Lying Out Loud

“So you lied to me about that, too.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I did.”

She shook her head, then turned and walked up the stairs. I followed her.

“That’s it?” I asked. I was riled up now. Amy and I had never been in a fight before. Usually she just got quiet and I waited for her to come around. We’d never yelled at each other. It used to be a point of pride, actually, but now I wanted to yell. I knew I’d regret it later, but at the moment, I wanted to make her hurt as much as I did.

“Yeah,” she said, stopping in her bedroom doorway. “That’s it. I’m done, So

My instinct was to get the last word. That the person who spoke last won the fight. Logical, I know.

But her words hit me harder than anything else she’d said. As it turned out, I didn’t need to make Amy hurt now. I already had.

And before I could come up with anything to say, anything that would make me feel even momentarily victorious, Amy slammed the door in my face.

Our fight went on for another week. Cold shoulders, angry glares, slamming doors. I spent most of my time in the guest room, wallowing in my misery.

More than once, I found myself dialing Ryder’s number, wanting to hear his voice, to get his advice on what to do, to have him make me laugh. Then I’d remember that he hated me, too, and I’d be left even more crushed than I’d been a moment before.

I’d hoped Amy’s parents hadn’t picked up on the tension in the house, but of course they had.

“So

“Yes,” I said, sitting up. I’d been lying on my back, staring at the ceiling, contemplating how awful my life was. You know, productive stuff. “Come on in.”

Mr. and Mrs. Rush stepped inside, and Mr. Rush shut the door behind him. I knew by the looks on their faces that nothing good was going to come of this.

“We wanted to come in and check on you,” Mrs. Rush said, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“We know that things between you and Amy have been … off,” Mr. Rush said.

Understatement of the century.

“Yeah … Um. I’m okay.”

“That’s good,” Mrs. Rush said. “You know we love both you and Amy, and we’re sure you two will work this out eventually.”

I was glad she was, because I wasn’t so sure.

“We don’t know what’s going on between you two,” Mr. Rush said. “You’ve been very quiet on the topic. And that’s your prerogative. We just want you to know that we’re here for you both.”

I could sense the “but” coming.

“We’ve been thinking, though,” Mrs. Rush said. “This has been going on for two weeks, and … maybe the best thing for both of you is to take some time apart. To get some space from each other.”

“Oh.”

I felt the panic begi

And it was the last thing I wanted to hear.

“We’ve been happy to have you here,” Mr. Rush said. “But living together is hard. Even for best friends. So perhaps it’s time for you to go home.”

Chapter 27

They insisted on driving me.

I told them I had Gert. I told them I could go alone. I told them not to worry.

But they wouldn’t hear it.

We pulled into the driveway around noon, and even though it was surprisingly su

“You don’t have to come in,” I said, forcing myself to sound confident. “I can talk to Mom on my own.”

“Is she even here?” Mrs. Rush asked. “There’s no car in the driveway.”

“She’s … she’s probably at work,” I said. “She’ll be home soon. I have my key, so …”

“Why don’t we wait with you,” Mr. Rush said. It wasn’t a question, though. He and Mrs. Rush wasted no time unbuckling their seat belts and getting out of the car.

But I stayed, frozen in the backseat.

No.

No, it couldn’t happen like this.

“Come on, So

But that wasn’t what was scaring me.

I climbed out of the car, trying to keep my composure as panic bubbled in my stomach. I fumbled for my key, which had spent months at the bottom of my purse, unused, unwanted. I hesitated before sliding it into the lock.

“I appreciate you coming with me,” I said. “But really, you don’t have to stay. It … it’ll probably be better if I talk to her alone. I can call you after —”

“I think we should be here,” Mr. Rush said. “Based on what you told us before, your mom has a tendency to overreact. If we’re here, maybe she’ll keep a cooler head.”

“We just want to make sure everything’s okay,” Mrs. Rush said, ruffling my hair a little. “Let’s go on inside, So

My hands were shaking so hard. “You really don’t have to —”

“We know,” Mr. Rush said. “But we want to.”

With both of their eyes on me, I had no other choice but to unlock the front door and let them inside.

The living room was dark, the blinds drawn, and the stale odor of it nearly suffocated me. I shivered in my jacket. It wasn’t much warmer inside. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Mr. and Mrs. Rush glance at each other, and the panic rose up into my throat.

“My mom might be a while,” I said. “She works weird hours.”

“We can wait,” Mr. Rush said, but there was a skeptical tone to his voice. He sat down on the couch, a puff of dust rising around him. He had the grace to pretend he didn’t notice. “Come sit with me. We’ll wait together.”

“Um …” I looked over at Mrs. Rush, who seemed to be scoping out the place, her eyes investigating every corner of the living room. “You know, my mom might not be okay with coming home to find so many people in the house. You don’t know this about her, but she’s really an introvert. This might be too overwhelming and —”

“So

“No.” But my voice cracked. “No, I’m just worried my mom won’t be okay with this when she gets home. I really should just talk to her myself.”

“It’s so dark in here,” Mrs. Rush said. “Let me get the light.”

“No!”

But it was too late. She’d flipped the switch on the wall.

And nothing had happened.

“So

“No … the bulb’s just burnt out.”

“The heat’s not on either.”

“Mom likes it cold.”

“So

“It’s fine. Everything’s fine. You two need to go.”

“No one’s been here in months, have they?” Mrs. Rush asked. Her voice was so soft, so gentle, that it hurt.

I tried to laugh, but it came out maniacal and cold. “Don’t be ridiculous. Mom’s here every day. She’ll be home soon.”

Mr. Rush stood up and walked over to me, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to lie to us. Just tell us what’s going on, okay?”

And that’s when it broke, every ounce of cool I’d kept over the past few months. Maybe it was this house. Maybe it was the unwavering kindness in Mr. Rush’s voice. Maybe it was being told not to lie for the thousandth time. But it just snapped and fell away.

And there was no way to pull together the pieces now.

“Nothing’s going on!” I screamed. It left a sharp ache in my throat, and tears spilled from my eyes. “It’s fine. Just go!”

“So

“Go!” I pushed Mr. Rush’s hand off my shoulder. “Get out!”

“So

“Get out!” I screamed again, stomping my foot and clenching my fists, like a child throwing a tantrum. “Get out! Get out! Get the fuck out!”