Drowning in Deception (3 page)

Her mother set her knitting in
her lap and turned her attention to Clover. Her hand reached up to her forehead
to shade the sun. “Well, how was the writing today?”

“Oh. It was okay.” Did her mother
know? Could she tell just by looking at her that she was now a criminal? Clover
could feel the guilt rising from her neck and into her cheeks.

She looked her daughter up and
down. “Where’s your bag?”

Biting her lip, she said, “I, um,
forgot it in the woods.”

Aspen Swelton laughed, her whole
face lighting up. Her eyes danced and her lips turned up perfectly at each
corner of her mouth, revealing straight, white, perfect teeth. Clover thought there
was no woman more beautiful than her mother. “Well, that’s got to be a first. Are
you going to go back and get it?”

If she said no, her mother would
know something was wrong, so she had no choice. She couldn’t tell her that a
grubby looking boy in the woods across the boundary line had stolen it from her.
She didn’t want to lie to her mother, but she had to. “Yeah. I’ll go look for
it tomorrow.” She swallowed a hard lump in her throat.

Her mother stood and walked
toward Clover; her petite, lean frame moved gracefully. The top of her head
reached only as high as Clover’s chin. At seventeen, Clover was noticeably
taller than her mother, revealing that her height must have been inherited from
her father.

An eyebrow shot up high on her
mother’s forehead. “Are you okay, Clover? You don’t seem content.”

“I’m fine. Just mad at myself for
losing my book, that’s all.”

The other eyebrow shot up to join
the first one. “Losing it? I thought you said you forgot it.”

Clover’s subconscious swore at
her. This was why she never lied. First of all, she didn’t see the point in
lying, and second, she wasn’t very good at it. She was afraid that if she
fumbled much more, the truth about the boundary line would come out. “Yes, I
did. That’s what I meant. I forgot it.” She didn’t want to face her mother any
more, certain that her mother could read the lie in her face. So she told her she
was going to her room to read and hurried into the house before she could be prodded
with more questions.

***

Clover spent the rest of the
afternoon on her bed, reading. It helped take her mind off her stolen bag and
book. Instead, she lost herself in the story of two boys who dug a giant hole
in the ground and found a magical, ancient relic.

When she heard her father in the shower,
she went downstairs to help her mother prepare supper. Her father’s work at the
Watch Tower required him to be there all night long, so he slept during the
day. The family’s routine was always the same. After his shower, they ate
supper and then he went to work. This happened every day like clockwork. He
rarely took a day off, and when he did, it was only for special occasions.

The table was set, and a pork
roast with all the trimmings was steaming on the table when he came down the
stairs dressed for work in a suit and tie, smelling fresh and clean. He was a
big man, but not in an obese sort of way. He was broad and sturdy with solid
muscles. One of Clover’s favorite things about him was his roaring, contagious
laugh, complimented by his huge, toothy grin. He was a jovial man, always
smiling, which was a good thing, because on the rare occasion when Clover had
seen him frown, it had terrified her. The same large, toothy grin, when turned
the other way around seemed to give his face a menacing quality.

“Hello, Daddy,” she said, wrapping
her arms around his middle and squeezing lovingly.

“Hello, my lucky four-leaf
Clover,” he replied, squeezing back. He walked to the table, ruffled Sprigg’s
hair as he asked him how his day was.

Clover may have been Daddy’s
little girl, but she knew that he had a special place in his heart for his son.
Sprigg was his little man, and their father made no secret about his admiration
for him. But Clover wasn’t the least bit jealous of this. If anything, it
caused her to respect her father that much more.

 Bromer Swelton gave his wife a big
kiss on the lips before taking his seat at the table and launching into an
excited conversation with Sprigg about playing ball, various throwing
techniques and other such things that Clover had no interest in.

The family followed his lead, taking
their places at the table, and were all set to begin dishing up their food when
the doorbell rang.

“It’s for you,” chimed her
mother. “I’m glad he was able to come. I invited Zander for supper.” She smiled
knowingly at Clover. “You get the door and I’ll get a place setting for him.”

“Hi Clove,” he said when she opened
the door. He stepped inside, giving her a wisp of a peck on the cheek.

She smiled appreciatively at her
boyfriend. They had been best friends since the tender age of five. Up until their
early teens they had been practically inseparable, always at each other’s
houses or running around the playground together. When puberty had hit, they
drifted apart somewhat, Clover needing more time for girl things; fashion,
make-up and so on, and Zander needing more time for whatever it was that boys needed
to do. But in the past few years they had become inseparable again.

Seeing him at the door made her realize
that she hadn’t seen much of him in the past few weeks. Her mother must have
picked up on it too, which Clover suspected was why she had invited him for
supper. It was always assumed by their parents that the two of them would eventually
marry, as was also assumed by Zander and Clover. It just seemed to be the
natural progression of life. He was a very nice looking young man, with his
sand-colored hair and creamy-white skin. Clover supposed that she would be very
content to be his wife and the mother of his children. It would be a good life.

They took their places beside
each other at the table as her mother started pouring large glasses of milk for
everyone.

When she reached for Zander’s
glass, he covered it with his hand. “No, thank you, Mrs. Swelton. I’d prefer
water, if you don’t mind.”

Her father turned to him with a
furrowed brow. “You’re not having any milk?” Shock painted the edges of his
voice.

Zander smiled in the easy way he
often reserved for her parents. “I’ve already had two big glasses today, Mr.
Swelton, and if I drink too much, it upsets my stomach.” 

