against me in a hug, then slid down on her butt onto the tile floor. She messed with her bracelet for a bit and popped open a little container, taking out two different pills. I got a clean glass from the cabinet and filled it with tap water, while giving yes and no answers into the phone.

I passed the glass of water down to Sofia, and she handed the pills up to me in return. I covered the bottom part of the cell phone with my hand then whispered down to her, "It's okay, Mom and I trust you to take these."

Sofia got up on her knees, and tilted her head up to me. "I know," she whispered back. Her voice was soft, but clear and smart. She closed her hazel eyes, opened her mouth wide, and stuck out her tongue.

Oh man. It felt like I had something in my throat. We were both grown now, but she so treasured our little childhood rituals that I couldn't deny her, even with their increasing . . . awkwardness. I took the first pill and carefully pressed it to her tongue. After a beat, she dutifully drew it into her mouth, brought the glass to her lips, tilted, and swallowed it down.

She angled her button nose back up at me, eyes still closed, opened up, and again out came the flat of her tongue, waiting.

I looked at the remaining pill in my hand, like it was dangerous. I was sweating. I hated myself for what I was feeling, for staring down at the slight, worn cotton of her nightshirt. The shine of black hair and thin eyelashes. I had been protecting her for all of our lives, but she deserved a better protector, a better brother than one who would look at that innocent face and think what I was thinking.

Every. Morning.

She opened her big eyes. Impatient? Unreadable. I brought the second pill down onto her tongue. She kept her eyes open this time and watched me. Sip, tilt, swallow, loving smile.

I let out the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.

...

Someone was talking to me! My pants weren't on! The eggs were burning!

"Oh, god, sorry, thanks, I have to go," I snapped shut my phone and threw it aside, frantically trying to turn away from Sofia, jump into the other leg of my jeans and cover however much she had seen.

Sofia laughed, got up, and took a sharp knife and a box of packaged blueberry muffins to the dining table. My heart would still skip a beat whenever she picked up a knife. But she took her meds now. She would use the knife to meticulously remove the cellophane wrappers from several muffins and place them on a serving plate, just so. I salvaged as much of the eggs as I could.

To Sofia's glee, Mom joined us for breakfast, but only ate a bite. Mom wasn't usually up this early; she had been sleeping a lot lately.

"Did you talk to your father?" Mom asked.

I felt Sofia's sock feet playing with my own under the table as she ate, like usual, swiping and circling around. I play-kicked her back a little.

"No, I just talked to his lawyer."

"Here or in Medellin?"

"Here. Actually I only talked to their office. I still don't know. I'll keep trying to figure it out, what we can do."

Twenty years ago, my father was a young New Yorker on a business venture -- of some questionable sort -- in Medellin, Colombia, who met a beautiful girl. He found a way to win her heart and steal her away to America. Now, Mom was the American, and had been trying to find a way to get her husband out of a Medellin jail for the last two months. Due to another... questionable venture, it turned out.

Mom pat my hand, resigned and sad. "We'll just keep trying, baby. Sofia, honey, you know that we'd like you to not talk about all this at school, right?"

Good point, we needed to have this talk with her.

"Sofie, I've just been telling everyone he's off working in Ohio and I went to help him there. Are you ...okay with that?"

"Oh, of course. Don't worry about me."

I actually had worried about her. (Like always.) She wasn't one for lies. Sometimes I would catch a sly look on her face, but I would dismiss it. She shared her every secret with me, even when I couldn't understand them.

Mom nodded gently. "Okay, what will you say if anyone asks about daddy?"

"Obviously the truth. He attained the throne of the Duke of Penguins. He will return when all is well in the Land. And I will one day be Baroness, should I prove penguin enough."

Sofia took off a sock and daintily placed it on the table, as if that action proved her point.

I realized that I needn't have worried. Her way worked just as well as mine.

Mom played along, "Okay, then, why exactly did you put your sock on the table?"

I knew why. I shifted uncomfortably as a toenail lightly scratched along my calf, Footsie Version 2. But I hoped she wouldn't mention that to Mom.

Instead, she said, "Duh, Mom, you ever seen a penguin wearing socks?"

Mom was smiling now.

I joined their silly game. "I've never seen a penguin wearing just one sock either, Sofie. Sorry, it really just doesn't seem like you're fully committed to the Penguin ways."

Sofia stared at us both with a smile of determination. She dropped her hands beneath the table, wobbled back and forth in her chair for a couple of seconds, then dropped some tiny blue boy-short panties on the table next to her sock. She then slipped down into her chair, arms folded, triumphant and smug.

I froze.

"Sofia!" Mom scolded, wiping away tears from laughing. "You are terrible. Don't do that to your brother!"

Mom got up from the table, taking a muffin with her, swatting Sofia's arm. "Look, you've broken him!" I was sitting bolt upright, jaw clenched. Mom left for her room with a full snorting laugh heard down the hall.

