Kody Keplinger - Lying Out Loud

Now, I wasn’t exactly bursting with school spirit, but even I couldn’t stand his attitude. Which became even more repulsive when he started posting snarky Facebook statuses about how lame our small town was. You’d think our lack of five-star fine dining was putting him in physical agony.

The long and short of it was, Ryder came from money. Political money. His father was a congressman from Maryland — a fact he never failed to share at any opportunity — and in his not-so-humble opinion, Hamilton and everyone who lived here sucked.

Everyone, that is, except Amy. Because Ryder had developed a disgustingly obvious and totally unrequited crush. I couldn’t fault him for that, though. Amy was gorgeous and rich, just like him. Amy, however, was the kind of girl who gave personalized Christmas cards to all of the lunch ladies, and he was a dick.

He was still staring at me, and I suddenly became all too aware of the jeans I’d been wearing for almost a week without washing them and the torn hem on the sleeve of my T-shirt. I straightened up and stared him down, daring him to compare me to the girls at his school in DC, but before he could say anything, Mr. Buckley cleared his throat.

“Okay, class. Enough’s enough. History is long, but we only have a year to get through this material. Now, let’s get back to the Great Schism, which, I know, sounds vaguely like toilet humor, but we’re going to press on, regardless.”

Ryder turned back around in his seat, and I went about my business taking notes on that unfortunately named moment in history.

Things were looking up until third block, when I realized I’d left my chemistry book at Amy’s. I had to convince Mrs. Taylor, who was a total hard-ass and known to give detention for lesser things, that I’d been tutoring at the local children’s hospital in Oak Hill and had accidentally left it with one of the kids.

“I’ll get it back from her tomorrow,” I said. “I’m going to see her before she starts her next round of chemo. I promise to get it back then.”

And she bought it. Hook, line, and sinker.

I was aware of my status as a terrible person. But I liked to think of my lying abilities as gifts. And why else would I have them if not to be used? Especially on days like this, where everything just seemed to be going wrong.

I didn’t have enough money in my wallet for lunch, so rather than admitting that things were shitty at home and I was broke, I told the much-too-soft-hearted cashier that I’d given my last dollar to the homeless man who occupied the corner a few blocks from school.

She covered it for me.

Then the strap on my crappy two-dollar flip-flop broke, a volleyball slammed right into my face in gym class, and, to top it off, I started my period.

Amy would call it karma. She’d say this was the universe’s punishment for all the lies. But, the truth was, the lying helped. When everything felt out of control, it put me back in control.

I was sure the day couldn’t get worse, which was, perhaps, my fatal flaw. When you let yourself think that things can’t get worse, they inevitably will.

“So I’ll see you tonight?” Amy asked as we headed out into the senior parking lot.

“Yep. I can’t text you, though, so you’ll have to watch for me. I’ll be outside around the usual time.”

“Okay.” She gave me a quick hug. “Have fun at work.”

I waved as she hurried off to her Lexus. I tried to tell myself I wasn’t horribly jealous of her and her rich parents and her fancy car. I had Gert, after all. Who wouldn’t want Gert?

I might have been good at lying, but even I didn’t buy that one for a minute.

I climbed into the car and tossed my backpack into the passenger’s seat. “All right, Gert,” I said, sticking the key in the ignition. “Time for work.”

But while I was a reliable employee (most of the time), Gert had decided she wasn’t in the mood today. The engine revved and revved, but nothing happened. The battery was dead, and I had to be at the movie theater for my shift in twenty minutes.

I grabbed my cell, planning to call Amy to ask for a ride, only to then remember that my ancient phone had recently breathed its last breath. I hopped out of the car, hoping to flag her down before she left the parking lot, but I was too late. I could already see the Lexus speeding off into the distance.

There was no way around it. I was stuck. I’d have to find someone to jump-start my car, and who knew how long that would take.

And just then, because it’s possible that all Amy’s theories about the universe’s revenge were true, the sky opened up and it began pouring rain. Leaving me with only one thing to say:

“Motherfucker.”

