Busted... again

Now that I’ve made all of you nice people doubt my sincerity (and possibly my age), I guess it’s time to get on with it and confess Big Lie Number 2. And just to clear things up for J. Cosmo - I would never lie to you, my dear. And Jenners – 12?? Come on! I promise I really am an adult. (Most days.)

No, the second lie once again dates back to my rebellious high school days. I don’t know how my parents dealt with me back then. Bless their poor souls.

It was my senior year. The day started like any other. I woke up and got ready for school, no big plans for deception. Then the phone rang. My boyfriend’s car wouldn’t start and he needed me to come pick him up for school. Looking back, I blame this whole thing on him. He was always such a trouble maker! (And of course, I was a saint.)

When I got to his house, he had a sneaky little smile on his face. I knew he was up to something. As soon as he got in the car, I knew what it was. The whole way to school he said things like, “Wouldn’t you rather go fishing today?” “Let’s go to Oak Mountain and go hiking.” “It might rain this afternoon. We could have a movie day.” So, being the diligent, hard-working student that I was, I turned to him and said, “Okay. But I have to take Jeanne home this afternoon, so we need to be at the school by three to get her.”

I know. He practically twisted my arm, right?

I turned the car around and we were off to spend a Friday at Oak Mountain. It seemed perfect, too. The following Monday would be our class canoe trip, so we were basically giving ourselves a four day weekend. Not too long after we started fishing, the rain came. After convincing Adam that it was time to go (lightning storms aren’t the best when you’re sitting on water), we headed back to his house and watched movies the rest of the day.

True to my word, I left his house in time to swing by the school and get Jeanne, who lived across the street from me. I knew Mama sat by the window in the living room every afternoon and would definitely notice if I didn’t drop Jeanne off before I pulled into the driveway. Man, I thought I had it all planned out.

Not so much.

Apparently, that rain storm had been a little worse than we thought. We were under a tornado warning. For most students, that didn’t mean much. Sure, they’d have to go sit in the hall with a book over their head for a bit, but then it would be school as usual. Not for me. When the weather gets bad, Mama likes to check her kids out of school. She likes to take precautions. See where this is going?

Somewhere around 10 that morning, she walked into the office of my high school and told the lady behind the desk that she was there to check her daughter out. After a couple minutes of searching on the computer, the lady asks, “I’m sorry ma’am, but did you think your daughter was at school today?” Ha. Imagine her shock. Then she put it all together. She asked if Adam was at school. “No ma’am. He’s not here either.”

So, she went home and waited. Stewing over this. All day. Waiting for my little lying butt to walk through that door like I’d been at school. And I did.

Her: “How was school today.”
Me: “Oh, it was okay. Just school.”
Her: “Really?”
Me: “Yeah, why?”
Her: “You know we were under a tornado warning earlier today?”
Me: Uh-oh… I'm so busted.

I was grounded. For a long, long time. The weekend was terrible, but in the back of my mind, I knew Monday would still be fun because we’d be canoeing. Or so I thought.

While I was sitting in my first class Monday morning, dressed for the trip, the vice- principle’s voice came over the intercom. He said he needed to see Adam and me in his office immediately.

Well, crap.

Turns out, instead of canoeing, we’d be sitting in detention all day, staring at cinderblock walls. Mr. Roller informed us that he didn’t take skipping lightly. It wouldn’t be fair for us to have fun on the river after missing school all day Friday. He said he hoped it was worth it.

And you know? It kind of was.

But the lesson I learned was this: Mama always knows. I honestly cannot think of one time I did something wrong that she didn’t find out about. I learned to quit trying. Things aren’t nearly as bad if you own up to what you did and apologize before you’re called out.

When in trouble: deny, deny, deny

Weekly writing assignment from Mama Kat:Tell us about a lie you told that you later regretted.

Oooh, which one will I pick? Can I tell two? I know that makes me sound like a really dishonest person, but there are two big lies that stand out vividly in my mind.

Big Lie Number One:
Believe it or not, I stayed in trouble most of my teen years. Not at school and not with the law – but at home, where privileges could be taken away and life could be made as boring as possible. I had a quick temper and a sassy mouth. But Big Lie Number One had nothing to do with either one of those vices. This particular lie was supposed to keep my butt out of trouble. It failed miserably.

When I was sixteen, I began driving my stepdad’s old car. Looking back now, I appreciate it a lot more. But to a teenage kid, a metallic gold 1989 Grand Prix with black tinted windows seemed a little…. Ghetto. In fact, that’s what my friends called it. The gold ghetto car. Nice friends, huh?

Anyway, at 17, my stepdad did something totally unexpected and probably undeserved by my dishonest little self. He bought me a new vehicle. But there was one stipulation: I could only drive it when I wasn’t grounded. If I got in trouble, I had to drive the gold ghetto car. Needless to say, with my track record being what it was, I rarely ever drove the new car. (Despite my best efforts to be good, of course.)

So, you can understand why, when I was finally allowed to drive it, I might have told a tiny little fib to keep myself out of trouble, right? Except maybe it wasn’t so tiny.

One night, my friend Alan and I went to a play that his girlfriend was in. Unfortunately for her, the play was boring and Alan begged me to drive him home. He decided he’d go to her house and wait for her there, so she wouldn’t be too mad when the play was over and he wasn’t waiting backstage. Well, his girlfriend lived in a new neighborhood that still had some construction areas. And the streets weren’t lit. And apparently I’m blind.

As I was turning a corner near the front of the neighborhood, I simultaneously heard a horrendous noise and felt the car shudder and nearly fall apart. I had no idea what I had hit, but I knew I had definitely hit something. I got out of the car and saw a huge, broken piece of concrete lying in the road. I looked under the car to see what the damage was, but because it was so dark, I couldn’t see a thing. So I did the what made the most sense (at the time). I got in the car and drove home.

I honestly thought I was in the clear. The car seemed to be driving okay. I thought it might be pulling to the right a little, but chalked that up to being paranoid. By the following afternoon, I had nearly forgotten my late night accident.

Unfortunately, my stepdad drove the car the next day and, as he had no reason to be paranoid, he had no explanation for the fact that he couldn’t keep the car on the road. Apparently the slight pull that I felt was more like a gigantic jerking that made it nearly impossible to drive.

I was sitting at my cousin’s house that afternoon when he showed up unexpectedly. As calmly as possible, he asked me if I’d had any trouble with the car the night before.

Me: “No. Why?”
Him: “Nothing? No problems? You didn’t hit something? Maybe a bad pot-hole? Or maybe you ran off the road?”
Me: “No. Why?”
Him: “Heather, don’t lie. If you did something, just tell me.”
Me: (relentlessly denying any responsibility) “I didn’t do anything. What’s wrong?”
Him: (holding up a piece of steel, bent in the shape of a Z) “This came from underneath your car. It’s supposed to be straight.”
Me. “Oh?”
Him: “And there’s about $1,600 dollars in other damages. So what did you hit?”
Me: “Nothing…. Oh, you know. There was this one thing….”

Yeah. Needless to say, I didn’t drive that car for quite some time. In fact, I didn’t get to do much of anything for quite some time.

So - lesson learned, right? No more lies from me?

Ha.

Check back later to hear about Big Lie Number 2.