Текст книги "Lying Out Loud"

Автор книги: Kody Keplinger

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Текущая страница: 14 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

Chapter 30

Meet me in the art room at lunch.

I frowned down at the message from Amy. It wasn’t like her to text during school hours. Why, that was breaking the rules. Something Amy never did … unless I made her.

Nonetheless, I made my way toward the art room instead of the cafeteria. I figured Amy wanted to show me something she’d been working on – I knew her art class had been in the middle of some big project. And I was eager to tell her my good news. I’d gotten an e-mail from Daphne’s that morning, letting me know that they’d like to hire me. Apparently, I had wowed them in my interview, and they wanted me to start immediately.

Hopefully I could hold on to this job for a while. I was tired of being poor.

But when I walked into the art room, Amy wasn’t the only one waiting for me.

“Ryder,” I said, startled. My stomach was already twisting itself into knots. “What are you doing in here?”

“He got the same text you did,” Amy explained. “I figured that was a good way to communicate with you two. Considering the recent past.”

Minor ouch there.

“But why?” I asked.

“I’m going,” Ryder said, moving to the door. My heart sank. But Amy – to my surprise – blocked him.

“You’re not,” she said. “You’re staying in here until you two talk.”

I blinked at her. “You’re … trapping us in a classroom?”

“It was the only way I could think of to get you two in the same room,” she said. Her boldness was completely unexpected. She was really taking this whole Fierce Amy thing seriously. “No one will be in this room until after lunch, so you have half an hour. And you have a lot of talking to do. So I’ll be outside.” She turned and stepped into the hallway, her hand on the knob. “And don’t even try to come out,” she added. “I won’t let you.”

I was still staring, my jaw on the ground, as she closed the classroom door.

“Seems like you’re not the only manipulative one in this friendship,” Ryder muttered as he slid into a seat.

Okay. Major ouch.

“She’s trying to help,” I said.

He shrugged, his gaze deliberately pointed away from me.

“We should talk,” I said. “She’s right about that. Even if her methods are a little … extreme.”

“I have nothing to say, Sonny.”

I felt helpless but pressed on. “That’s fine, because I have plenty to say.” I walked across the room and sat down at the desk across from his. He didn’t have to look at me, he just needed to listen. “I know you hate me, Ryder. And you have every reason to. But I made a promise to Amy – and to myself – that I’d be honest from now on. And that means telling you the truth, too.”

I took a deep breath and clasped my hands in my lap, clutching my fingers so hard that it hurt.

“So I guess I’ll start at the beginning. Um … It wasn’t … I never meant for any of this to happen. That first night, when you IMed me – well, IMed Amy – I didn’t realize I was on her account. We’d sent you that mean e-mail, and we both felt bad about it. So when I got that message, I thought it was for me. That’s why I responded. And then we talked all night, and I didn’t know that you thought I was Amy until you logged off. I was going to tell you immediately, but you wouldn’t let me. I tried, and you just cut me off —”

“So you’re blaming this on me?” Ryder asked, finally looking at me.

“No,” I said quickly. “No, I’m not. Because what happened after that is still my fault.”

I went through the whole story, every last detail. From the instant message conversations to the stupid, convoluted plan I’d dragged Amy into, to the texts and the kissing. I spilled my guts and laid them out on the table like an art project. And all the while, Ryder stayed painfully silent.

“So that’s it. That’s how all of this happened,” I said. “And I know it’s screwed up and I know I did a lot of bad things, but … you should know the truth.”

“Fine,” he said. “Now I know.”

There was a long pause.

“Is that all you’re going to say?” I asked.

“What else do you want me to say, Sonny?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “Something. Anything. I mean, this can’t just be it. A couple of weeks ago, you thought we had a future together. You said I was incredible.”

“You weren’t who I thought you were,” he said.

“But I was!”

I was on my feet, but I didn’t remember standing up. Somehow I’d begun pacing back and forth between the desks, my hands twisting in my hair. I spun to face him, feeling desperate, determined to make him understand.

“I was exactly the girl you thought I was, Ryder. I was more honest with you than I ever have been with anyone. Even in the texts and the IMs, I was telling you more about myself than anyone knew. You just didn’t know it was me. But everything I told you, about my mom … Ryder, you’re the reason I called my dad. The reason we might have a relationship now. I’ve never even opened up to Amy about that. Maybe none of that means anything to you, but it matters to me.”

