Lying Out Loud

Amy’s eyes flashed, and I saw the fury there that I’d only seen once before, and I shrank away from her, flinching as if she’d struck me.

“Fine,” she said, voice still low. “If you won’t tell him, I will.” She turned to face Ryder. “I never talked to you online, Ryder. I never instant messaged or texted you or any of that. It was all So

Ryder took a stumbling step backward. Like he’d just been shoved. “What? So

“I … um …” I swallowed. “Sort of.”

Horror bloomed across his face and suddenly there was so much hurt in his eyes. “You were catfishing me?” he asked. I felt myself shrink away from him as the shame swelled inside of me. “Was it some sort of joke? Were you screwing with me?”

“No!” I cried. “Of course not.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded. “How could you let me think … Jesus Christ. This is so fucked up.”

“Ryder, please, just let me explain.”

“Explain what? That you pretended to be someone else? And lied to me? We’ve been dating for over a month and … were you just not going to tell me?”

“I …” I hoped I wouldn’t have to. I cleared my throat. “Ryder, just give me a second.”

He shook his head. “No. I should go.”

“I’m sorry,” Amy said. “She told me you knew.”

“Well, then, looks like she lied to both of us.”

“Ryder.”

The disgust when he looked at me shattered any composure I might have had. I felt my lip begin to tremble. I’d had everything I wanted, and in a matter of seconds, it had all come tumbling down.

“I’m going to lunch,” he said. He turned and began to walk away.

“Ryder!” I called out again. “Please. Just … listen.”

But he didn’t stop walking.

I spun to face Amy, anger and guilt and heartbreak at war inside me. “How could you do that to me?” I demanded, my hands balled into fists.

She leveled a steady, dark gaze at me. Then she shook her head. “How could you do that to me?” she asked.

I looked down at my feet, shame wi

“I’m sorry,” I said.

But when I looked up, Amy was gone.

And I was completely alone.

Chapter 26

Lonely was not a new feeling for me.

In fact, it was a feeling I knew better than most.

But normally, when I was feeling alone or abandoned, I knew I could go to Amy. I knew she’d be there for me. And recently I’d had Ryder, too.

But not anymore.

It had been a week since the Valentine’s Day Massacre, and neither of them had spoken a word to me since.

I had tried to apologize to Ryder every day since the incident in the hall, but he wouldn’t even look at me. I’d called, I’d texted, I’d e-mailed, and I’d gotten no response. In class, he wore his giant headphones, freezing me out until Mr. Buckley started teaching. So, one day, I tried a different tactic. One that had worked in the past.

I wrote a note.

Please. Give me a chance to explain. I know I screwed up, but it wasn’t all a lie. Hear me out, okay? — S

I tossed it over Ryder’s shoulder and held my breath as he read it, hoping he’d write something back. Instead, he put the note away and raised his hand.

“Yes, Mr. Cross?” Mr. Buckley said, already sounding exasperated.

“May I switch seats?”

I felt myself deflate.

“Why would you want to switch seats?” Mr. Buckley asked.

I thought he would out me. Play the tattletale and let Mr. Buckley know I was passing notes. It wasn’t as if I didn’t deserve it. But Ryder had more integrity than that. Which was one of the reasons I’d fallen for him, I guess.

“I’m having trouble seeing the board,” Ryder said. “Could I sit closer?”

I felt like I’d just been kicked in the chest. I sank back into my seat, trying not to let my feelings show.

Mr. Buckley sighed. “Sure. Come on up. And maybe think about getting some real lenses for those glasses of yours.”

He hadn’t sat near me since.

Amy couldn’t avoid me quite as easily, but damn if she didn’t try.

We may have lived under the same roof, but Amy did her best to never be in the same room as me. When I walked downstairs, she went back up them. When I came into the kitchen, she moved to the living room. When I entered the rec room, she ran out.

“You’ve got to talk to me eventually,” I said one Saturday as she brushed past me, heading out of the kitchen. I’d had enough of the silent treatment.

When Amy didn’t look back, I followed her.

“Come on, Amy,” I said. “I know you’re pissed, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have lied. How many times do I have to apologize?”

She stopped at the foot of the stairs and turned to face me. That same dark glint I’d seen the day she outed me to Ryder was there. That rare spark of anger.

“How many times?” Amy asked. “I don’t know, So

She wasn’t wrong. I’d apologized for making her flirt with that guy on Black Friday. I’d apologized for the texts to Ryder. I’d apologized for how long my plan had taken before swearing I’d be honest. But I’d just kept going, making it worse and worse.

“I’m sorry,” I said again, because I had no clue what else I could say. “I mean it. I just got so caught up in everything with Ryder and me…. Amy, we have to work this out. We’re best friends. We’re So

“Do I?”

“Of course,” I said.

“Then why do you do this?” she demanded. It was the first time she’d ever raised her voice to me, that calm coolness totally gone. “If I’m so important to you, how can you keep walking all over me?”

“I —”

She shook her head. “Let me talk now. You always do the talking, So

“I speak for you because you don’t speak up!” I argued. “That’s what I do. I defend you. I protect you.”

“I never asked you to,” she said. “And that’s definitely not what you’ve been doing lately. None of this had anything to do with helping me. It was to help you. Because when I did speak up, when I told you how I felt in Te

“Amy —”

“I’m going to talk over you this time!” she shouted. It was so startling, so un-Amy-like, that I took a step back. “You are so selfish,” she continued. “You say that I’m your best friend, but you used me. You pretended to be me. I can’t understand that.”

“Because everything’s easy for you!” I yelled back. “Amy Rush: beautiful, rich, sweet. A good family. A good future ahead of you. Everything just falls into your fucking lap!”

“That’s not true.”

“Oh, right,” I said. “You’re shy. What a freaking challenge. How hard that must be,” I scoffed. “You don’t even realize how good you have it. Or how hard it is for the rest of us. Guess what, Amy? We’re not going to be roommates in college. Because I never applied anywhere.”

Amy blinked, startled. “What?”

“I’m not going to college,” I said. “If you stopped and thought about it for two seconds, you’d know there’s no way I’m going to Dartmouth or Brown or whatever. I don’t have money. Your parents are paying for my gas right now! I don’t even have a family to sign the damn financial aid forms. You’re going to college, and I have no fucking clue what I’m doing after you leave.”