You Know Me Better Than That (A Short Story)

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Authors: Jennifer Blackman
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planted ourselves in front of the big window in the computer room and played Spit on the carpet and Truth or Dare, but without the truth part, because Lisbeth already knew too much about me. I wanted an excuse to talk to Wil, but I was fourteen and old enough to know I didn’t want anything embarrassing or stupid getting back to school, not that I knew what stupid even looked like.
    I had to ease Lisbeth into taking my dares. Stuff like “Just pull the blinds up halfway. Do it real quick. He probably won’t even see your shadow.” She usually refused.
    “I’m not whistling at him, and I’m not winking at him,” she said before slapping the Spit pile. Her reflexes have always been spectacular. She said nobody whistled anymore and all the old movies I’d been watching were making me retarded. When she said that, about me being a retard, I slapped my hand on hers.
    “God, you’re such a sore loser. I slapped like ten minutes ago,” I remember her saying. “Okay, your dare was bad, so it’s my turn. I dare you to flash him from the roof.”
    “You mean like this?” I sprang up and hummed some sexy tune, probably “Bad to the Bone,” thrusting my hips as I lifted my shirt to show my bra. I only had two bras, baby blue and white. I was glad I was wearing the blue one, because it made me feel grown-up.
    I said I’d be right back, and Lisbeth grabbed one of my ankles, squealing. She loved to laugh at me. “Never, ever do that again,” she said.
    I obviously don’t remember exactly what was said, but I do remember that day. The ice-cream man circling the cul-de-sac. Lisbeth combing through her hair with her thin fingers. And then there was Wil flouncing around the shallow end in his blue shorts, flexing and studying himself in the water. We spent the entire morning watching him together.
    Jessie: So you almost flashed Luke Wilson?
    Miranda: Yes and no.
    Jessie: Meaning?
    Miranda: Meaning it seemed like a fine way to get his attention, but I was too prudish.
    Jessie: You were a kid.
    Miranda: I was afraid.
    Jessie: Well, most girls would be. I mean, was he just as handsome as he was in The Royal Tenenbaums ? I’m sure our listeners would love to know.
    Miranda: Brace yourself, Jessica: he was.
    He had the same jaw, like he’d spent half an hour working it out every morning, the same halfway smile and swimmer’s shoulders. He was shorter back then but tan, and he kept his hair buzzed close, so you could see the slope of his cheekbones, and he had these hazel, faded-looking eyes. He’d look right at you when you spoke.
    At first, I was more curious about him than infatuated. The only other boy we’d ever had at the house was a neighbor named Ellery who used to babysit us and had just started at UT, but he didn’t make me nervous like Wil did.
    Jessie: Interesting. This is all so interesting. I really love . . . well, it’s great to get the backstory. It’s just . . . we want your side, but what our listeners would really like to hear about is how you saved Luke Wilson from drowning at The Springs. If you don’t mind.
    Miranda: You know what I think? I think the real reason you’re here has almost nothing to do with my side or my time lifeguarding at The Springs—where there was plenty of blood in the water, not just the thing with Wil. The real reason you’re here is because I’m the sister of the girl who took Luke Wilson’s virginity. And what you actually want to know is what he was like in bed, but for that, you should talk to Lisbeth.
    Lisbeth told you to get lost, didn’t she? I’d love to know what she said, verbatim. Then again, Austin is kind of a drive, much farther than the community college. She’s not as social as she used to be, my sister—with that husband and two soccer players to haul around. Not that we talk anymore anyway. I don’t hate her, though. I save all her Christmas cards.
    I used to bite Lisbeth on the arm when we were toddlers, when she’d steal my stuffed animals

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