“So you want me to forgive you?” he demanded. And then he was on his feet, too. “You want me to just forget all of this happened?”

“I never said that.”

“Amy might be able to get over everything you did, but I’m not that forgiving.”

“Oh, believe me, I know.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

I threw my hands in the air. “You know what? I’m being honest here, so I might as well be honest about this, too. I’m not the only one with problems.”

“I have problems?”

“Have you called your dad yet, Ryder?”

“How does that have anything to do with —?”

“It has everything to do with it,” I said. “When I first met you, you worshipped the ground he walked on. You hated your mom for dragging you away from him. But the minute you found out he wasn’t perfect, you flipped. You thought your mom was a saint and your dad was the worst human who ever lived.”

“My parents have nothing to do with this,” he said.

“You put people on pedestals, Ryder. You tell yourself that they’re perfect. You ignore all of their flaws, until one day they disappoint you just a little too much, and then you’re done. You cut them out and think they’re worthless.”

Ryder and I were so close, staring each other down. My heart was beating so fast, and my breath was a little ragged.

“Your dad screwed up,” I said, my voice lowered. “What he did was awful. But he’s your dad and he wants to be a part of your life. You’re lucky. And your mom —”

“Stop, Sonny.”

“She’s not perfect either,” I insisted. “Maybe she’s not as selfish as you thought she was when you first moved here, but she made some mistakes, too. She’s cold and judgmental. And it’s okay to see that. You can love people and still realize they’re screwed up.”

Ryder was silent again, and stiff as a board.

I swallowed, knowing I’d crossed a few lines. I hadn’t meant to say any of this. I’d been holding it back, knowing it wasn’t my place to get involved with his family. But it wasn’t just his family anymore. Now, I was the one who’d fallen off that pedestal.

“You did it with Amy, too, you know. You acted like she was some sort of goddess, even when she was rude to you. You ignored it. You were in total denial. Until one day you realized you liked me more and … and then you acted like she was the worst person imaginable.” I shook my head. “And now me. The same thing.”

I looked down at my feet. Staring up at him was too much. Those green eyes were killing me, especially when I couldn’t read them at all. A voice in my head was screaming at me to stop. To shut the hell up. But I couldn’t put the brakes on now. I’d come too far.

“You act like people are either perfect or terrible,” I said. “Like there’s nothing in between. But there is. You might think I’m terrible right now – maybe I am. But there were things about me you liked. Things about me that …” I forced myself to look back up. “Things about me that you thought were incredible. Those things don’t go away just because I messed up.”

We stood there, staring at each other, our bodies less than a foot apart, for a long, long time. My hands were shaking, and I balled them into fists at my sides. This was the longest, most painful silence of my life.

Finally, quietly, he asked, “Are you done?”

“No,” I murmured. “I have one more honest thing to tell you.” I took a deep breath.

The classroom door opened and Amy stuck her head inside. “Sorry to interrupt,” she said. “But lunch is almost over, so …”

The bell rang, right on cue.

We followed Amy out into the hallway, just as a huge crowd of students stampeded toward us. I turned to Ryder, hoping to finish what I’d been about to say, but he was swallowed up by the crowd.

I had the sudden urge to cry, and I forced it away. For a brief, foolish second, I’d thought I might be able to win him back. But instead, I’d lost him again.

Amy grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a little alcove, out of the path of our recently fed peers.

“How’d it go?” she asked.

“Could’ve gone better,” I said.

“What did he say?”

“Not much of anything.” I sighed and shook my head. “I didn’t even finish everything I wanted to say.”

“Well, then we’ve got to make him listen to you. Let you finish.”

“How?” I asked. “It’s not like you can lock us in a room again. I don’t think he’ll fall for that twice.”

“You’re probably right, but there’s got to be some way.”

“I don’t know what it would be … unless …” I paused, an idea dawning on me.

“Uh-oh,” Amy said. “That’s your scheming face. Now I’m scared.”

“Don’t worry,” I said. “You don’t have to be part of it this time. It doesn’t even involve any lies. All I need is … Remember that boom box Wesley had when we were little? He wouldn’t still happen to have that, would he?”

Chapter 31

I may not have been an overly romantic person, but I did have a soft spot for romantic comedies. Which meant I also had a soft spot for the cliché of the Grand Gesture. And I was hoping Ryder Cross did, too.

The problem with grand gestures, however, is that they can be really embarrassing for the gesturer. But then, maybe that’s the real gesture: showing that you’re willing to make a fool of yourself for another person.

