Lying Out Loud

by Kody Keplinger

  I nodded. “I do. I do — thank you. Thank you so much.”

  “You’re welcome,” Mr. Rush said. “And thank you for spending Christmas with us. We’re glad to have you here, Sonny.”

  I smiled at him. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

  I may not have been as filled with holiday joy as Wesley (I doubted I ever would be), but if I was going to spend Christmas with anyone, there was no other family I’d rather be with.

  Except, maybe, my own.

  * * *

  The only call I got that day wasn’t on my new cell phone: It was on the Rushes’ house phone, and it was collect.

  “Yes, I’ll accept the charges,” I said, feeling a little guilty despite their insistence that they’d be okay with paying the fees when I’d originally asked them about it.

  I had a feeling this was the first time the Rush house had received a call from a prison.

  “Sonny?”

  I hadn’t heard his voice in years, but I recognized it immediately. It was deep, but light. You could hear the smile in it. In all my memories of my father, he was always smiling.

  “Hey, Dad,” I said, my own voice a tad shaky. “Merry Christmas.”

  “You sound so grown-up,” he said. “You’re probably too old for me to call you Sonny Bunny now, huh?”

  “Maybe a little,” I said. I was surprised by how normal he sounded. How confident and pleasant. Somehow, I’d expected prison to rob him of that. He just … didn’t sound like a criminal. “It’s been a while.”

  “I know. I was so happy to get your letter.”

  “You were?”

  “Of course, Sonny Bunny. I’ve tried to call and write before, but I could never get in touch.”

  “We moved a few years ago,” I said. “Into Granddad’s house. And Mom never got a house phone. And her cell number has changed a few times, so …”

  “Your mother,” he said, a slight laugh in his voice. “She’s a piece of work.”

  “Yeah … So that’s why I gave you this number. I’m at my friend’s house right now. Her parents said I could take your calls here.”

  “Oh,” Dad said. “Well, tell them thank you for me.” He paused. “How is your mom, anyway?”

  Time to lie.

  “Great,” I said. “She’s got a good job right now and she’s seeing someone, so that’s good for her. We had a great Christmas this morning, and then I came over to my friend’s house for dinner.”

  “That’s great,” Dad said. “I miss you, Sonny Bunny.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  I didn’t know the words were true until they left my mouth. Despite everything I’d said about him over the years, despite all the anger and hurt I felt, I’d missed him. Especially now.

  “Listen,” he said. “I know you’re busy, but I’d love to see you if you ever want to come for visitation —”

  “I will.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I mean, I don’t know when, but I’ll come soon.”

  “That would be great, Sonny. You can come make fun of me in my very fashionable orange jumpsuit.” And even though his voice was still confident, I could sense that little touch of relief. No one else would have caught it, but I did.

  I had to remind myself of that. My dad might not have sounded like a criminal, but he was one. There was no disputing that. Maybe he’d changed over the years. Maybe he wasn’t the asshole my mother had once claimed. But for all his charm, he was a liar.

  Just like me.

  The question was, how much was he lying about?

  There was a chance that letting him back into my life was a mistake. But Ryder said Dad might surprise me if I gave him a chance, and he already had just by calling.

  “You still there, Sonny Bunny?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m here. But I can only talk for a few more minutes. The phone charges are kind of …”

  “I understand,” Dad said. “But, if you have a few more minutes, I’d love to learn a little more about this grown-up you.”

  I smiled. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything,” he said.

  I wouldn’t give him that. I couldn’t give anyone that. But for the next five minutes, I told him as many true things as I could.

  “Are you freaking kidding me?”

  I slammed my fist into Gert’s steering wheel and jumped at the resounding honk! it elicited. Because, despite all logic, it had somehow surprised me.

  I’d just managed to pull my piece-of-shit car onto the shoulder of the road as it groaned and creaked to a stop. But now I was stuck, stranded on the stretch of highway between Hamilton and Oak Hill on the day after Christmas.

  And I was going to be late for work.

  “Please just be the battery,” I muttered as I climbed from the car and went to open the hood. “Please just need a jump.”

  I may have had a job now, but between gas money, Christmas presents, and buying some new winter clothes, I didn’t have the money to fix Gert. I knew the Rushes would pay for it if I asked, but I still felt guilty about letting them give me a new cell phone.

  I pulled open the hood and stared down at the tangle of machinery inside, suddenly remembering that I knew absolutely nothing about cars. I wasn’t even sure why I’d popped the hood other than that was just what you were supposed to do when you were stranded on the side of the road.

  “Damn,” I said, looking down at what I thought might be the battery.

  I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my new cell phone, which only had a handful of numbers programmed into it. I tried Amy, but there was no answer. She’d gone to the library to work on an essay for her college applications, so maybe she’d put it on silent. Then I remembered that I hadn’t given Amy her phone back yet — it was still in my room. So I tried Wesley next.

  “Hello, Sonya.”

  “Not funny,” I said. “Hey, are you busy?”

  “We’re just watching a movie. Why?”

  I heard someone laughing in the background, and I realized he must’ve been at Bianca’s house.

  “Gert’s dead.”

  “Who?”

  “My car.”