Mom had noticed that I couldn't move a muscle. But she hadn't seen under the table, where Sofia had slumped down in her seat and placed her little bare foot on my chair, between my legs, and simply held it there, touching me.

I couldn't think. Sofia couldn't know what she was doing, but there was that knowing smile. The foot stayed put. She was looking at me, biting her lip.

I choked, "Sofie, uh... why...?"

"It made Mom happy, Moop-ba."

Suddenly,

It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time! It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time!

Sofia's watch alarm went off with a tinny song playing, and she quickly hopped up from her seat, and sprinted up the stairs back to her room. I barely relaxed.

"Sof? We're leaving in fifteen minutes!"

"Okay, I need thirteen and a half!"

++++++++++++++++++++++

Trista wasn't at her house when we got there. Mr. Dory said that she got a ride to school from a friend in an SUV; he had assumed that it was mine.

I didn't say much. It was a weird way for a breakup to become official. Sofia just balled up and hugged her seat in the car, "Mine mine mine," playfully luxuriating in her claimed shotgun spot.

++++++++++++++++++++++

I saw Vinton Gray leaning back in the rickety old bleacher seats outside, messing with his smartphone, probably busy overthinking something. He tucked the phone away as I, then May and Hailey, stepped out the doors of the school, joining Vint at our regular spot. Peterson was a public high school in a moderately affluent, growing college town, which meant that there were always renovations going on, and lax security. Vinton and I originally started sitting outside at the old bleachers at lunch because it was in viewing distance of the courts during the girls' tennis class.

Today, Paulie had been held after third period for something, and Sofia didn't have lunches with us. Her schedule was a little different. They still made her take an hour a day with a counselor and a group of kids with problems that I thought were far more real than hers. She had been doing great for years now, and never got angry any more.

But Trista? I had no idea where she was, or if she would show her face today. I looked straight ahead where I was walking. My first priority was trying not to make it obvious that I was looking around for Trista.

Vint didn't even need to see my face. "Looking around for Trista?"

I sat down, "No, no way."

Vint smirked. "Convincing."

Hailey and May scooted to sit close on each side of me. This would be bad.

Hailey pat my arm, "Carlos, we're so sorry, dude. She's such bad news. You deserve way better."

May added, "After we got back yesterday, I was so... peeved at her!"

Vint turned to them, "Hey, yeah, what happened to you girls yesterday anyway? I heard that Trista and that drug dealer Bridge—"

I stopped him. "Listen, it doesn't matter. I don't care; I'm fine."

Hailey hesitated, then said, "Good for you. Just forget her, that's some shit you just don't want to know, and . . . I didn't want to have to tell you."

Vint waved his hands, "Wait, wait. Now I want to know. You can't just tell us that shit went down and not give us anything. Come on, something."

The girls looked at each other back and forth, silent for a minute.

May raised her hand like she was in class. "Oooo, I know!" She pointed at Hailey. "We kind of almost made out."

Vint smiled, "Sweet!" and gave May a high five.

Hailey blushed for a second and nudged me, talking quietly, "Why don't you come out with me tonight and hang, no talking about Trista unless we're talking shit about her."

"No, I can't."

"Why not?"

I did what I could to put on a smile, "Like I said, I'm fine. In fact, there's another girl who I think has been flirting with me, and tonight I'm going to spend time with her."

Not technically a lie, right?

++++++++++++++++++++++

I didn't know exactly what the deal was with Trista and Bridge, but that didn't keep me from asking Paulie for a little extra focused attention on Bridge at practice that day. Paulie, as ever, was cheerful and anxious to help me, and didn't even want an explanation. And Paulie certainly followed through, with one rough tackle after another, all through practice.

Bridge noticed, for certain, but didn't complain or retaliate. Near the end of practice, Paulie landed a hit that caused the sideline to cringe. Bridge was on the ground.

I went over and helped him up.

"Hey Bridge, you gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, thanks. Just the wind knocked outta me. Holy hell that hurt."

Hands on his knees, recovering, Bridge looked up at me.

"Hey Carlos? ...You gonna be okay?"

"Yeah, thanks."

I remember being told once that reconciliations between girls weren't so easy.

++++++++++++++++++++++

I dropped into the driver's seat, exhausted.

"Wa-goo, Stinky." There in the seat beside me Sofia had an open textbook in her lap and a little book light headband on.

"I thought you got a ride, Sofie."

"Decided to wait. I got distracted reading this. Page turner. Could not put it down. I wanted to know how it ends."

"Is that . . . my Calculus book?"

"Yeah, I finished your math homework, but I didn't do your Lit paper. I remember you getting upset last time I tried to help with that."

"Well, I think that was during your manifesto phase."

I drove her home. I felt guilty for letting her do my homework like that, but I couldn't argue. She knew I didn't have time, and the answers would be right. I'd still have to study like crazy to make sure I knew my stuff before the next test came around. She would help me study if she could, but generally, Sofie didn't explain things well.

These are the things we agreed to, but never had need to say out loud.

