Kody Keplinger - Lying Out Loud

“I’m sure we can find one.” She smiled at the piece of paper. “I think telling the truth will earn you some serious karma points, too. Have you talked to Ryder?”

“Karma doesn’t like me that much. And neither does Ryder. He still won’t speak to me.” There was a squeezing feeling in my chest and the threat of tears whenever I mentioned him. I took a deep breath and tried to shake it off before standing up and stretching my arms over my head. “I think I have a long way to go before the universe starts doing me any favors.”

Just then, my cell phone began to ring. I glanced down at the screen and was surprised to see a number I recognized. It belonged to Daphne’s, one of the clothing stores in the Oak Hill Mall, where I’d applied back in December.

Amy must have noticed the startled smile on my face, because she laughed and said, “Or maybe not,” before prancing out of the room.

I had made a vow to be honest about everything and with everyone, no matter how difficult it was.

And that meant I had to talk to my dad. In person.

It was a two-hour drive to the correctional facility, but Mr. Rush assured me that he didn’t mind taking me.

When we arrived, a guard patted us both down, checking that we weren’t bringing in anything illegal, then we were free to enter the room where the inmates waited. The room was lined with long, rectangular tables. The wearers of the orange jumpsuits were on one side, and the rest of us were on the other.

I may not have seen my dad in years, but I knew him the minute I saw him. Mostly because he looked so much like me. His hair was blond and curly, his nose had a slight upturn, and his ears stuck out just a little more than was fashionable. Yep. I was his spitting image, as the old folks say.

“Sonny.” His face split into a wide, boyish grin when he saw me. “Wow. You’re a grown-up. In my head, you’re still this tall.” He held his hand just a bit higher than the edge of the table.

“Well, you’re not too far off,” I said. I smiled, but the nerves were eating me alive. This man might look and sound like me — I definitely got my charm from him, not Mom — but I still didn’t know him.

He could have been a liar like me, too.

He had been in the past.

Dad looked up and spotted Mr. Rush standing behind me. “Hello,” he said.

“Dad, this is Mr. Rush,” I said. “He’s my friend Amy’s dad.”

“Oh, yeah. I remember little Amy. And that’s where I called you on Christmas, right? At the Rushes’ house?”

I nodded.

“Hi. I’m Collin,” Mr. Rush said. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Dad hesitated. “Thanks for bringing Sonny Bunny here to see me. I take it her mother refused? She’s always been a little on the difficult side, if you know what I mean.”

I sat down in the folding chair across from Dad and took a deep breath. Behind me, Mr. Rush cleared his throat.

“I’m going to step outside for a minute,” he said. “Give you two a chance to talk.”

When he was gone, Dad turned to me, confused. “What’s going on, Sonny Bunny?”

“Dad, I … I need to talk to you about Mom.”

I let it all spill out then. From her short disappearances when I was younger to her complete abandonment now. I told him about staying at Amy’s and how kind the Rushes had been to me. I told him every little detail, even when it hurt like hell to say aloud. By the time I was done, his confident, smiling, all-charm demeanor had fallen away.

His head was in his hands, his shoulders slumped forward. And he looked like a different person. Older. Haggard. Like someone who’d been in prison for years.

“Fuck,” he said. “Goddamn it.”

“Dad?”

“I’m so, so sorry, Sonny.” And I thought he might have been on the verge of tears. “I had no idea. Your mother was always unreliable, but I didn’t think she’d ever …” He took a deep breath and looked up, our eyes meeting. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” I said.

“Yes, it is. I’m your father. I should’ve been there. Instead of here.” There was a note of anger in his voice now. This gruff tone that I hadn’t expected. It was so startling that I scooted back in my seat a little. “I should’ve stayed in touch with you.”

“You said you tried to write and call.”

“I didn’t try hard enough,” he admitted. “I told myself I’d done everything I could. I’m a good liar that way.”

“Yeah. Me, too.”

“I figured you’d be fine with your mother. She didn’t want me involved anyway, so … But damn it, if I had known she’d do this, I would’ve … God, I could kill her for leaving you.”

“Maybe don’t say that with so many guards around?” I suggested. “Look, the important part is that you’re here now.”

“Yeah.” He reached across the table and took my hand in his, the anger in his voice fading. “I’m here now. And I’m not going anywhere.”

“Literally,” I joked. “Prison and all.” I paused. “Sorry. Was that rude? I’ve been told I have a bad habit of undercutting serious moments with jokes.”

But Dad was smiling. “You get that from me.”

“I do?”

“Oh, yeah,” he said. “It’s gotten me into trouble a few times. As for being stuck here, though … Well, not for much longer. I should be getting out in a couple of months.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “And … I know you don’t really know me, and I don’t even know where I’ll be living yet, and you’ll be graduating soon, but …” He cleared his throat. “But I hope we can spend more time together then.”

“I’d like that,” I said.

But I wasn’t getting my hopes up just yet. Dad had been out of jail before. The question was, how long would he stay out?

I wasn’t ready to trust him completely, but I was ready to try. To give him a chance and to let him surprise me. Now that he knew the truth about Mom, about everything, we at least had a place to start.

We talked for a while longer about the boring stuff: school, hobbies, et cetera. He asked about Amy, whom he vaguely remembered from my childhood, and he even inquired about my romantic status.

“I actually just went through a breakup,” I admitted as the familiar ache of missing Ryder throbbed in my chest again.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, squeezing my hand. “Boys are the worst and you can’t trust any of them. I should know.”

“Well, not in this case. In this case, I’m the one who shouldn’t have been trusted.”

I was glad that Mr. Rush walked in before my dad could ask any more about that subject. Because — vow of honesty and all — I would have had to tell him the truth.

“Sonny,” Mr. Rush said, putting a hand on my shoulder. “It’s about time to go.”

Dad stood up. “Thank you,” he said to Mr. Rush. “For taking care of my daughter.”

“There’s no need to thank me,” Mr. Rush said. “We love Sonny. We’re glad to have her.”

The guard signaled that it was time for us to go. I stood up and hugged Dad over the table. His scent overwhelmed me. The smell of generic soap and … him. I remembered being three or four years old, crying after I’d slammed my finger in the door as he held me to his chest, rocking me, telling me it would be okay.

Fast-forward fourteen years, and I was crying in his arms again.

“I love you, Sonny,” he murmured into my hair.

He let me go slowly, and I wiped my eyes, not sure what had brought on the sudden tears this time. “Bye, Dad.”

He waved as Mr. Rush led me out past the guards. It was hard to walk away from him. But we’d give this whole father-daughter thing a real try. And even if it didn’t work out, as hard as that would be, I knew I wouldn’t be alone this time.

“Thank you,” I said to Mr. Rush once we were in the car.

“Of course,” he said. “I don’t mind driving you to visit your dad.”

I shook my head.

Because that wasn’t what I’d been thanking him for.

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.”