These were the things I found myself musing over as I stood on Ryder’s front lawn on a Friday afternoon, my hands trembling as I held a (surprisingly heavy) boom box over my head. It was blasting “Of Lions and Robots,” the Goats Vote for Melons love song that I’d begun to associate with Ryder.

If his mother was worried about what the neighbors would think of my car, this was giving her a heart attack. I could see her face in the living room window, staring out at me with intense disapproval.

I tried to ignore that and focus only on Ryder’s bedroom window, which – since he lived in a one-story house – was only a few feet away from my face.

I knew he was inside. I’d seen the curtains shift, so now I stood there, holding my breath, anxious and a little terrified as I waited for him to open the window.

But he did me one better.

He came outside.

“Sonny? What are you doing?”

I turned and saw him heading down the front steps. “Gesturing,” I said, my heart racing. I smiled and lowered the boom box a little. My arms were killing me.

Slowly, he began to walk toward me. “You know, I like nineties teen movies,” he said. “John Cusack holding a boom box over his head is from Say Anything, which is an eighties movie.”

“Yeah, well, you try finding an iconic, grand romantic gesture that isn’t lame in a nineties teen movie. At least I got the soundtrack right.”

“Goats Vote for Melons grew on you?”

“You wish. I just happen to like this one song. And luckily, in dorky hipster fashion, they released this album on cassette. Weirdos.”

He started to smile, but then he caught himself. “What are you doing here?” he asked again.

“At school the other day, in the art room, I didn’t say everything I needed to.”

“You sure?” he asked. “You said quite a bit.”

I cringed. “I may have gone overboard.”

“Well, you weren’t entirely wrong.” But he didn’t elaborate beyond that. “Is that the flannel I gave Amy?”

I looked down at the red shirt. “Oh, yeah. It is. She’s not really into grunge – that was all me – so she gave to me.”

“It looks nice on you,” he said.

“Thank you.” The song on the boom box faded away, so I set the archaic machine down in the grass. “Listen, Ryder, there’s one more thing I needed to —”

The garage door slid open and Ms. Tanner’s car backed out, stopping in the middle of the driveway. She honked the horn once, then stared at us from the driver’s-side window.

“Are you going somewhere?” I asked Ryder, surprised.

“The airport,” he said.

“Oh. Where are you headed?”

“DC.”

My face split into a smile I couldn’t hold back. “You’re visiting your dad?”

“Yeah. Mom’s not too thrilled about it, but … So you had something you wanted to say, Sonny?”

“Right. Yeah.” I took a deep breath. “I know I said a lot of things the other day, about your flaws. And I meant it. You’re pretentious and stubborn and you drive me insane sometimes, but … I love you. And I just needed you to know that.”

There, I’d said it. I now wanted to throw up. But I’d said it.

I hadn’t expected him to say it back. I really hadn’t. But for just a second, as we stood there in his front yard, I thought he might. I thought my grand gesture, my honesty, might have won him over.

He opened his mouth, but before any words could come out —

“Ryder!”

We both turned and saw his mother leaning out the open driver’s-side window.

“We’ve got to go,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said, looking back at me. “I’ve got to go.”

He started to walk away, but I panicked and grabbed his arm and nearly tripped over the boom box. “Wait,” I said. “Just wait. Can … can you catch a later flight?”

“No,” he said. “That only works in the movies.”

I let go of his arm, feeling defeated all over again.

“Sonny, I …” He stopped himself, then shook his head. “I’ve got to go,” he repeated.

“Okay,” I said.

I stayed where I was, watching as he walked away.

He climbed into the passenger’s side, and his mom rolled up her window. She acted as if I wasn’t there now, a heartbroken teenage girl with an old boom box in the middle of her front lawn.

I felt my bottom lip begin to tremble, and I choked back the lump in my throat. I didn’t want anyone, but especially her, to see me cry. I stood there, telling myself that this was exactly what I’d expected. That I’d had no preconceived notions of changing his mind or convincing him to forgive me. That I’d only come here to tell him how I felt, to finish off my confession.

But that vow of honesty meant I had to be honest with myself, too, and the truth was, part of me had held on to hope. Some small part of me had thought that this big romantic gesture and declaring my love for him eighties-movie-style would be enough. That maybe it would make him see that, no matter how I’d screwed up, I was still the girl he’d fallen for. Twice.

