The Liar
Chapter Three

Cruising along the road on the Liar’s suicide machine with her arms wrapped around his waist, Michele tapped the angel on the shoulder. He twitched his head to the side to let her know he was listening.

“Stop here!” she yelled.

Obligingly, he slowed the motorcycle down, pulling into an available parking spot. Taking his helmet off, he shook out the jagged spikes of his unkempt hair before turning around to face the red-haired teenager sitting behind him. At this point, she had taken her helmet off, and it was sitting in her lap, resting against his hip.

“Why here?” he asked. “Your house is still two blocks away.”

“Exactly. My mother’s a nurse, and she’s off today. What would she say to me showing up on the back of some strange man’s motorcycle?”

“So you’ve got yourself a boyfriend—about time?”

She punched him very hard in the kidney. He wheezed out a laugh, his eyes watering. Taking a deep breath, he sat up, disregarding the ache in his side.

“Okay, I see your point. Your mother might take it badly. Although, I don’t see why she would. I’m an upright young man.”

“You have a motorcycle. You broke into my house last night. And I’d be ashamed if you’d spent so much time with writers and still didn’t know what ‘pedophilia’ meant.”

“What does it mean?” His eyes were wide and he stared at her, waiting for her response.

“I’m surprised someone hasn’t killed you yet.”

“There have been times,” he told her, shaking his head mock-regretfully. “But I’ve managed to pull through.”

“Do you remember how, last night, I said that I’d thought about killing you? I’m thinking about it again.”

“And it’s still not nice.” They were now standing beside the bike. “Well, then, I’ll see you tomorrow,” he promised, leaning down and kissing her cheek.

She flicked him on the nose.

“Owww.” He rubbed it, grinning. “Tell me, do I get my hat back?”

“No.” She shouldered her bag and walked off, towards her house.

“Well, I love you too.” Chuckling, he hopped back on the motorcycle and zoomed away in the opposite direction.

Michele sighed. The Liar was exhausting, and she’d been around him for less than twenty-four hours. What state would she be in after years of his company? She shuddered, not wanting to contemplate his continued presence. He was interesting, the most interesting person she’d ever met, and quite clearly brilliant on a philosophical level, but he was tiring.

She opened the front door and called out, “I’m home!” A muffled reply came from her mother as Michele slipped off her shoes and made her way down the hall, into the sanctuary of her room.

The first thing she did was take out the Liar’s hat and place it on her desk. It really was a nice hat. Then she collapsed into her chair and rummaged through her bag, pulling out homework. It wasn’t much, a little math, a little English. Certainly not enough to keep her occupied for the rest of the night. When she’d finished, she turned to face her computer screen. But before she turned it on, she stopped. She just didn’t feel like writing, and it would be a mistake to force it. So she spent the evening watching TV.

Morning came with a knocking at her door, since she’d forgotten to set the alarm. She groaned and mumbled something grumpily, but she sat up and rubbed her eyes. Crawling out of bed, she launched into her morning routine, and in an hour she was walking down the road, heading for school.

“Good morning!” a cheerful voice declared from her right. Michele jumped, startled. Glancing over, she saw it was just the Liar. “Have a good evening? Sleep well?”

“…Go away,” she moaned. “It’s too early for you.”

“But, but, it’s not one in the morning. It’s eight-thirty. I thought you’d be happy that I managed to restrain myself.” He pretended to pout, green eyes looking earnestly at her.

Michele stared at him, eyebrows raised. He chuckled and raised his hands, giving up. Then he thrust them into his pockets and looked over at her curiously.

“So, what are we doing today?”

“I am going to school. I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“You mean I can’t come?” The Liar twisted his inflection to wrap the words with child-like disappointment.

“No. And why do you persist in doing that?”

“Doing what?” he rejoined, instantly flipping over to innocent-mode.

“That. Every other sentence, you completely change your mood. And it’s not like I don’t know that you’re doing it. The abrupt changes make it rather obvious. It’s annoying.”

“I guess my dreams of being an actor are crushed, then.” He sighed theatrically, perking up again almost immediately. “Do you think any of your teachers would mind if I stalked you all day?”

Michele stared at him again. After a moment, she deigned to answer. “Yes. Yes, I think they would. I think they would mind a lot. I would mind a lot. On the whole, there’d be so much minding, we’d call the police on you.” She contemplated this. “So go right ahead! Stalk me all day. Then you’ll go to prison, and be out of my life.”

“Don’t be silly.” The Liar snorted contemptuously and waved his hand in dismissal. “The police have never had much luck catching me.”

“…What the hell did you do?”

“Oh, you know,” he replied evasively, glancing to the side. “This and that.” He worked to keep a smirk off his face.

“Somehow, this doesn’t comfort me.”

They were at the school now, and Michele was hoping to lose him. It wasn’t likely, but there was a chance. And then her friends came up, waving and calling out greetings. There went that slight hope of escaping him. Now that she was pinned down, he didn’t even have to try.

“So he’s still around, huh?” asked Rachel.

“Yes, I am.” The Liar grinned down at her two friends, eyes gleaming. “I believe I mentioned I just got into town…? I should be hanging around for a while.”

Michele barely managed to stop herself from shooting him a glare.

“Why are you here, though?” asked her other friend. “You don’t look like a high school student.”

“That, my dear, would be because I’m not.” Nor ever was one. “I just offered to escort Michele to school. She kindly let me. I might drop in later, but I’ve got something to do today.” He smiled charmingly.

They took him at face-value, and turned to go back inside. “Hey, we’ll be in the cafeteria. Come down when you finish up with Scien.” The two girls giggled as they walked off.

“I really am going to kill you.”

He grinned. “No, you’re not. It’s not in your nature.”

“I’ll make an exception.”

“So hostile.” He pulled a resigned face.

“Die. Now, what is this ‘something to do’?” she questioned suspiciously, peering at him over the rim of her half-moon glasses.

The Liar rocked back onto his heels. “Mmmm. Just something.”

“What’s just something?”

“You really are paranoid,” he observed, seeming delighted. “Very well, I shall tell you.” He dropped back down to the flat of his feet. “I am going to find a tavern.”

“You’re going to look for a bar,” the writer repeated flatly. “And do what? Get a job?”

He seemed startled at the idea. Once it sank in, the process of him mulling it over was visible. “I wasn’t going to, but now that you mention it, that’s a great idea! I can work mornings and early afternoons and late night. That way my afternoons and evenings will be free to spend with you!”

“And when do you plan to sleeping?”

Blinking, he stared at her. “I don’t need sleep.”

“Right. Angel. Of course,” she concluded sourly.

“My original plan was merely getting drunk, but I like this one better! Because I can just add it on, and it won’t appear so suspicious, me showing up in town.”

“Because a crazy angel who doesn’t sleep stalking a sixteen-year-old isn’t suspicious at all,” the writer muttered under her breath.

“I should call Marcus,” the angel continued on, seemingly oblivious of the comment, although the girl suspected he had heard and was merely choosing to ignore it. “He’s done bartending work recently, I believe…And I haven’t seen him in a while…Maybe in a bit.”

“Who’s Marcus?”

“You’ll see.” That flashing grin, all white teeth and mischievous “charm” was back. “Actually, I think you’d rather like Marcus…”

“I’m going inside now,” she decided, having reached her limit of tolerance. “Please disappear.”