“What are these?” asks Amanda.
“Face masks,” says Ellen.
Amanda and Hannah stake out their spots on the carpet and I sit leaning up against my bed. We unwrap our face masks and carefully try to place them on our faces, matching up the eye, nose, and mouth holes.
Willowdean screeches. “This thing is freezing.”
Ellen reaches over and helps her smooth out her mask. “Don’t be a baby.”
“I probably should’ve washed the toothpaste off my chin,” Willowdean says through gritted teeth, to stop her mask from slipping down her face.
Hannah looks around at all of us and then glances at her reflection in the reverse camera on her phone. “We look like serial killers.”
Amanda leans over her shoulder so she can see herself, too. “Oh, yeah. Like we’re wearing the skin of our victims or something.”
“Well, I hear these things are very moisturizing,” I say. “And better to look like a serial killer than actually be one, right?”
Hannah looks at me, a faint grin teasing her lips. “I think maybe there’s such a thing as too optimistic.”
“Okay, okay!” says Ellen. “Enough serial-killer talk. Time for Two Truths and a Lie! Who’s going first?”
Hannah shrugs. “Might as well be you.”
“Fine,” says Ellen with a hint of defiance in her voice.
“Better make it good,” says Will. “I know all your secrets.”
Ellen squints, studying the ceiling for a moment, as her tongue just barely sticks out. This must be her thinking face.
“Okay! Okay! I got it. One, I have bigger feet than my boyfriend. Two, a few weeks ago... after we, ya know, did it and were cuddling, I farted.”
We all erupt in laughter.
“Oh man,” says Amanda. “That’s gotta be true. Why else would you own up to that?”
El shakes her hands, trying to silence us. “Wait! I’m not done. Three, I started my period at my twelfth birthday party.”
“Well, that’s not very interesting,” says Hannah.
Ellen shrugs. “Harder to tell if it’s a truth or a lie then.”
Will opens her mouth to speak, but Ellen slaps her hand over her lips before she can say a word. “And you have to sit this round out.”
“Mop bare,” says Will, her mouth still covered.
“What was that?” I ask.
Will pulls Ellen’s hand away. “Not fair.”
“I’ll allow it!” I say, mimicking the courtroom dramas my dad watches every Thursday night. “Okay, so let’s see.” I eye Ellen’s feet. “Youarepretty tall.”
“So having bigger feet than your boyfriend wouldn’t be that weird,” says Hannah. “But your feet don’t lookthatbig.”
I try to hide my excitement at Hannah’s slight eagerness. She’s like a stray cat—only attracted by disinterest.
“They’re pretty big,” says Willowdean, assuring the rest of us.
“Hey!” I say. “You’re not supposed to be playing this round.”
