The Art of Lying

Part II - Chapter 3: The Problem With My Art

Nothing happened until the end of the week, but more on that later. Aaron and me were still close, though I was still confused, and my mind churned whenever I saw him. Still, things were going well... Unless you count the psycho apparently trying to ruin my life. I hadn't heard any more from 'The Snake', but I was more worried than ever. That text message had scared me for one main reason: I never gave my number out, apart from to Aaron and to my family, and I was pretty sure neither of those groups would give my number to anyone like him. Everywhere I looked, I was searching for that same face, though I couldn't see him anywhere, which was only more worrying.

Now, I know what you might be thinking. You might be thinking that he kidnapped me again, or grabbed me in a crowd... Well, not quite. Again, this was even more terrifying. I knew nothing about this man, not his age, his name or anything. I didn't even know if he was from around here. I'd never been unnerved as much as I was that week.

It was Monday. It was raining. Not much, but a bit. School seemed normal... Nothing out of the ordinary. Just a few differences to normal, but nothing more than inspectors coming in to visit. They looked like every other inspector I'd seen. A man and a woman, each as stonefaced as the other. Grey-haired, wrinkled and serious-faced, they didn't look overly-friendly. They were in my Maths class. They looked over everyone, including me, and noted things down on their clipboards. I mentioned it to Warren, but he just shrugged, stating that: "They're just inspectors." For the time being, I assumed they were.

As usual, Monday brought drama club. Now, I didn't explain much about drama club previously. Drama club was a haven for me. As you'd expect, anyone with my skills would find acting an appropriate vice. That wasn't all that drew me to it, though. I'd known some of the people there for years, longer than I'd known my friends at school. They were all lovely, genuine people. I've mentioned Tommy, and his importance in this story very briefly, but there's much more to him than I can ever explain. Let's start with a physical description. Tommy was very tall for his age. He was lean, and held himself in a confident, assured way, from the mass of experience he'd accumulated. I adored and admired him, I have to admit. He had green eyes, but not as vivid as mine, and jet black, spiked hair, giving him the look of an anime character. Indeed, his features were rather sharp, and he had a small smirk about him, though not an arrogant one. He was my friend, one of my closest.

"Hey, James." Tommy smiled at me as I entered the workshop.

"Hello, Tommy." I smiled back, though I glanced over my shoulder.

"Had a nice week?" He asked me, as usual looking me in the eye. It was an odd thing with him, something I'd commented on. He loved my eyes. He wasn't gay, but he frequently told me how jealous he was of them. That felt odd, someone like him being jealous of me for something.

"Not particularly." I decided to tell the truth, there being no-one else around. I told him what happened, though I left out the details of me being 'different'. He looked extremely pale.

"You're kidding, right?" He asked. I shook my head, though I was still smiling.

"Nope. And now this psycho's trying to ruin me, apparently..." I still smiled, though I wasn't sure why. "Fun." I said, sarcastically.

"This is serious, James." Tommy said, his face still pale and looking worried.

"I know." I nodded. "Trust me, I know. But I can't do a thing until he does something, Tommy... Might as well enjoy what I've got left." I shrugged.

"You sound like you're dying." He stated, though I could tell its nature was questioning. "You sound like it's already over."

"Well... I guess I won't know until it starts." Again, I shrugged, though I was a little surprised at my own wording. My subconscious seemed to be winning back control. Tommy looked at me for a minute, and hugged me tightly. This was odd. He didn't like hugs. I hugged back, before pulling back. "It'll be alright, Tom." I smiled in my way, assured and amused. He smiled back.

"Well... Be careful." He told me, sounding nervous.

"I'm always careful." I confirmed, nodding.

The session turned out to be brilliant. I had fun with my friends there. There were two girls there, who I'd known for a long while, and I cared about a lot. Keira and Amelia, their names were. They were both brilliant. They were a year older than me, and were in their GCSE year, meaning they were usually busy with revision. Still, however, they found the time for drama, and for me. Whenever I actually failed to hide my emotion (which was rare for him, as he's assured me), they were there for me. I never let many other people in. They made me happy, and it made me sad to know that they'd be leaving that year. Still, I had them for the time being, and I knew I had to savour every moment. I talked with them a lot, and enjoyed talking about school - as they went to the same school as me - and how their exams and classes were going. They were friendly, and seemed to be happy around me, though I was never very good at reading faces. They always made sure to include me in conversations, which meant more to me than I could ever show... You know, that's a curse in my ability. I can hide my sadness, but that means I can't help but hide my happiness. People think I'm unappreciative, though really I care more about what they do than anything, and I can't show that. My ability isn't a good one to have. Soon, people assume you don't have feelings... I'd get to that stage frightfully soon. Too soon for comfort.

I truly loved the people at my drama club. They were the best people I knew, and were always happy to see me. I cared so fondly about them, that a thought crossed my mind that day. The Snake had promised to destroy me before killing me... What better way than to get at my friends? I stared at Tommy, at Keira and Amelia, at my other friends, most younger than me. I had to leave. My heart felt heavy, and an intense sadness picked up in my insides. I couldn't even bear to put my mask. I had to say goodbye to all of them, to the people I loved. No... I thought. I couldn't bear that idea... Of never seeing those people again. But I knew it was what was best for them. I had to put that above everything... I decided to make a compromise: I'd go back for one more session, next week, then leave. I'd say my goodbyes next week. Then, no matter how hard it would be, I'd leave. I'd quit.

That next week wasn't the last time I saw those people.

But I'd wish it was.

And so would they.