Lying Out Loud(62)

“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 winning the fight. She was right. As much as I wanted to blame her for telling Ryder, it was all on me. I’d had the chance to tell him so many times, but I’d chickened out. And I’d kept lying to both of them. How stupid was I to think that they’d never find out the truth? That I wouldn’t end up hurting them both?

“I’m sorry,” I said.

But when I looked up, Amy was gone.

And I was completely alone.





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, Sonny. You’ve apologized a lot in the past. But I’m starting to think that words don’t mean anything to you, because you always just go and do something worse.”

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 Sonny and Amy. You mean more to me than anyone.”

“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, Sonny. That’s the problem. You never let me speak. I might be a quiet person, but that doesn’t mean you have to speak for me or speak over me.”