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White Lie.
By: Alina Soto

     “You’re lying.”
     I turned at the deep rich tone and found a woman with short black hair just long enough to hide her eyes sitting on the cheap park bench behind me. She was looking at the grass, her long pale fingers clasped in her lap. I couldn’t really tell how old she was, maybe 20. Now where the hell had that voice come from?
     “You don’t really want that do you?”
     Jesus the she was a he. He looked at me, fleetingly. I don’t think I saw eyes at all, just shadow. I shrugged, wanting to move away from the It, I stayed grounded to the spot. What the hell had I said?
     “You already are lonely.”
     The It kept staring at the grass. I squinted at him. What the hell? What was this guy’s deal, talking to me out of nowhere when I’m clearly sharing a private conversation with my self?
     “I’m not lonely. Trans—“ The It flinched, drawing his shoulders together, “vvvesss-missions from outer-space keep me company.” I scratched the side of my head. The grass was amazingly green today, like slivers of emerald, straight from the city itself. The It was quiet. The green slivers cradled my shoes, helplessly trying to spear through them. The It was still silent. An ant trekked onto my shoelace. Asshole. The It just sat there.
     The bench was old, black and rusty, and held with the It’s slight weight. It was actually quite ornate, the metal was twisted and engraved with flowers. What the hell was so interesting about the grass IT! I need to dye my hair again. Why were there so many people out today? And why the hell were they all so far away from this freaking bench. I guess since it was so near the lake shore people thought they would drown. Pa-thetic. It was actually a nice day. The lake was gently rippling, still the same piss-bass blue. I forgot my lip ring again. The air smelt sweet, like putrid goldfish. JESUS CHRIST!
     “I’m sorry.” I blurted out the words. Quietly.
The It turned his shadow-eyed face at me. He parted his lips then closed them and returned his attention to the grass.
     I squinted at him again. I had said I was sorry, what the hell. The oversized cream grandma-colored V-neck sweater he wore shifted slightly. Sickly green and purple blotches crept up from the left side of his neck and chest. Bruises. Bad Bruises. I couldn’t squint at him anymore. I didn’t itch anywhere. Now I freaking wished I did.
     “It would be better if she went away.” The It looked up at me as I murmured at the grass. “I never remember her name anyway.” I pulled my hands up into my sleeves, which means they didn’t move at all. My sleeves are always too freaking long.
     “Do you really not remember?” He spoke softly, slow at first. That deep rich voice was so weird coming from someone who looked like an It. His voice could have been feminine, if the female part were on steroids.
     I scuffed the grass with a toe and shrugged.
The It grunted gently, almost like a soft musical hum. His fingers gripped the jean at his knees, and he gazed off into the water.
     “I’m not lying.” I blurted out again.
He stayed quiet. My eyes wandered to the ugly marks under the V-neck; and stayed there as some guy walked by with some dog.
     “I’m not.” I said low enough so only the It could hear me, or not.
     “So then when she’s gone, you’ll be happy.” This time the It looked right at me, lifting his eyes to mine. Now I saw that he didn’t have shadow-eyes, they were thickly rimmed with black-feathered lashes. And the eyes themselves were…colorless, like cold water. They were the color of tears. I held my breath and couldn’t blink.
The It looked down quickly.
     “Will you?”
     “What’s wrong with your eyes?” Jesus that did not just come out of my mouth! I sputtered a few noises, trying to find some excuse for saying the most idiotic thing ever.
     To my complete surprise, the It seemed to relax. His shoulders dropped and he clasped his hands again comfortably in his lap. A tiny half smile appeared at the left corner of his mouth.
     “Will you?”
     Now I blinked. What the hell? I think I stuttered out a no-yes, not thinking at all really. This guy was weird, even for an It.
     “Then why wish her ill? Has she…” The It struck me again with those crazy water-eyes, “hurt you?”
     The It’s marks glowed with a greenish-purplish radiance, attracting my pupils. His thin brows indented slightly and he looked down at himself. With out a sound, he swiftly grasped the edge of the V-neck and pulled it closer to his throat.
     “Excuse me.”
     He got up and turned to leave.
     “Wait!”
     I perhaps had said that too loudly, some random picniquers turned our direction. He looked down at me over his girly shoulder; the It was probably a good foot taller than me.
     He waited.
     What the hell did I stop him for? I searched for something to say but had nothing but a blank. He turned away and took a step.
     “What’s your name?”
     He stopped and didn’t look at me.
     “You won’t remember it.”
     “I will.” My interest returned to the emerald grass.
     “What’s her name?”
     “Mali.” I said without thinking.
     “Edpash.”
     That was the weirdest freaking name I’ve ever heard.
     “Adam.” I said scratching the back of my head.
     “Adam,” he repeated gently, still not looking at me “there are worse things than high school crushes. You’re not hurting yet.” The crazy eyes glanced quickly at me then shadowed. “Don’t let yourself stay lonely.” Then the It walked away, and I couldn’t tear my eyes off his back, even after he had disappeared.