Free Little White Lies by Brianna Baker Page A

to take it personally. The most important thing is for you to stay true to yourself. I’m here to help, that’s all.
    C: Thank you.
    K: Thank you, Coretta. See you in the cloud.
    C: Bye, Karl.

CHAPTER SEVEN
Coretta and Karl (December 13–18, 2013)
    Fri, Dec 13 , 2013; 12:03 a.m.
    K: you awake?
    C: yes
    K: why?
    C: writing a paper
    K: due tomorrow?
    C: of course. Just started it.
    K: on what?
    C: civil war in Syria. For my geopolitics seminar
    K: check Instagram
    C: for what?
    K: Beyoncé
    C: what?
    K: just have a look, please. Over & out.
    tumblr .
LITTLE WHITE LIES
    December 13, 2013
    Little White Lie of the Day: “Beyoncé is middle management at the Bank of Satan and recruiting teenagers for summer internships.”—The Five Most Popular Beyoncé Conspiracy Theories (mashable.com)
    THE BEYONCÉ CONSPIRACY has nothing to do with the Illuminati, a Dutch Giant, Jay Z, or baby Blue Ivy (although Jay and Blue are definitely involved).
    While you were sleeping, Beyoncé—under the cover of darkness, like a beautiful brown bootylicious Banksy—unleashed her latest creation upon the world. No press, no promo, no leaks. Just 14 new songs and 17 new videos, all part of her new “visual album” simply titled
Beyoncé
.
    While I do possess an open mind and a healthy dose of skepticism, I have not yet fallen prey to any of the leading conspiracy theories of our time. But if the most popular entertainer alive can make an entire album (including 17 videos!) without
anyone
spilling the beans, well then, for all I know, 9/11may have been an inside job after all. I’m kidding about 9/11; please don’t write me about it.
    Mom and Dad claim that my first words were “mama” and “dada”—in that order—but that’s not something I remember. However, I do recall that the first pop song I ever sang along to was “Say My Name” by Destiny’s Child. The associated image of my mother rolling her eyes and wearily shaking her head will be forever etched in my memory. She didn’t get Beyoncé then, and she still doesn’t get her now. Which may be one reason I’ve stayed so loyal to Bey. Of course I love my mother dearly; I respect her; hell, I even
like
her. But I was never the sort of kid to suffer the humiliation of being chaperoned to see my favorite singer in concert. Some things just aren’t meant to be shared with one’s parents.
    Mom, to her credit, parlayed Beyoncé into teachable moments. I learned about the wonders of hair extensions at a remarkably young age. My mother also enlisted Beyoncé to educate me about the appropriate times to wear clothes and when it was okay to just walk around in your underwear. And before I even started school, Beyoncé helped me comprehend the nuances of the word “naughty.”
    My mother never tried to steer me away from Bey, either. She accepted the Beyoncé phenomenon the same way she did boy bands, the color pink, and princesses—as an immutable force of influence on her daughter from which there was no way to shield or protect her, but which would surely diminish. (In recent years, I’ve tried to keep my continued Beyoncé worship from her. I’ve indulged alone or with my best friend, Rachel. I also recently invented the statistic that Americans between the ages of 12 and 48 are exposed to images of Beyoncé an average of 3.4 times per day.)
    The first CD I ever owned was her solo debut
Dangerouslyin Love
. Mom bought it for me. I remember, because it got released the day before my seventh birthday. Even though my official birthday was still a day away, she took me to Target after school—no doubt to shut me up about it.
    At least I’ve outgrown princesses, boy bands, and the color pink.
    But Bey is still my boo. I don’t own any of her other CDs, but I’ve purchased all her other albums on iTunes, and with my own hard-earned money. I know she doesn’t need my money. But she has given me and the rest of the world so much over the years—not just as an entertainer but as a