Chapter 2

"I'm calling your dad, what you are doing with Lisa's laptop?" mom says walking to the living room. I am awakened from my unusual thoughts. "Doesn't she have some boring reading club or something?" Dua says shutting down my laptop.

The library is only open on Mondays and Fridays. She knows that. 

"Dad can give her a ride home, or she can call me you know, she's been so distant lately," mom said, before calling dad.

Dua seems a bit scared too, although she tries too hard not to act so. "I'll call Aarish" Dua said. Wait. Why does she have Aarish's number? Why? It's so weird seeing my sister calling my best friend.

Mom leaves the living room, just as dad picks up, shoot, the ladyfingers must be burning.

I turn my attention back to my sister; first of all she is not fond of Aarish. She doesn’t really like any of my friends actually, Aarish is super nice, I don't know why Dua hates him. She's crazy.

"Hey Aarish, its Dua, Liza's sister" she speaks, with nothing but annoyance in her tone.

"Hey, I was actually about to call you" his voice clear. I love his voice.

"Whatever. Is Lisa with you?" Dua finishes.

"No I haven't seen her since yesterday, is she sick? I can't reach her cell" worries clear in his voice. He worries about the most ridiculous things.

"No, ok bye" she hangs up before he can react.

She throws herself on the couch after she realizes that she is standing.

Her phone chimes again. It has to be Aarish.

"What?" Dua snaps.

It’s Aarish. 

"What's going on? Did you guys have a fight again? Is that why she skipped school today?" Aarish asks.

"She didn't skip school today you idiot, and also that's none of your business "she scolds.

"She wasn't at school today; I asked Maya and that Girl with a ring on her nose"

That made me laugh, He always forgets Lena's name.

"Where is she then? Dad dropped us both at school today, she said she had something boring to do, we were so early, and the classes weren't opened yet, I came back home because I left my......wait why am I even saying all this to you?" ash says in a cold tone.

"I swear she wasn't at any of her classes," he says. Even more worried.

…

Dear diary, 

This is something brilliant I’ve come up with; I call it –The truth about lies

What do your parents know about you? If your parents are around your answer would be- everything. But, no. There are things you want to tell them, there are things you will tell them and there are things that you'll never tell them.

I am full of them. If I had told them from the beginning it'll all be fine, at least it would be easier. Lies, they grow and spread so deep, most of them overlap and outgrow others. 

                    If you are willing, to tell the truth, or you are thinking  about doing so, you will find out that then all-(almost all) of your reality is  funded by lies and it is better to give up than confess.

That's exactly what I did. Someone else made my choice. Even if it was different, it would have happened somehow. You'll be amazed by how the parts you thought was true are not so anymore. 

It's really fun, lying. Think of it as a drug, the more you use it, the harder it gets to stop.

 You might even get to a point where you can't exist without it.

I know because I couldn’t. 

…

This can't be happening. Can it? My mother, she never cries. 

She is the kind of mother that makes sure you double-check your packing when you are off to college, not the one who cries at the doorstep.

 The look on my sister's face explains that she is stunned too by my mother's form or the fact that led to it. Ok, I am not imagining stuff again, my other is crying. Our house feels so empty and big. It's not that big at all, and it's only four of us.

"Hey, she's fine. Trust me, we'll find her" my father said.

 What if I do not want to be found?

My mother looks at my father. Her cheeks are flushed crimson. Her eyes are so tired it's obvious as the word "tired" is written on her eyelids. For a split second, I thought she was looking at me. I bet she'll do anything to see me again.

 That's when it hit me; no one is ever going to see me again.

"I know, I am going to kill her when she gets here," my mother said to herself than to my father.

 My mother is going to kill me. It seemed funny somehow. She was going to kill me. The words kill; it has a meaning and a memory, both flawless.

…