But his mom was pulling out of the driveway now, delicately maneuvering past Gert, and turning onto the street. Chauffeuring him off to a plane that would take him even farther from me.

It’s over, I thought.

But then —

Maybe it was just my imagination or wishful thinking, but I thought I saw Ryder look back at me as they drove away.

Chapter 32

I didn’t hear from him.

I didn’t expect to, but Amy did.

“I thought he would call,” she said. “I was sure he would.”

“See, this is why you need someone like me in your life,” I said. “You are too optimistic for your own good, Amy Rush.”

She sat down next to me on the bed. “Maybe after spring break … Maybe he’s just busy with his dad in DC.”

That was possible. The news coverage did make it seem like they were pretty busy. Ryder and Senator Cross had posed for photos with some foreign diplomats, and Greg Johnson had done a whole story about it.

Senator Cross might not have represented our region, but that hadn’t stopped Ryder from becoming a bit of a local celebrity.

As much as seeing him on the screen had made me ache, it had also made me happy. In the photos, Ryder looked genuinely pleased to be there with his dad. I hoped that meant they were working things out.

Amy wrapped her arms around my shoulders and rested her head on top of mine. “If he can forgive his dad, maybe he’ll —”

“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t give me a reason to hope. I screwed up, Amy. He has no reason to forgive me…. I told him I loved him, Amy. And he didn’t say it back.”

“He’s an idiot,” she said.

“He’s not, but thank you.”

As much as it had sucked to lose Ryder, I knew I was lucky to have Amy back. Knowing how much I’d hurt her over the past few months still made me sick. She was, without question, the most important person in my life. And the most selfless friend I could have asked for.

I knew she didn’t fully trust me yet, but we’d find our way back eventually. And no matter what, I would never, ever let anything – a boy, a lie, or my own insecurities – get between us again.

“Thank you, by the way,” I said as she untangled herself from me. “For locking us in a room together and helping me find the boom box. I’m not sure I ever would have gotten him to listen to me if you hadn’t done that.”

“You’re welcome,” she said. “I wish it had made more of a difference. I just really thought if he heard you out …”

“It did help, though,” I assured her. “It wasn’t just about getting him to forgive me. It’s about being honest. It’s something I’m still working on.”

“I like Honest Sonny.”

“Good, because she’s here to stay.” I frowned. “And honestly? Honest Sonny is not a fan of that purple lipstick on you.”

“Honest Sonny can get over it.”

I grinned. “Oh. Fierce Amy is fun, too.”

She blushed, but she smiled.

I was proud of Amy. She was still shy, still sweet, but she’d stopped letting people push her around. Even me.

Especially me.

Amy looked down at my phone again. “He’ll call,” she said.

“What makes you so sure?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I just am. You two had something special, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” I said. I shook my head. “You’re being too nice even for you. Bring Fierce Amy back. Hurry.”

She tossed her brown curls over her shoulder and grinned. “This is Fierce Amy. And I am fierce in my assertion that he’ll call.”

I laughed and got to my feet and extended a hand to her. “Come on, Fierce Amy,” I said, pulling her up, too. “Honest Sonny is honestly starving.”

“Pizza?” Amy asked, heading for the bedroom door.

“Hell yes.”

* * *

“Who are you writing to?” Wesley asked, looking at the pieces of pale blue stationery I had spread across a section of the dining room table. He’d arrived at the Rush house on the first night of spring break with a suitcase full of dirty laundry and a big grin on his face. As any college student would. But the week was nearly over, and he’d be flying back to New York the next day.

And I’d already handed him the last of my payments to cover Gert’s repairs, thanks to my new job at Daphne’s. I was no longer in debt to him. At least not financially.

The truth was, I owed a lot to Wesley and his family. I’d never be able to pay them back for everything they’d done for me over these past few months. And I knew they’d never let me even if I could.

“My dad,” I said, shaking out my aching wrist. “We’ve started writing letters to each other.”

Wesley sat down across from me with his bowl of cereal. His gray eyes flicked over the table, counting the pages I’d already filled. I blushed. I’d only meant to write two or three, but this letter was beginning to resemble a novel.

“Why not type it?” he asked. “It would probably be faster.”

“I think I’ve had my fill of technology for a while,” I admitted. I put down my pen, deciding to give my wrist a break. This was the most I’d handwritten in years. “Besides. This feels more personal. And I think that’s what my dad and I need right now.”

Wesley smiled. “I am rather fond of handwritten letters.”

“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.”