No, seriously, she lies about everything.' I'd never lied about everything. This time I wanted to keep a low profile, be invisible, not be the one everyone pointed at when I walked along the corridor: 'See that one? That's Micah. I nodded and mumbled in as low a voice as I could, 'Yes, ma'am.' They were the first words I'd spoken at my new school. 'Is that clear?' Gupta said, still glaring at me. None of them-neither students nor teachers-had ever seen me before. That way I don't have to bother with relaxing or straightening or combing it out. I got the nappy gene so I keep my hair cut close to my scalp. Not often, but enough that I wasn't completely surprised. When I am talking I expect your full and undivided attention. I stopped staring out the window, turned to look at her, wondering if there was another Wilkins in the room. The teacher, Indira Gupta, reprimanded me for not paying attention. It started in the first class of my first day of high school. The first two days of my freshman year I was a boy.

Sarah Washington is rocking back and forth, her eyes enormous. It takes me a moment to realize that half the girls are crying. His body has been found.' Principal Paul's lips move into something between a grimace and a rictus.Ī sound moves around the classroom. Sarah Washington shifts in her chair and its legs squeak painfully loud across the wooden floor. It makes the dust in the air visible and the lines around his eyes, across his forehead, at the corners of his mouth.

A murky sliver of sunlight cuts across the front of the classroom right where the principal is standing. I can hear the minute hand of the clock over the whiteboard. I wonder if he is going to all the classes or just us seniors. 'I have bad news,' the principal says unnecessarily. Principal Paul Jones comes into our classroom.

They tell us Zach is dead during third period on Thursday.

Liar by justine larbalestier