Just then I gave her my smile that no one but her could know, and for a second she almost looks like she wants to smile back at me before I say, "That's it."
"What?" Her fiercely gray eyes were softened with curiosity, but quickly regained their usual concrete defense along with the shy façade she kept to hide it.
"Let's lie."
Her eyebrow twitched a little bit when the word came off my lips, that word that she hated to love, "Lie about…?"
"Us," I grin big, feeling the mania and adrenaline pump through my veins in that unmistakable combination just at the thought of having a partner in my lies, "We can lie about anything, everything. Just think about it, Lucky, can you feel it?"
I realize how close I've come to her when I can hear her breathing hitch a little and I think that mine must have done the same when I thought of the idea, and I can feel the sweetness of her breath when she almost whispers, "Okay."
I couldn't bite down the big, goofy smile that formed on my face at her response.
I guess this all could use a little explanation. I'm named James Sirius Potter, usually J.S. for short. I'm known as the Golden Boy of the school, just like my father was and his father before him, my namesake. But I'm not like them; I never was. I've always been different from the rest of my family.
I can specifically pinpoint the moment I knew I wasn't the same as my siblings and cousins. I was five, which meant Al and Rose were four. I used my superiority to make them believe that if you hold a plastic bag over your head and jump off the roof, you would be able to fly. You can imagine the trouble I got in when Al's femur was snapped in half.
As clear as day I can recall my mother angrily grabbing me by the forearm and dragging me to the kitchen, once my brother was properly taking care of and my cousin had been made to stop her crying. Ginny roughly picked me up and sat me on the counter. She collected herself enough to calmly ask me if I knew what I had done. I coolly told her I didn't, even though she and I both were aware that I'd known exactly what it was. She then told me that lying was wrong.
It was in that exact moment, while I sat on the linoleum counter in the kitchen and heard my mother say those words, that I felt as though some strange sort of bond had been very purposefully cut between my family and me. I still loved them, and I still do, but there was another very large part of my life that at a very young age I realized they would never understand. In fact, up until I saw Lucky lie the first time, I never thought anybody would understand.
With this knowledge that no one else could possibly recognize that high I get with dishonesty, I very quickly decided that as far as everyone else knew I would be the most golden of all the other Potters and Weasleys. That's what they expected of me; this was as clear as was the fact that my name was James Potter. And so I went to Hogwarts, I made it onto the Quidditch team, I made many friends and I gained the favor of my teachers. Nobody ever knew of or found out my lies.
They were usually simple, and only used on strangers so as to not be found out. It was something as easy as giving a girl in a pub the wrong name and number, or telling the cashier at the ice cream shop about all the fish I caught on my latest lake trip with my imaginary fiancé.
Nichola "Lucky" Caraway had never been someone of importance to me. From the view of J.S. the Hogwarts Golden Boy, she appeared to just be one of my brother's closest friends, a quiet student with strange gray eyes and an interesting nickname. I always wondered if it had to do with an anecdote from her past, or maybe even the proximity of her first name to the word nickel.
That's what J.S. saw, but to James the Liar, I saw her for what she was all the way through. Admittedly, it took seven years, but it was worth the wait to finally meet one of my kind. It happened at Diagon Alley, my seventh year was about to begin and our entire family had gone school shopping. We all split up, and I found myself in a bookstore. It was still early in the morning, the sun had risen maybe an hour beforehand. Because of this, there were very few people in there, just some sad looking housewife and myself.
I was looking at some books near the front counter when I heard a bell ring, signaling that someone had come in the door. I saw that it was one of Al's good friends, the girl with the name. I didn't go up to her, for two reasons. Firstly, I wasn't very well acquainted with any of Albus's friends, mostly due to social differences, especially this quiet, plain seeming girl. Secondly, I'd come here hoping to escape my family for a little while, since they all went to the book store closer to the heart of the Alley.
But I did watch as she fearlessly strutted up to the cashier, which was an odd alternative to her usual little self-consciously bouncing walk. And then she began to speak to him.
"Sir! I demand a refund!"
"Err, I'm sorry, ma'am?"
She slammed her hands on the counter between them, her always slightly raspy but usually light voice suddenly loud and apparent, "I bought the book 'An Intermediate Guide to Antidotes' from you the other day. Just yesterday I was reading it, when it suddenly vanished! Poof! Into thin air!"
"Well, erm, would you like to file a report?" the man uncomfortably shifted and fixed his tie.
"Yes, I'd like to file a report! I'm mad as hell!"
He was starting to sweat; I hadn't yet noticed, but I had been starting to feel the exciting, adrenaline-filled high just from watching her lie, "Okay, ma'am, please calm down," the cashier tried, "Please give me your name and I will put you on the list."
"Jean Summers," she purred, and that was the first time I saw that fire in her eyes, burning hot like melted steel. I knew in that instant that she was feeling the same euphoric sensation I was; she was a Liar too.
After wrapping up that last lie, she strutted back out of the book store. I followed her, and saw that right as she walked through the door she reverted back to her little bounce, like she'd gone through some character-changing portal. I had to talk to her.
"Lucky!" I called out, though I think it was the first time I ever talked to her.
She turned around, her face unreadable. It became even more so once she saw that it had been me that had called out to her.
I looked into her stone colored eyes, and then nodded to the little alley not too far from us. I began walking towards it, and she tentatively followed me.
Once we were both hidden from anyone's view, I turned to her, "I know what you are."
She was taken aback, and started to stutter, but I cut her off.
"I know how it feels. The way it makes your heart beat, and you feel that rush come over you like a wave of contentment. I know because I'm like you."
"L-like me?" She still hesitates, but then gains some composure and looks at me straight on.
This almost makes me speechless, but I manage to get out the words, "A Liar."
Lucky nods and swallows, like she had a lump in her throat that only the actual word could dispose of, "School starts in a few days."
I furrow my eyebrows, "Yes, so?"
"I'm trying to get as many in as I can. I can't Lie during school, because it's too risky with people you know when you're all by yourself," to this I nod, I feel the same way.
Just then I gave her my smile that no one but her could know, and for a second she almost looks like she wants to smile back at me before I say, "That's it."
"What?" Her fiercely gray eyes were softened with curiosity, but quickly regained their usual concrete defense along with the shy façade she kept to hide it.
"Let's lie."
Her eyebrow twitched a little bit when the word came off my lips, that word that she hated to love, "Lie about…?"
"Us," I grin big, feeling the mania and adrenaline pump through my veins in that unmistakable combination just at the thought of having a partner in my lies, "We can lie about anything, everything. Just think about it, Lucky, can you feel it?"
I realize how close I've come to her when I can hear her breathing hitch a little and I think that mine must have done the same when I thought of the idea, and I can feel the sweetness of her breath when she almost whispers, "Okay."
I couldn't bite down the big, goofy smile that formed on my face at her response.