Lies and November Nights This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine.

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Behind me, a circle of friends huddles together, and from their intense talk, an occasional word drifts through the air to my ears. Just minutes before, as we had walked to the corner, past houses shrouded with the night and street lights hunched over, I asked Sara not to get into her boyfriend's car. Now, as I stand waiting for Sara shivering in the November night, the freezing air singes my fingers and burns my cheeks. She stand three steps ahead of me. In the maroon car, a shadow sways uneasily, black against the blue darkness of the night. The hushed drone of a deep voice from the car is punctuated by Sara's higher tones, and through all the talk, the radio permeates the air with music.

Although he said he hadn't been drinking, I was sure he was lying. If I was right, he might turn a corner too suddenly, not see the telephone pole as he rounded the bend, or miscalculate the size of a driveway. Into the night I poured out these fears to Sara, and she swore that she would not get into the car. Looking at me with her pure blue eyes, holding my cold hand in hers, with her awkward half-smile, she swore to me. "Rebecca, I will walk home. He can follow in his car." I turned to her, and we exchanged a quiet smile, for we were the best of friends. Her word was as good as gold to me. She was so honest and sincere.

Now, as she leans against the car and the minutes drag on, everything is very clear in my eyes. The trees stand out, with their bent limbs reaching like gnarled hands, for the few remaining leaves. The stars burn like pinpoints of fire. Sara and the figure talk on. Our friends move about impatiently behind me; and, rustling their winter jackets, they urge me to start walking back with them. They tell me Sara will follow. They tell me she will come home soon. And so, I step to her side and whisper to her. I strain to see the person buried in the black interior of the car, but to no avail.

"You're walking, right, Sara?" I ask one more time. She nods, and I move off. But, looking back from the end of the street, I see her get into the car and the shape inside swallow her up. As I turn back to my friends, the night dissolves into a sea of tears.

Countless times she had spoken my thoughts, dreamt my dreams and read my mind. Why then does she refuse to accept my logic? Why does she coldly ignore my suggestions? Why are my fears so alien to her? Desperately, I try to create answers to the questions that flood my splattered mind.

I search wildly for an excuse for her actions but despite my panic, reason forces itself into my mind. I know, even in my disbelief, that this is the bitter reality I must face. All the little lies from the past year worm their way into my head. All excuses for her duplicity fall apart under this concrete proof that her word is nothing.

My words that I thought had made such a difference, had fallen on deaf ears. Now her total disregard for all I had said and done shocks and hurts me. The shadowy figure had taken her in with sugary words that I knew meant nothing. As the car passes us, the red taillights glow like bloodshot eyes, mocking me. Finally, they disappear with the shadow and Sara, leaving me betrayed and lost in the November night.

This work has been published in the Teen Ink monthly print magazine. This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.






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