Kody Keplinger - Lying Out Loud

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?”

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.