Kody Keplinger - Lying Out Loud

“Maybe.”

We sat on the swings for a while, not talking. And that was okay, too. As much as I liked talking, or typing, to Ryder, it was kind of nice to just sit with him and watch as the sun began to set in the distance.

“We should get going,” he said after a while. “It’s about to get dark.”

“Oh, yes,” I said. “Because elementary school playgrounds are known to be a hotbed of crime and debauchery after sundown.”

“I meant because it’s going to get even colder, smart-ass.” He stood up and offered me his hand. I took it and he pulled me to my feet. Our fingers stayed locked together for just an instant longer than they should have, and when he let go, my hand felt too cold.

I shoved both hands in my pockets and followed Ryder toward the sidewalk.

We walked back to the library in silence, our shoulders brushing lightly against each other.

“This is me,” I said when we reached Gert. I slapped the old clunker on her hood. “Sweet ride, huh?”

“Is it going to start?” Ryder asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Isn’t that the million-dollar question.” I pulled my keys from my purse and unlocked the driver’s side door. “It was nice hanging out with you today, Ryder.”

“You, too.”

I expected him to walk away, but when he didn’t, I looked at him again.

“You should write to your dad,” he said.

I frowned at him. “Why? I told you, he’s probably the deadbeat loser my mom always told me he was.”

“But he might not be,” Ryder said. “It’s been years, you said it yourself. And if you’ve been thinking about him anyway … Maybe it’s worth a shot.”

“But … but what if he doesn’t care about me?” My voice trembled a little on the last words. “What if he lets me down?”

“You won’t know unless you try,” he said. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned since moving here, it’s that sometimes people surprise you, if you let them.”

He was looking right at me when he said this, and the butterflies swarmed in my stomach once again.

He took a step back and started moving toward his car. “See you at school, Sonny.”

I nodded, but I didn’t get in the car. I just stood there, in the December cold, and watched him walk away.

That night, alone in the guest room, I couldn’t sleep.

I lay there, replaying everything that had happened with Ryder. The way he’d smiled at me. The way he’d looked at me, like for once he was actually seeing me, not just his dream girl’s annoying best friend.

But, mostly, I kept thinking about what he’d said about my dad.

Sometimes people surprise you, if you let them.

I hadn’t seen my dad in years. I hadn’t even mentioned him to anyone in years. Not until today. But I’d thought about him. A lot.

He used to push me on the tire swing in our backyard when I was little. He used to bring home big gallons of cookies-and-cream ice cream because it was my favorite. He used to say, “Quiet. You’ll wake up Sonny,” when Mom raised her voice during a fight, even though, most of the time, I was still awake.

Then he got arrested for the first time.

And then the second.

The first time it was for boosting cars, but I only knew that because I’d heard some people in town talking about it when I was little.

“Isn’t that the Ardmore girl? You hear about her dad? Goddamn thief.”

That’s when I started lying, telling people he was an international businessman, not an inmate.

I didn’t know what he’d been charged with the second time. Or any of the times after that. All I knew was that Dad hadn’t spent more than a couple of weeks out of jail since I was seven.

Mom took me to see him every week until she didn’t anymore. He was an asshole. He was a deadbeat. That’s what she said. That’s what I believed.

Maybe it was true, and maybe it wasn’t. Ryder had me questioning all of it now.

My dear friend insomnia wasn’t going anywhere, so I peeled myself off the bed and headed downstairs. Mr. Rush kept an office on the first floor, but Amy and I were welcome to use it if we needed the desktop. And since I wasn’t sure how welcome I was to Amy’s laptop these days, it seemed like a more suitable option.

It was 1:12 a.m. when I opened up the Word document. And it was 1:36 a.m. before I managed to type the first word.

It was a short note. But it felt like pulling teeth. Each word was scary and raw. Each word made me vulnerable. What if it was easier to just leave him out of my life than to reach out and have him hurt me?

I choked back all the fears as my cursor hovered over the PRINT button. I swallowed once, twice, closed my eyes, and clicked.

Before I could change my mind, I found an envelope in Mr. Rush’s desk. I shoved the letter inside, scribbled the to and from addresses, and smacked on a stamp. I’d ask Mr. and Mrs. Rush permission to give their home number tomorrow morning. If they said no, I wouldn’t send it.

