"You have to stop lying to him," Bonnie said.
We sat under cover of the hall outside the gym with our lunches, watching the rain pour over the parking lot outside. I was feeling somewhat attacked. Over the weekend I had begun to justify my lies, at least to myself, and reasoned that it wouldn't matter. Russell wouldn't find out anyway - it's not like my mother was going to come and get me. "If I could, I would. You know, I told him that first lie before he was anything to me."
"Why?"
"I don't know." Somehow it had been more appealing - certainly, telling Russell my mother had died was less painful than the reality: She didn't want me. But I'm not sure I knew all that at the time, and I was certainly aware of my limited ability to explain it to Russell in a way he'd understand. "It doesn't matter. He's not going to find out anyway."
"What if you forget part of your story and he remembers it?"
"I never talk about it anyway."
"What if you get hurt and something happens and they identify you? And Russell finds out that your real name isn't even Hazel?"
"God," I said. "I don't want to think about it."