  “Oh … okay. Where are you?”

  I gave him directions and he assured me they were leaving immediately. I hung up and shoved my phone back into my pocket with a sigh.

  “Damn it, Gert,” I said, resting my hand on the hood. “Get your shit together, woman.”

  I dialed the bookstore’s number, but there was no answer. I was about to try again when I heard someone call out to me.

  “Hey. You all right?”

  I looked up and noticed a Honda slowing to a stop next to me. A guy with messy brown hair stuck his head out the window. Beyond him, I could make out a pretty brunette in the passenger’s seat. Neither of them were much older than me.

  “Fine,” I said. “My car just sucks.”

  He turned the Honda onto the shoulder, just a few yards in front of my car, making room for other cars to speed past us. Then he and the brunette both climbed out and started walking toward me.

  I stiffened, thinking that this was exactly how every horror movie began and hoping that Amy would avenge my murder, regardless of the weirdness between us at the moment, but then I realized we were on a busy highway in broad daylight and any smarter serial-killing team would not be so careless.

  “Sorry,” the brunette said, noticing the uneasy look on my face. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but I couldn’t place it. “Nathan here has a Good Samaritan complex. We promise we’re not going to, like, kidnap you.”

  “That’s just what any good kidnapper would say,” I pointed out.

  The girl, who was wearing a University of Kentucky sweatshirt, snorted, and her blue eyes twinkled just a bit.

  “It’s not a Good Samaritan complex,” Nathan argued. “It’s called being a decent person. Try it sometime.”

  “I’ll pass. Thanks.”

  They s
tared at each other for a moment, both smiling, and suddenly I felt as though I was intruding on something. Worried they might start mauling each other in front of me, there on the side of the road, I cleared my throat.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I’m fine. Just a craptastic car. My friends are on the way.”

  “See. She doesn’t want our help,” the girl said. “Let’s leave her alone. I’m freezing.”

  “Does the heat work in your car?” Nathan asked me. “Do you want to wait in our car with us?”

  “Oh, I don’t —”

  “I was trying to convince her that we weren’t trying to kidnap her,” the girl said. “You’re not helping my case here.”

  Nathan laughed. “Sorry. Whitley’s right. We aren’t trying to kidnap you.”

  “Wait,” I said, looking at the brunette. And suddenly I realized why she looked so familiar. “Whitley? Whitley Johnson? You’re Greg Johnson’s daughter?”

  Whitley stiffened a little. “Yeah.”

  “Oh my God,” I said. “Okay, I swear, I’m not usually a squealing fangirl, but your father is amazing.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “He paid for my gas once.”

  Whitley met this comment with the same lack of enthusiasm I had received from Ryder. She just gave a vague, placating smile, and I realized what an idiot I sounded like.

  Nonetheless, I was suddenly way more willing to wait in their car until Bianca and Wesley arrived.

  The three of us climbed into the Honda, me sliding into the backseat, and Nathan cranked up the heat. I listened with curiosity as he and Whitley talked about other things — school, plans for the weekend, some awkward family Christmas drama — only then remembering that these two were not only a couple but stepsiblings.

  That had really gotten the rumor mill stirred up a few years ago, shortly after Greg Johnson moved to Hamilton. His daughter, Whitley, already had a reputation for being a party animal, but the gossip only got worse when she started dating her stepmother’s son. Talk around town had mostly faded after the two went off to college, but sometimes flared up again when Whitley and Nathan were back for school breaks.

  This was my first time meeting either of them in person, and I was fascinated by how a relationship like that would work.

  I also wondered if my love life was more or less screwed up than theirs.

  Probably more.

  “Are those your friends?” Nathan asked as a Porsche eased onto the side of the road, right behind Gert.

  “Yeah,” I said, though I was mildly disappointed to be ejected from this riveting couple’s presence.

  I hopped out of the Honda and saw Wesley and Bianca approaching. Whitley and Nathan spotted them, too, and to my surprise, they also climbed out of the car.

  “Hey,” Nathan said, beaming.

  “Hey.” Wesley grinned. “Long time no see.”

  “You guys know each other?” I asked.

  “Sort of,” Bianca said. She and Whitley gave each other a polite nod.

  “Whitley here stole my best friend,” Wesley explained. “How is Harrison, anyway? I haven’t heard from him in ages.”

  “That’s because he has a new boyfriend,” Whitley said. “He’s spending Christmas in Los Angeles with Antonio. I’d be mad at him for it, but they’re disgustingly cute together.”

  “Good for him,” Wesley said. “Bianca and I were talking about going out to visit him if he doesn’t come home this summer.”

  They kept talking until Bianca noticed me standing there shivering and cleared her throat.

  “Well, we just came to pick up the stray.” She jabbed a thumb at me. “Thanks for keeping an eye on her.”

  “I’m not a puppy,” I said.

  “We discussed kidnapping her,” Whitley said. “Just so you know.”

  “Glad you didn’t,” Wesley said. “Then I’d have to find my sister a new best friend, and those can take forever to housebreak.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ha-ha.”

  Whitley and Nathan said good-bye and climbed into their car, then Wesley, Bianca, and I headed back over to Gert.