But if they said it was okay, I didn’t want any excuse not to drop the letter in the mail.

I put the envelope on the breakfast table, where I wouldn’t be able to hide from it come morning, then I ran back upstairs, buried my face in my pillows, and spent the rest of the night panicking.

I had hopes of sleeping in on the first day of Christmas break. There was no school and my bookstore shift didn’t start until the afternoon.

Amy, however, had other plans.

The guest room door burst open at eight-thirty that morning. “They got here early!” she squealed as she dashed past my bed to the window, which looked out onto the Rushes’ driveway.

“Mmmm,” I groaned, but I forced myself to sit up. Amy hadn’t been this excited about something in a while, especially not since the awkward flirting incident a few weeks ago. “Who’s here early?”

“Wesley and Bianca!” She hopped up and down as she watched a car pull up outside. She turned and made a dash for the door. “Come on!”

I dragged myself out of bed and followed her downstairs.

Very few things in life got Amy this animated. In fact, only three things: puppies, private Shakespeare recitations, and Wesley.

My feet had just touched the bottom step when the front door opened and a pack of Rushes, plus one, spilled in, along with a burst of cold December wind. Amy shrieked and threw herself at the tallest Rush, who greeted her with open arms.

When Amy detached herself from her brother, she turned and repeated the performance with the shorter, auburn-haired girl at his side.

“Hey, Amy,” Bianca said, patting her awkwardly on the shoulder. “It’s good to see you, too.”

At first glance, Bianca didn’t fit in with the Rush family. She was a good half foot shorter than even Mrs. Rush, who was the smallest member of the family. She wore tattered jeans, T-shirts, and faded red Converse, where they wore polished, expensive clothes most people in this town couldn’t afford.

At first glance, Bianca seemed … more like me.

But if you looked closer, at the way they welcomed her, at the way Wesley looked at her, it made perfect sense. Bianca was smart and funny and, from what Amy had told me, she’d played a role in bringing the family back together a few years ago, when it had all but fallen apart. And now, she was part of it.

I didn’t know her that well, but it was clear she belonged with this family.

Meanwhile, I suddenly felt like an intruder. Just some kid mooching off their generosity. Which was why I stayed put on the stairs. As glad as I was to see Wesley, I couldn’t bring myself to interrupt the family reunion happening before me.

But Wesley, who towered over everyone else in the family, only took a second to notice.

“Sonny!” he called, waving me over for a hug. “So Amy finally convinced our parents to let her keep you, huh? It’s about time.”

I laughed and accepted the quick hug. “It’s nice to see you, Wesley.”

“Is it?” he asked. “I’ve texted you a few times, but you never replied. I thought maybe you were too cool for me now.”

“Oh, I am,” I assured him. “But, also, my phone is broken. I’ve been using Amy’s.”

Which reminded me that I had a few text messages from Ryder to delete.

“It’s nice to see you again, Sonny,” Bianca said.

“You, too. How’s New York?”

“Cold.”

“Luckily, she’s got me to warm her up,” Wesley said, putting an arm around her. Bianca rolled her eyes.

“Well, I hate to cut this short,” Mr. Rush said, glancing at his watch. “But I’m sure Bianca’s father will be eager to see her. We can’t hog all her time.”

“I’ll take her home,” Wesley said, grabbing a set from the hook by the door. The keys to his beloved Porsche.

He hadn’t taken it with him to New York. I guess there wasn’t much of a need for it there. But he was clearly excited to get behind the wheel now that he was home.

“Come back over soon,” Amy said. “We have to catch up.”

“Obviously,” Bianca said.

And as quickly as they’d arrived, Wesley and Bianca swept back out the door, while Amy, her parents, and I migrated to the kitchen for breakfast.

“I’m so glad they’re home,” Amy was saying as she poured herself a bowl of cereal. “It’s nice to have the whole family together again.”

“It is,” Mrs. Rush agreed.

A knot twisted in my stomach, and I found myself blinking back sudden tears. I cleared my throat.

“Um, Mr. Rush? Has there been any mail for me?”

Mr. Rush had just filled a mug with coffee. He looked at me over the rim, his eyes knowing. He’d been the one to put my letter in the mail, so he knew exactly why I was asking.