Dill's Lying

The novel To Kill a Mockingbird is a first person novel told from the point of view of Scout, a young girl. One of Scout’s friends, Dill, is revealed through the course of the story to be lying about the adventures he has with his father. In truth, Dill’s father is not involved in his life, and Dill compensates by making up tall tales about his father. In my own life, my father was very much involved. I had a loving, caring, attentive dad who worked long days but always found time in the evenings to play with us. So I don’t have the excuse that Dill had, but I still told many tall tales about my dad.

I don’t know why I did it, but when I was in first grade, I lied about my dad all of the time. Our teacher would read to us each day after lunch, and at the end of the story, I’d always raise my hand eagerly. The teacher would call on me, and I’d immediately launch into a story. Maybe her story had been about a family living on a farm. If that were the case, after she called on me, I’d pause, take a deep breath, and then say something to the effect of “Once my family used to live on a farm, and we’d have to teach dogs how to herd goats, just like in the story. And my dad was a champion goat farmer!” And I’d go on with this fabulous lie, never letting on that I’d never even seen a goat in person before. And all of the other students in the class would believe the stories I told, and they’d all want to know more about my tales, and I’d gladly make up more details.

Occasionally my teacher would ask, “Now, Bryan, are you sure that really happened?” And she’d emphasize the “really,” but I’d always say that yes, it really had happened.

Finally, though, about two thirds of the way through the year, when the teacher had read us a story about an African villager who fought off a wild boar with his bare hands, I raised my hand. My teacher tried to ignore me, but when I insisted she called on me, and I said, “Once, when I was a little, little kid, my family lived in Africa, and we had a wild boar, and it tried to bite my older sister, and it ate our wild lion that we had, so my dad had to kill it.”

There was a long pause after I finished, and I could see all of the students in the classroom look at the teacher and look at one another, and finally, they all said—almost in unison—“Naaaah! No Way!”  (475 words)

And I never told another story about my father in that classroom again.