Lying Out Loud(74)

“You write letters?”

“I wrote a couple in the past. You’re right. They are more personal.” He stared off for a minute, something wistful in his smile. Then he shook his head and focused on me again. “So everything’s going all right with you and your dad?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to have him back in my life. Even if it has to be like this. And hopefully he’ll be out in a few months and … we can go from there.”

“What about your mom? Have you heard from her?”

I shook my head, and Wesley knew better than to push. Talking about Mom was still too hard. Half the time I was angry at her for leaving me, bitter and almost glad I didn’t have to live with her anymore. The other half, I was heartbroken, rejected. She was my mom, and I had no clue where she was or why she couldn’t just stay home, stay with me. Sometimes I blamed myself. Sometimes I woke up, panicked from a nightmare, sure she was hurt or dead. Maybe she was. I had no way of knowing.

But I wasn’t alone. I had the Rushes, people who knew me, who had seen every ugly part of me, and who loved me anyway. Maybe it wasn’t blood, but it was family nonetheless.

And even though it scared me to hope too much, it was starting to look like I might have my dad, too.

“So,” Wesley said after swallowing another bite of cereal. “You’ve got to catch me up. What’s been going on with you and Amy since January?”

I raised an eyebrow. “We talk to you on the phone every week.”

“Yes, but neither of you tell me anything interesting,” he said, pointing an accusatory spoon at me. “And while I’m sure your grades and your new job are fascinating, I wouldn’t mind something juicier.”

I laughed. “What did you have in mind?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged and chewed another bite. “What happened with that guy you were telling me about?”

I didn’t need a mirror to know the color had just drained from my face. Leave it to Wesley to leave one uncomfortable subject only to land on another.

“Nothing,” I mumbled, picking up my pen again and hoping he’d take the hint.

He didn’t.

“That’s obviously a lie,” he said. “I thought you were taking a vow of honesty?”

I groaned. “It’s … not exactly a lie. Nothing is happening with us now.”

“Why not?”

I put the pen back down with great reluctance. “Fine, but you’re only getting the short version.” I took a deep breath, all too aware of the heavy ache in my chest. It made itself known every time I so much as thought of Ryder. “It turns out he did like me, but I ruined it. I messed things up too much, and there’s no way Ryder is going to forgive me now.”


Wesley watched me for a minute, looking like he was trying to come up with something to say. Before he could, though, there was a buzzing noise and my phone, sitting on his side of the table, began to play “Konstantine” by Something Corporate. What can I say? I’d been feeling rather emo lately.

Wesley glanced down at the screen and grinned. “You never know,” he said, sliding the phone across the table to me. “He might surprise you.”

I looked down at the display, and I almost didn’t believe the words.

Ryder Cross was calling me.

“You’d better get that,” Wesley said, still grinning. He stood up and left me alone in the dining room as, with shaking hands, I clicked the button to answer.

“H-Hello?” I choked out.

“Hey, Sonny.” It was his voice. It was soft and nervous, but it was his voice.

The weight in my chest eased a little. I didn’t know what he was going to say. He might still be mad, but if he was calling me, it was because he wanted to talk. And I had been so scared I’d never talk to him again. It felt like I’d finally gasped for air after holding my breath for too long.

“Sonny?” he said again when I didn’t answer. “This … this is Sonny, right?”

“Yeah,” I said. My voice cracked and I cleared my throat. “Yeah. It’s really me this time.”





It would be a lie to say I did this on my own. The truth is, there have been several amazing people helping to shepherd this book into existence, and I want to take a moment to thank them.

Thank you to my editor, Jody Corbett, who put so much time and energy into making this story the best it could be. Thank you to my agent, Joanna Volpe, who had faith in this story even when it was just a half-formed idea mentioned over coffee. And to the whole New Leaf Literary and Scholastic teams — there are no words for how happy and honored I am to work with all of you.

Special thanks to Phoebe North, who loved this story even when I didn’t. To Amy Lukavics, who constantly makes me feel like a rock star. And to Lisa Desrochers, who made me laugh even when I was feeling pretty down. I’m so proud to know all three of you talented, smart, amazing women.

Thanks to everyone in my family for believing in me while also keeping me grounded. And special thanks to Mom, who is always there when I need her, and Dad, who never lets me doubt how proud he is. I’m lucky to have you all.

And since this is a book largely about friendship, I would be remiss not to thank my own best friends. Shana Hancock, it’s hard to believe it’s been almost nine years since that day we met in history class. We may be several states apart, but I adore you just as much now as I did then. Gaelyn Galbreath, you’re the Ann to my Leslie, my soupsnake, and I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Thank you both for always being there for me. I love you so much.