The Tangled Web I Weave

Note: This is a twist on my original post The Webs We Weave.

What a tangled web we weave, when first we practice to deceive. Elizabeth!,” rapping the ruler on the edge of my desk as she walked by, Mrs. Wilby ignored me snapping up in my chair with a bleary look on my face.

“Yes, Mrs. Wilby?” I quickly regained my composure.

“How do you interpret Sir Walter’s statement?” She Turned and leveled her no-nonsense stare directly into my eyes.

The truth was, I was having a difficult time remembering what Mrs. Wilby had said just prior to rapping on my desk.  

I must be more tired than I thought.  Usually I could just close my eyes and still pay attention, but that was getting harder and harder.  I’d been waking up at five am every morning to do my paper run, then get to the coffee shop two blocks from the high school by six forty-five, where half the jocks in school stopped by to exchange money for completed homework assignments and papers.  I quickly reviewed the assignments, noting how much I was charging for each type.  This morning the tenth grade  book report was due, so I had spent extra hours in the night writing five reports on The Great Gatsby, three reports on  The Last of the Mohicans, and one on Sense and Sensibility.  I gave Chaz a long, hard stare when I handed that one over.

Before the reports, I told my Dad I was going to Joe’s and biked the four blocks, where I made sure to make small talk with Joe’s Mom before going up to Joe’s room and slipping him a twenty, climbing out the window without a word, down the tree and backtracking ten blocks to Jen’s house.  I quietly snuck through the side door and down into the basement where I tutored Jen for her calculus test the next day.  Then it was over to Lenny’s house, because he was going to fail chemistry if I didn’t help him.  As long as their parents didn’t see me and mention it to my father I would be fine.  I just had another half year to keep this pace, and I would have enough money to get to Florence, pay for tuition and get settled, before my Dad even realized I wasn’t in Cambridge.  A smile played on my face.  I was accepted at the Florence University of the Arts School of Fashion & Accessories Studies & Technology.  Screw MIT.

“Miss Garrett,” Mrs. Wilby was clearly annoyed. “What did Sir Walter Scott mean?” 

I leveled my gaze directly at her.  “He meant that when we decide we must withhold information, it is very likely that one lie will lead to another lie, and then another in order to keep the original information withheld from the intended party.  He is observing that many times to lie is more complicated than to tell the truth.”

“And therefore we can conclude….?”

I smiled.  “The lie had better be worth the complications.”

In response to the “fiction folks” Creative Nonfictional Fiction: Let’s Play!.

PS Click here to see my comments and thoughts on both parts of this challenge.  

I would also be remiss if I did not note that the prompt inspiring my original version of this story came from Monday’s Finish the Story.





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