We pulled up to our house. I sighed, taking my book and papers from her as she gathered her own stuff. "Thank you, Sofie."

Sofia beamed at me from her seat. "I think today... I want your nose."

Oh no. Sometimes she would ask for a reward when I said thanks. I blushed, "Oh come on, Sof, I'm going to be late."

"Acquiesce now, or I'll ask for your nipple."

"No! No, my nose is fine. Come on, let's get it over with." I sat back in my seat smiling, wondering how horrible a person I was.

Sofia leaned over my seat, and placed kiss after kiss on my nose, like she was kissing the thing off my face. She would stop when it was "gone", usually at about twenty kisses or so, coinciding at about the same time she couldn't keep from laughing.

It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time! It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time!

Her alarm went off, she kissed my nose one more time, and Sofia ran into the house, waving goodbye.

The one time she asked for my nipple? That made for a weird Christmas morning.

++++++++++++++++++++++

"Welcome to the Feedin' Trough. I'm Carlos and I'll be your waiter. Would you like to hear our specials today?"

"Carlos Lorenzini?"

Shit. I got a job all the way out here specifically so nobody would recognize me. Who were these guys? I didn't know them from school.

"Yeah, that's me. Have we met?"

"Preston. Heartville Wildcats? We ran your ass down on the field last year."

He was right. That game sucked for me, a bad loss. "Oh right, hey, how are you doing?"

"I'm doing good, man. How about you? I remember people talking about you like you were a golden boy."

"Well, I'm going to be in the game next week. We're playing the Owls."

"No, I mean... I'm not meaning to be rude, but I heard you were like, rich. What the fuck you doin' here, man?"

" . . . My folks say work builds character. You know how it is. Can I get your drink order?"

++++++++++++++++++++++

I unlocked the door at 12:25 AM. Mom's lights out, Sofie's lights out. Good.

I let out a shaky yawn that went on for too long and reached to the top of the fridge for my jar of two-dollar tips and the shoe box of bills to pay. The jar was lighter, and it had coins in it. I sifted through what bills I could, separating the impossible from the merely improbable. There in our big white kitchen with its expensive appliances I wondered how long it would be until we had to move.

I started on my Lit paper, but after an hour and a half I found myself staring at the same word for a full minute before I realized that I needed to keep reading. The previous night, sleep never really found me -- the body was willing, but my mind wouldn't cooperate. The stresses of returning to school, and the dad thing, and (oh god) the whole Trista thing were gnawing at a part of my brain last night that enjoyed the glow of my alarm clock, so my eyes just stayed open. I was feeling that same way again.

Mom had pills, I knew. I'd never tried them before, but if ever there were a time...

Fumbling in the mostly-dark through Mom's bathroom cabinet, I found the correct sleeping pills. My petite Mom takes one, so I figured I'd take two, and take the rest of the bottle up to my bathroom to use the rest of the week. I took a sip from the sink, and felt okay. Surely, it would get easier each day; I just needed some sleep, and I'd be good for the fight again tomorrow.

As I reached the stairs, the pile of dishes in the kitchen sink caught my eye. I might as well do them while the pills kick in, then I would be good for bed.

++++++++++++++++++++++

Kisses on my hands, and why was I resting my head on a plate? It was still dark in the kitchen; still lights-out.

"Wa-goo. Up, up off the floor," in a whisper.

I complied. She was beautiful.

She held three of my fingers with one hand to gingerly lead me; her other hand held the pill bottle. Up the stairs, careful, careful, my little lure. I was E.T. and her tiny bottom my Reese's Pieces, I laughed.

I was in bed, being tugged around a bit, to and fro. She did not know how to dress me for bed. I do not sleep naked, but I did that night, and she was glowing and pleased.

I think I slept.

It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time! It's Peanut Butter Jelly Time!

I sat up in bed, I don't know for how long. A while. Still so dark. I recognized the song, it had already stopped, but it had sounded kind of muffled and far away. Familiar, it must be the doorbell. Sofie's doorbell, right? I needed to answer the door. Who would drop by so late? I hoped she didn't have a boyfriend. Oh wait. Something didn't make sense. I would ask whoever was at the door.

I got up and staggered into the bathroom that adjoined our two rooms. She was talking in her jibberish on the other side of the door- our jibberish, but I didn't understand it. Maybe she was talking about my trip to Ohio. I answered her door.

Inside, her room was strung and lit with red Christmas lights. Sofie lay on her bed, naked, glowing red, knees drawn up all the way to her shoulders. Her fingers worked at her pussy with a heat and significance that I could not grasp, around and around then in and out. My sister. Around and around then in and out.

She looked like a heartbreak.

I shook my head to break the spell, but the slender sight held me captive. Just as naked, I reached down and took myself in hand, then rubbed and stroked silently with the same pace as my sister, because it seemed right and wrong. Compelled. I was watching her through a veil in my mind; a fine blur that made me doubt reality. I wondered if she saw me, and as I wondered:

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