Bromer smiled back as he nodded. “I
see. Well, good. It’s important to drink lots of milk to be healthy and strong.
Did you know that a study was done? It was found that the few people in Eadin
who commit crimes are not milk drinkers.”

Clover felt her face pale. Could he
know about her indiscretion from earlier? That she had committed a crime? She
did drink milk, and lots of it. Three times a day, actually.

She dared a glance around the
table. Thankfully nobody seemed to notice the panicked look on her face.

“Yes, sir,” said Zander. “I have
heard that before.” Clover swelled with pride at Zander’s respect for her
father. What he had said was common knowledge. Everyone knew all the great
benefits of milk. But one of her father’s favorite things was to preach about
those benefits endlessly. She was happy that Zander seemed more than willing to
take it in stride and be polite.

They ate in silence for a while,
but it wasn’t awkward. Zander had spent so much time at their house that her family
was used to him and he too was comfortable with them. She did notice, though,
that he didn’t rest his foot on top of hers under the table like he usually did.
She decided that he must not have been feeling very flirtatious at the moment.

Her mother finished what was on
her plate and put her fork down, clasping her hands in front of her on the
table. “So, Zander,” she said, giving him a wide grin, “what are you and Clover
up to tonight?”

Zander shifted uncomfortably in
his seat, his face turning a little whiter than usual. “Well, actually, Mrs.
Swelton, I have plans tonight.” He cleared his throat. “But if it’s okay with
Clove, I’d like to take her out tomorrow night instead.”

Clover could hardly believe her
ears. Zander - not wanting to take her out. It was a first. What could he
possibly be doing that was more important than spending time with her? She
couldn’t help but feel hurt, even though she knew they would be together the
following night.

“It’s okay with me,” she managed
to get out with a small grin. She knew, as did everyone else in the room, that
she would get over it quickly.

“Very good, then,” her mother’s sing-song
voice said.

***

That evening when the sun had
drifted over the distant hills, Clover was still feeling sulky. It wasn’t like her
to hold a negative feeling for so long, so she told herself it was due to
having had a bad day. Perhaps if she still had her bag and her workbook, Zander’s
ditching her wouldn’t have seemed so hurtful.

But she did know that she needed
to get out of the house. She needed something to do, so she hurried from her
room and down the stairs to the front door.

“Clover, where are you going?” her
mother called from the kitchen.

“I’m going for a walk. Maybe I
can find Mella or Chantille and we can hang out.”

Her mother emerged from the
kitchen and reached into the closet. She handed Clover a sweater as she stood
on her tippy toes to kiss her daughter’s forehead. “It’s getting chilly. Have
fun.”

Her mother had been right. The air
outside was cold, so she gratefully stuffed her arms into the sweater’s sleeves
and zipped it up to her chin. Winter was calling that it was heading their way
soon. Even the maple and blue spruce trees that lined the street seemed to be
shivering into themselves. She shoved her hands in the pockets of the sweater
and silently scolded herself for not having changed from her skirt into pants. 

As she walked along, she was thinking she
should go to the Watch Tower market the next day to pick up a new workbook. She
had come to terms with the fact that she would never see her bag or old book
again, but at the very least she could rewrite the stories contained in the
stolen book.

The bottom two levels of the Watch Tower
housed Eadin’s marketplace. The upper of the two was entirely for people who
made their wares to give away to those who wanted or needed them. The main
floor was where they went to pick up the essentials of life. That’s where all
of the food came from. Each person was permitted to take things totalling no
more than forty credits per day, which added up to quite a bit of food. It was
a good system and nobody was ever hungry. The Watch Tower market was also the
place to get any needed supplies. Cooking utensils, building materials,
anything really, could be picked up there. Often times, things would need to be
placed on special order, but no matter what it was, it would find its way to
the Watch Tower market within the week. It was almost like magic.

Lost in her thoughts about picking up a
new workbook and a new bag, she stopped in her tracks as she neared Zander’s
house. It was ten doors down the street from her family’s home and identical,
as all the houses on this street were. The only difference was the color. Zander’s
family had painted theirs sky blue and the door and window frames were peach-colored.

The reason she stopped was because there
were several people gathered on the steps outside Zander’s front door. From
what she could see, there were four people. She watched the door open and saw Zander’s
head pop out, acknowledging his visitors with a smile. They all entered the
house and the door slammed shut behind them.

Her mouth hung awkwardly open for a
moment. Was Zander having a party? And if so, why hadn’t he invited her? Why
had he told her mother he had plans for the night? Surely there must be some
sort of misunderstanding. Zander would never purposely leave her out. She would
get this all cleared up right away.

She walked up to the front door and
raised her hand, knocking four times. She waited, but nobody answered. She
would just have to go in and figure things out for herself. It wasn’t as if she’d
never walked into this house before. She’d been here a thousand times.

She entered and quietly clicked the door
closed behind her, listening. There was no one around, and she heard nothing. Zander’s
parents must be out for the evening. She walked to the kitchen and dining room,
then padded up the stairs to the bedrooms, but could find no trace of a single
person. Zander and his friends must have gone out the back door.

Clover went back to the kitchen and was
about to open the door to the back yard, when her ears caught the sound of muffled
voices. They were coming from the basement. This was very odd, since like her
family’s house, Zander’s family only used the basement for storage.

She started down the stairs. Certainly, this
was all just a mistake. In that instant she decided she wanted to surprise Zander
and his friends by showing up at their little party. A grin formed on her lips
at the idea, and she stopped half-way down so she could hear what was going on.
A surprise was always best when executed at just the right moment.