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The car was quiet as Felicity pulled away from the elementary school parking lot. Her 8-year-old daughter, who was usually extremely chatty, was silently staring out the window.
“How was school?” Felicity asked.
Harper shrugged. “Good.”
“What did you learn?”
“I don’t know,” her voice was quiet and she sounded like she was thinking about something.
“What’s the matter, honey?”
“Nothing,” Harper said.
“Doesn’t sound like nothing.”
“Boys are stupid.”
“You have no idea,” Felicity said under her breath. Then she spoke up and asked, “What happened?”
Harper leaned forward in her seat.
“Okay, so me and Ava were sitting at lunch. And you know how Ms. Hart makes us sit boy girl boy girl?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, Ava was sitting across from me and Liam was sitting right next to her and Carter was sitting right next to me.”
Felicity tried to reference the “murder board” she kept in her head with names and faces of the kids her daughter talked about the most.
Ava was Harper’s best friend and had been since last year. She was constantly over at their house. Felicity and Oliver had actually become good friends with her parents.
She was pretty sure Harper had a crush on Carter. It wasn’t clear whether or not he liked her back. Friend or crush, he seemed like a good kid.
Liam was the class bully, yet somehow he and Carter were best friends. It didn’t make sense.
“Then Ava started talking about Christmas and stuff. And stupid Liam said that I couldn’t celebrate Christmas because I celebrate Hanukkah.”
Before marrying Oliver, Felicity generally hadn’t celebrated Christmas, but they decided to raise their family celebrating both.
“And what did you say?”
“I said Santa still comes to our house.”
Felicity nodded, proud of her little girl for not putting up with this snot-nosed brat’s bull crap.
“Then Liam was like ‘Santa isn’t real’. But Ava didn’t know that and then she got really sad.”
Harper had found out about Santa last year when she’d found the pile of old letters she’d written that her parents had promised to send to the North Pole. The final nail in the coffin was when she’d found the stationary they had always used to write letters back to her from Santa.
Harper had been confused and upset, and Felicity was sad to see her daughter growing up so fast, but Oliver was devastated. Christmas was his favorite holiday, and something about spoiling his little girl under the disguise of a beloved cultural icon checked a similar box as his work as the Green Arrow.
“What did you tell Ava?” Felicity asked.
“I lied,” Harper said, sounding a little conflicted, “I said that Santa was real and that Liam was wrong and that she shouldn’t listen to him.”
Felicity nodded but didn’t say anything. As much as she hated it, lying for the greater good was an essential skill for their family. Santa was a good practice for when she’d eventually find out about Oliver’s vigilante career.
“You’re a good friend,” she said, “but Santa’s the only thing you’re allowed to lie about, okay?”
For now, Felicity finished the thought in her head.
Harper nodded and said, “I know.”
There were a few moments of quiet before Harper asked, “Is keeping a secret the same as lying?”
Felicity took a deep breath as she chose her words very carefully. “What do you mean?”
“Like if Ava has a crush on someone, but I like him too, but I don’t tell her because I don’t want to hurt her feelings, is that lying?”
“Is this someone Carter?”
“Yeah.”
“Has she asked you if you like him?”
“No,” she said, “but she asks me if I like anyone and I say I do, but I can’t tell her who it is.”
Felicity felt her heart simultaneously warm and break. Already, she was developing the same martyr complex as Oliver. It must have been genetic.
“How long has this been going on?”
Harper shrugged, “A while.”
“It’s not lying if what you say is still true,” Felicity said, “You were being honest when you said you liked someone. Then, you were being honest when you said you didn’t want to tell her who it is.”
“But I can never ever ever tell her,” Harper said, “and I don’t like keeping secrets from her.”
“What do you think would happen if you told her?”
“I don’t know. Maybe she wouldn’t want to be friends anymore.”
“You know what I think?” she asked, pulling off the road and parking the car so she could look her daughter in the eyes.
“What?”
“I think there’s a way for you guys to talk about it and still be friends.”
“But what if they wanna be boyfriend and girlfriend?”
You’re eight years old, Felicity thought, you shouldn’t be in relationships anyway.
Instead, she asked, “Do you know what girl code is?”
Harper shook her head.
“It’s a promise you make with your friends,” Felicity said, “that you’ll always be there for each other no matter what. Believe it or not, there are going to be dozens of Carters throughout your lifetimes, but you and Ava are going to be friends forever. That’s more important than some boy.”
“But what if she doesn’t want to do the girl code?”
“But what if she does?” Felicity asked. “Maybe if you told her how you felt, she’d understand and you can both talk about him. But it’s not fair to you if she doesn’t know. Give her the chance to be nice to you too, okay?”
“Okay,” Harper said, still hesitant but willing to try.
“That’s my girl,” Felicity smiled then said, “You’ve had a full day. You know what that calls for?”
“Ice cream?”
“Ice cream!” Felicity nodded and laughed as she shifted the car back into drive and merged back into traffic, “but don’t tell dad. He’ll be sad we’ve spoiled dinner.”
“Is that a good secret or a bad one?”
“What do you think?”
“Probably bad.”
“You’re right,” Felicity said, “Maybe he’ll cut us some slack if we bring him home some cookies and cream.”
"Maybe," Harper giggled as they headed down the road.