  “So what’s the problem?” Bianca asked, tapping the hood.

  “I don’t know,” I admitted. “It stopped running. I’m hoping it’s just the battery. Do you guys have jumper cables?”

  Wesley opened his mouth to answer, but Bianca just popped open the hood. “Let me take a look first. I have plenty of experience with crappy old cars.”

  “Be my guest.”

  She poked her head around inside while Wesley and I watched. After a second, she took a step back and slammed the hood shut.

  “We’ll need to call a tow truck.”

  I groaned. “What’s wrong with Gert?”

  “Your alternator. The belt is totally just hanging there. It’ll need to be replaced.”

  “The alternator,” Wesley said, nodding. “I mean, obviously.”

  Bianca rolled her eyes. “For someone with such a nice car, you know so little about them.”

  “How much is that going to cost me?” I asked.

  “Hard to say,” Bianca admitted. “If it’s just the belt, it won’t be that bad. If it’s the actual alternator … a little more.”

  “More that I don’t have,” I muttered. “And I don’t get paid until next week.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Wesley said. “I’ll take care of it.”

  “I can’t let you do that,” I said. “Or your parents. You guys have already done way too much for me.”

  “Don’t be silly,” he said. “We don’t mind.”

  “But I do,” I argued.

  Bianca put an understanding hand on my shoulder. “Maybe you could consider it a loan, then,” she said. “To be paid back when you can.”

  I still wasn’t thrilled about this, but it wasn’t as if there were a ton of options. So, reluctantly, I nodded.

  “Deal,” Wesley said. “I’ll even charge interest if you like.”

  “Let’s negotiate that in the car. Where it’s warm,” Bianca suggested.

  It took about twenty minutes for the tow truck to arrive, and by then, I was super late for work. Poor Gert and her broken alternator were hauled off, and I silently promised her I’d come to rescue her soon.

  “So where were you headed?” Wesley asked as he steered the Porsche back onto the highway.

  “The mall,” I said, checking the time. “My shift started half an hour ago. My boss will be so pissed. And now I have no way to get home after …”

  “We can come pick you up,” Bianca said.

  “You don’t have to do that,” I said.

  “Of course we do,” Wesley said. “You don’t think we’d leave you stranded, do you? Just give me a call when your shift ends.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Really.”

  Wesley smiled at me in the rearview mirror. “Anytime.”

  Well, this was some serious déjà vu.

  “Sheila, come on,” I begged. “I told you. My car broke down. I had to wait for the tow truck.”

  “You could have called,” she said.

  “I tried,” I said. “No one answered.”

  “Why didn’t you try again?”

  Fair question.

  “We had to call someone else to cover your shift,” she said. “The day after Christmas is always busy, and you weren’t here.”

  “I told you. My car —”

  “You always have an excuse,” she said.

  To be fair, the excuses about Gert had been true. I’d had more problems with her lately than usual. I seriously needed a new car. But that required money. Which required a job. Which Gert was making it incredibly hard to hold on to.

  Well, Gert, and my hatred of the holidays.

  “Look,” Sheila said as she rearranged a few picture books that had been tossed around by some kids a few minutes before. I was following her around the store like a pathetic, lost dog. “You were seasonal anyway. We were probably going to be laying you off in
two weeks as it is.”

  But that was two weeks’ worth of pay that I needed. Especially now that I owed Wesley for Gert’s repairs.

  I just stood there, staring at her.

  “Sorry, Sonny,” she said. “But you’re fired.”

  I stormed out of the bookstore, pissed at Sheila and at Gert and at myself. I thought of calling Wesley, asking him to turn back around and come pick me up. But I took a deep breath and decided to be more proactive.

  I was already at the mall, so I might as well start my job hunt right away.

  I sighed as I headed toward the food court, remembering the day Amy and I had come here when I was first applying for new jobs.

  Some days I felt like a rat on a wheel, running and running and running and never getting anywhere.

  * * *

  “Sonny?”

  I was walking out of Daphne’s, a vintage-inspired clothing store, after dropping off my application. Ryder was standing a few yards away, a shopping bag in his hand and his green utility jacket slung casually over his shoulder. He looked like a model. Like a picture any one of these stores would have loved to have advertising their brand.

  “Hey, Ryder,” I said.

  “What’re you doing here?”

  We said it in unison, then laughed together.

  “If I was seven, I would yell jinx right now.”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Such a shame we’re too old for — JINX! You owe me a soda.”

  Ryder rolled his eyes. “Seriously?”

  “Of course. I take these things very seriously. I prefer orange soda, by the way. Though I will also accept grape. No root beer, though. Disgusting.”

  “Noted.” He glanced down at the stack of applications still tucked beneath my arm. “So, back to my question. What are you doing here?”

  “Seeking employment.”

  “I thought you worked at the bookstore?”

  “No longer.”

  “Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

  “What about you? What brings you to the mall on this fine winter’s day?”

  “Something just as fun.” He lifted up the shopping bags. “Returning unwanted gifts.”

  “Unwanted gifts? That’s an oxymoron, Ryder.”

  “You’ve never been honored with a present from my grandmother, then.”