As we get close to the house we can hear that the party is in full swing.
“Sounds like a cool vibe,” puffs Nomusa. “We should have stayed here. Instead we’re probably about to get gated for the rest of our lives.”
Nomusa always has a positive attitude. In fact, this is probably the most pessimistic thing I’ve ever heard her say. It feels like a prophecy of doom. My mom’s always trusted me and now she’s about to discover that I’ve really let her down.
The back gate is closed but Deevya gives it a push and it swings open.
“Keep it cool guys. If you have to face the music then deal with it when that happens. But don’t give up yet, and don’t give yourselves away. I think we might just pull this off,” she says.
The kitchen door is wide open and there’s nobody in there – everybody’s on the dancefloor in the lounge.
“Ok! Simon, if you could please put Hope down on a chair at the kitchen table. You’re a star for carrying her home, thank you! Nomusa, get some ice from the freezer and wrap it in a tea towel to make an ice pack. Hope, put your foot up on the other chair and wrap that ice pack around your ankle.”
While Deevya’s dishing out orders at the speed of light, she whips an apron off the hook on the back of the door and puts it on to hide her ripped top.
“I’m going to find your mother,” she says as she dashes off through the house.
Within a minute she’s back with my mom and Zack right behind her.
“Oh my poor baby,” wails my mom as she rushes across the room and puts her arms around me.
“Don’t worry mom, I’ll be fine.”
But the instant I see her the tears start to pour again and I feel about five years old.
“So as I was saying, I’d just finished putting together the last of the party snacks just a minute ago,” improvises Deevya, “when Hope came to help me. And she’s simply not used to those high heels you know, and as she was walking across the room she just fell out of her shoe and twisted her ankle. It swelled up quite quickly so I had to cut the strap of her shoe to get it off. But the ice will help. And I don’t think her ankle’s broken or anything serious so don’t freak out, just a little sprain.”
“You’re so hot and sweaty!” exclaims my mom in alarm as she puts her hand on my arm.
“That’s not from the pain,” says Deevya, “we’ve been dancing in the lounge all night you know, and this humidity is hectic.”
Nomusa and I both stare at Deevya in astonishment. I’m astounded by how smoothly the lies have poured from Deevya’s lips. If I didn’t know the truth I would have believed every word that she’d just said. From behind my mother’s back Deevya smiles at me triumphantly and gives a thumbs up. I don’t smile back. Somehow now that my mom’s here my good sense seems to have returned. And lying to my own mother seems like the most terrible thing to do.
I know Deevya’s s trying to help keep me out of trouble, but as she keeps lying I know that she’s digging me into an even deeper hole.
All night I’ve been going along with Deevya’s plans and games, but sitting here in this situation I realise that doing so was a big mistake. I don’t like being a part of this web of deceit.
WHAT DO YOU THINK: Do you think there’s a trick to getting away with a lie? What is it?