Page 1 of Guava Flavored Lies

CHAPTER1

Fifteen Years Ago

Our Ladyof Solitude High School

“You’re such a brat,”Lauren muttered under her breath, her swollen lip throbbing as she glared at Sylvie.

Sitting across the hallway from her, Sylvie, an irritating girl dressed in a plaid uniform skirt and disheveled white Oxford shirt, narrowed her eyes. “You started it,” Sylvie replied through gritted teeth.

“Girls,” Sister Catherine snapped, her sandy hair peeking out from under her white veil. “That’s enough. Don’t add to the trouble you’re already in. Sister Gloria has no patience for unladylike behavior.”

Lauren looked down at her shirt where the pocket had ripped. Where Sylvie had practically torn it off her chest. Where she still felt the pressure and weight of Sylvie’s fingertips.

Anger flashed hot and renewed in Lauren’s stomach. They wouldn’t be in this situation if Sylvie wasn’t such a nightmare.

“Sister,” a woman from the front office poked her head into the hallway where they waited for the assistant principle to hand out their punishment. “The phone call you were waiting for—”

“Oh, yes. I will be right there. Thank you.” Sister Catherine’s gaze bounced between Lauren and Sylvie as if weighing her options. “Can I trust you two not to inflict any violence upon each other for a minute?”

“I’m not the one who—” Lauren started, but Sister Catherine didn’t let her finish.

“Ms. Machado,” she interrupted. “This is not the time to plead your case. Can I trust you or not?”

Lauren pushed her long, dark brown hair over her shoulder and straightened. “You can count on me Sister.” She turned her attention to Sylvie, her gaze and silence sharpened to a lethal point. “I’m not the heathen.”

Sylvie, her light brown hair no longer neatly confined to her usual high ponytail, seethed. “Heathen? That’s hilarious coming from a—”

“Enough! If I so much as hear a peep out of either one of you I’ll make sure Sister Gloria doubles your punishment. That is no threat, so don’t test me.”

Lauren chewed the inside of her cheek to keep silent as she glowered at Sylvie. It was her fault they were sitting outside the assistant principal’s office instead of in their environmental science class.

Sister Catherine pursed her lips as she crossed her arms over her chest. She expected an answer.

Always the consummate brown-noser, Sylvie chirped like a mangy parrot. “I don’t have a problem following rules.” Smugness festered in her honey-colored eyes as she turned her attention from Sister Catherine to Lauren. Her pointy chin aimed at Lauren in silent accusation.

“Thank you, Ms. Campos,” the nun replied with a sigh.

Sneering, Lauren stared right back at her nemesis until Sister Catherine cleared her throat.

“I won’t start anything,” Lauren replied stiffly. She didn’t add that she would be happy to finish whatever Sylvie kicked off.

After some trepidation, Sister Catherine left them alone. As a parting gift, she warned them again that they were already in plenty of trouble. Lauren knew she was right, but wished the nun understood how maddening Sylvie was and how irritating. She was salt in a wound, dirt in the eye, sand in a bathing suit. She couldn’t be blamed for trying to yank her hair out.

Sitting across from each other in blue molded plastic chairs, Lauren and Sylvie played the most hostile game of whoever-blinks-first-loses. The longer Lauren stared, the more her muscles tensed.

Lauren tried to keep her mouth shut, but the images kept replaying over and over in her mind. Sylvie and Patty on a date. The Patty that Lauren had a crush on since junior year. A crush Sylvie overheard Lauren talking about in the locker room after softball practice. It was no coincidence that Sylvie asked Patty out the next day.

“Coldplay,” Lauren murmured, disgust forcing her attention away from Sylvie.

“What was that, Loser Lou?” Sylvie taunted her with the name no one had used since elementary school. No one but Sylvie. “If you have something to say, say it. Don’t mumble,” she challenged.

“Coldplay,” she repeated, enunciating every consonant. “You got a date with the one and only Patricia Guerra and you took her to whack-ass Coldplay.”

“What’s wrong with Coldplay? You’re just jealous that she would never go out with you,” Sylvie replied, her upper lip trembling while she tried to keep her cool.

Sylvie was too easy to rile. Lauren could get her to explode in seconds. If she got her to lunge again, she might get her expelled. What a blessing it would be to never see her stuck-up face again.

“What’s wrong with Coldplay?” Lauren repeated, sitting back and crossing one bare leg over the other. “Nothing is wrong, I guess.” She shrugged. “If you like lame lyrics and pained wailing.” She laughed.

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