You're No Good At Lying

Looking around the tour grounds, a sense of wonder and amazement filled Spencer’s eyes. There were so many people to meet, so many things to see, that Spencer could hardly believe it when Mason, who was the manager for the band Morgan was working for, allowed her to go on tour with them. Of course, there were some rules, though.

“Do you have any talents?” Mason questioned, his arms crossed over his chest. He was a thin, yet strangely tall man who literally looked down on Spencer when he spoke to her.

“Talents?” She repeated, wondering if she should mention that she was a fairly good juggler.

“Yeah, like are you good at anything? Anything that’d help us out on tour?” He pressed, and Spencer glanced over towards Morgan for assistance.

“She’s good with money, Mason. Let her sell shirts.” Morgan interjected, and Spencer blinked a couple of times.

“Fine,” Mason sighed, glancing around anxiously as if he were late for something rather important. “But you listen here, O’leary,” his finger was pointed directly at Morgan’s chest, and Spencer took a small step back, “if either of you do anything wrong, you’re both out.”

Morgan swallowed and nodded, taking a step to the side so Mason could pass through the two of them. Spencer added cheerily, “he seems like a nice guy.” Morgan rolled his eyes as the two of them grabbed their belongings and began making their way to the bus. Morgan stayed silent for the beginning of the walk, occasionally grunting out an answer to whatever question Spencer would ask. “Who’s on that bus?” She asked, genuinely curious, though Morgan was in no mood to deal with his sister’s mind games or constant mood swings. He was far too worried about what would happen when she screwed everything up for him, and when he was out of a summer job.

“The Maine,” he responded quickly.

“And on that one?” She asked, pointing to the one to the left of it.

“This Providence.”

“What about that one?”

“Versa Emerge.”

“And what about that one, Morgan?” Spencer asked, taking his arm and pointing to the largest tour bus of them all (though in her opinion, they were all rather big and daunting).

“That’s All Time Low’s bus.”

“Why’s it so much bigger than all of the other buses?” Spencer asked, taking in the bus that seemed so much to stick out from all of the others. Morgan groaned in frustration, rubbing his eyes with the palms of his hand.

“Because they’re headlining the tour, okay Spencer? They can afford it.” She paused where she was walking suddenly, letting her duffle bag rest on the dirty ground. Morgan stopped walking as well, regaining his composure slowly. “Look, why don’t you let me take your bag to the bus and you can look around? We’re staying on the blue and green bus – you can’t miss it.” Spencer stared at him blankly for what felt like an eternity, in Morgan’s mind. He had never grown accustomed to the way his sister looked at people like that – as if she was reading their innermost thoughts.

“Fine,” Spencer finally said, the smile returning to her face as if it had never left. “I’ll go look around. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

“P – perfect,” he managed to stutter, before she handed him her bag and they separated. Walking back towards the beginning of the parking lot, Spencer took in her surroundings in more detail than she had ever bothered to do before. There were guys playing football without shirts on, and girls watching them and giggling from the sidelines. Her dark brown hair was tied back in a ponytail and her amber eyes were alert, rapidly moving from one thing to another.

“Hey! Watch out!” Someone called, causing Spencer to avert her eyes to where the noise came from, but not fast enough. Before she could even make sense of what was happening, an object came crashing against her face. She almost didn’t feel the pain at first, and not until she glanced down at the ground did she realize that a football had hit her in the nose. Reaching up slowly, Spencer was greeted with the cold touch of liquid, and when she removed her fingers she saw crimson blood coating the tips of her fingers.

“Fuck,” Spencer mumbled, reaching up and finding that more blood was coming out of her nose, slowly but surely. She could taste it on her lips, and with every passing millisecond her nose throbbed just a little bit harder.

“Oh, shit!” Exclaimed one of the guys playing football, and Spencer figured that he was the one who had thrown the ball in the first place. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Spencer mumbled, feeling the blood run a little bit farther past her lips. “I’m alright. Do you have a tissue or something?” By now the entire crowd of guys playing football had gathered around Spencer, not to mention some of the girls who had been watching from the other side of the open field.

“Uh, yeah, wait…” His voice trailed off at the end, as he turned around looking for something. Spencer could almost see the red blood staining her skin when she forced her eyes look towards her nose. “Kara? Do you have tissues?”

“Not on, me, no.” The girl said, pushing her way through the slowly disintegrating crowd of people. “But I have stuff back on the bus.” Spencer’s eyes shifted between the boy and the girl all while trying to keep her head up straight, even though her nose was now no longer throbbing but smashing against her face.

“Is your bus closer than ours?” The boy asked, turning his attention to Spencer.

“I don’t know where my bus is. I haven’t gone there yet.” She responded calmly, a clear surprise to the two people talking with her, even as blood continued to stream down her face.

“Well I guess we’re going to our bus then.” He replied, eyeing her carefully, though Spencer’s face remained calm even in suspicion.