The senior parking lot was already close to empty when the rain started. I sat inside Gert, watching the exit and hoping someone would come out soon. Unfortunately, the first person to appear, my would-be savior, was a tall boy in the T-shirt of an obscure band, a distressed but still clearly expensive hoodie, and two-hundred-dollar jeans.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said as I reached for the door handle. I wanted to just wait for the next person to come out, but who knew how long that would be. Chances were, the rest of these cars belonged to the overachieving types who stayed after school for chess club and student government. Those nerds and their resume-building activities were no good to me right now. So Ryder Cross was my only choice.

I hopped out of the car, holding my history textbook over my head to protect my curls from the downpour of doom.

“Ryder!” I shouted. He was already halfway across the parking lot. “Hey, Ryder!”

He stopped and turned to look at me. He didn’t have an umbrella, and the rain was making his clothes cling to him. The view wasn’t half bad. Unfortunately, however, my next question would require him to speak.

“My car’s dead,” I said. “Do you have jumper cables or something?”

He started walking in my direction, but he was shaking his head. “I don’t.”

I sighed. “Of course not. Let me guess, the cars in DC don’t die? Or need repairs?”

“Can’t you call someone?”

“My phone doesn’t work.”

“Seems like everything around you is faulty.”

“Well, not everyone has politician parents to pay for our things. Some of us actually have to work for what we own. Your concern is appreciated, though.”

He rolled his eyes. “If you’re going to be like that, then forget it. I was going to let you use my phone.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’m not an asshole.”

“Debatable.”

“You’d be calling Amy, right?”

And there it was. The ulterior motive I’d been expecting. He was right, though. Who else would I call? I knew she wouldn’t have jumper cables, but she’d at least be able to give me a ride to the theater.

We climbed into Gert, both of us soaked. The carpeted seats would be brilliantly moldy the next day — something to look forward to. He handed me his phone, the same model as Amy’s, and I quickly dialed her number. It was the only one I had memorized.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Amy.”

“Sonny? Where are you calling from? I don’t recognize the number.”

“Our favorite human being was kind enough to bestow the honor of telephone usage on me.”

Silence.

“I’m borrowing Ryder’s phone.”

“Oh.”

I didn’t have to see her face to know her tiny button nose had wrinkled.

“My car’s dead and my phone is broken. And my shift is in … oh, seven minutes. Please help.”

“On my way.”

I returned the phone to Ryder. “She’s coming back to get me. So you can go now.” And then, with every ounce of willpower I had, I forced myself to add, “And thanks. For the phone.”

He shrugged, but he didn’t move to get out of the car.

“Do you need something?” I asked.

“No. I just figured I’d stick around until Amy gets here … just to see you off safely.”

I snorted. “Oh, yes. I’m sure my safety is a priority of yours. Stop wasting your time with this crush on Amy. It’s annoying and pathetic and, if you want the truth, she’s not into you. At all.”

“Sorry. I didn’t realize you spoke for Amy now.”

“I’m her best friend. I know how she feels about pretty much everything. I’m just trying to save you the heartbreak.”

“You care about my heartbreak about as much as I care about your safety.” He shook his head. “I’d rather hear Amy’s feelings from Amy, if you don’t mind.”

“You won’t. As much as she can’t stand you, she wouldn’t tell you that. She’s too nice.”

“Clearly it hasn’t rubbed off on you.”

A second later, Amy’s Lexus turned the corner into the parking lot. I grabbed my bag and climbed out of the station wagon, Ryder not too far behind me. Amy slid into a parking space, and I heard the click of the passenger-side door being unlocked.

“Later,” I said, hopping into the Lexus, but Ryder grabbed the door, sticking his head into the cab before I could close it.

“Hello, Amy,” he said.

“Oh. Hi, Ryder.”

“How are you?”

“I’m fine.”

“Which is code for ‘annoyed,’ ” I said.

She elbowed me.

“Sorry for the inconvenience,” he said. “It was really nice of you to come back and get Sonny.”

“Of course. Thank you for letting Sonny use your phone to call.”

“Sonny is right here,” I said. “And I already thanked him.”

“So, Amy, are you doing anything this weekend?” Ryder asked.

Amy glanced at me, her eyes widening in a way that clearly meant, Oh, dear God, help me get away from him.