Lying Out Loud

Chapter 9

Okay, so maybe I was a little overconfident. Just, like, a tiny bit.

But so far my plan was working pretty brilliantly. On Tuesday, I asked Ryder if I could borrow a pen, and he let me. And on Thursday, he helped me pick up my books after I accidentally-on-purpose knocked them off my desk.

Progress!

My plan had one fatal flaw, however, because while I was making Ryder not despise me, making him not adore Amy was proving to be impossible.

Ryder, obviously thinking he and Amy had a great cyber connection, kept trying to connect with her in real life. Over the next week, he walked up to her in the hallways at school, waved to her in the parking lot, and he continued asking her to sit with him at lunch.

Amy always gave an excuse, but that was the problem. Amy was so sweet, so polite, that no one would realize she was trying to avoid them.

“We’ve got to do something about this,” I said. “Steering clear of him isn’t going to be enough.”

“I don’t know what else to do,” she said. We’d met in the parking lot before school that morning and were walking into the building together. “And he keeps texting me the sushi emoji.”

I laughed.

“I don’t get it,” she said.

“It’s an inside joke. We had an emoji war once. It ended over emoji sushi.”

“Well, I don’t know how to respond to it.”

“Don’t,” I said. “In fact … let me do it. You might be too nice to scare him off, but I’m not. Here. Give me your phone.”

She pulled it from her purse and handed it over. “You can hold on to it,” she said. “Like I told you before — the only people who ever call or text me are you and my brother. Well, and Ryder now, I guess, but he’s actually texting you, so …”

I pocketed the phone and gave her a one-armed hug. “Thank you. Have I told you lately that you’re the best, most generous, prettiest friend I have?”

“Yes. Last night when I let you borrow my nail polish.”

“Right.”

“And again five minutes ago when I let you have the last sip of my coffee.”

“Noted. I’m a very appreciative person. You’re lucky to have me.”

“And you’re so modest, too.” She elbowed me with a grin. “But what are we going to do about Ryder? If me avoiding him isn’t going to work, then —”

But before Amy had even gotten the question out, we found ourselves face-to-face with the devil himself. Ryder had just rounded the corner, and he was heading our way.

Amy only had time to mutter a nervous “Crap” before he was standing right in front of us.

“Amy,” he said with a bright smile.

A smile that should’ve been for me. But I shook off the sudden, irrational pang of jealousy.

“Hi,” Amy said, fidgeting next to me.

“How are you?” he asked.

“Okay.” She glanced at me, her eyes begging for help. Only then did Ryder actually seem to notice that I was standing there.

“Oh, Sonny,” he said. “Hi to you, too.”

“Hey. Did you read the chapters for Mr. Buckley’s class?”

“I always read the chapters.” His voice was flat and obvious, without a trace of humor.

“Right,” I said, feeling like an idiot for asking. Because of course he had. He was Ryder Cross. And despite the progress we’d made, apparently we weren’t quite at small talk level yet. “Really interesting stuff we’ve been reading about. England and beheadings and all.”

But his eyes were already back on Amy.

“Listen,” he said. “I know you’ve been busy lately, but I was thinking maybe we could get together this weekend. There’s an Iranian film that just came out, and I thought we could go see it together.”

“Um … well.” Amy looked at me again, as if I could somehow help her out of this one.

When I just shrugged, her eyes began searching elsewhere, and after a second she grabbed my arm.

“I have to pee,” she announced. “Be right back.”

And she promptly began dragging me toward the bathroom, leaving Ryder with a look of pronounced confusion etched on his face.

“Well, that’s one way to make him stop worshipping you,” I said once we were standing in front of the row of sinks. “Talking about your bodily functions.”

“He keeps asking me out,” she said. “And he’s just going to ask again if I tell him I’m busy this weekend.”

“I know,” I said. “We’ve gotta come up with another way to … Wait.”

“What?”

“I have an idea. Avoiding him isn’t going to work, right? You’re too nice and he just keeps trying. So maybe when you do have to talk to him, you could do things like what you just did.”

“Talk about my bodily functions?”

“Among other things,” I said. “Be weird. Be all the things he can’t stand.”

“I don’t know what he can’t stand,” she said.

“Well … I know he doesn’t like people who are flaky. Or people who are late for things. He hates when people are irresponsible and he’s kind of a snob, so pop culture references get on his nerves.”

“So … I should act like you?” she offered.

“Hey now.”

“I’m kidding.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “But … I don’t know. I don’t want to be rude.”

“Yes,” I said. “You do. For once in your life you do.”

“Sonny …”

“It won’t kill you,” I assured her. “Come on. Please. Just be a little weird. And not cute, adorkable weird. He’d probably be into that.”

“I don’t —”

“No time,” I said. “Let’s go.”

I dragged her back out of the bathroom. As expected, Ryder was still waiting right where we’d left him. He smiled at Amy.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Oh, ye —” She stopped, glanced at me, and then cleared her throat. “No. I’m a little bloated, so …”

Ryder raised an eyebrow. “Okay … anyway. So about that date?”

“Can’t,” Amy said. “I, uh … There’s a Real Housewives marathon on this weekend. I have to watch it.”

“You watch reality TV?” As expected, he appeared to be disgusted by this revelation.

“She’s obsessed,” I said, chiming in. “Deeply obsessed. She’s seen every season of The Real World, too. Even the old ones that came on back in the nineties.”

Amy nodded. “Yep. So I’ll be busy this weekend.”

“Can’t you record it?” Ryder asked. “The marathon?”

“I … um … No. I can’t. I have to, uh, live-tweet it.” But she couldn’t resist adding, “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. Maybe another time. Next Saturday —”

“Amy, don’t you need to get to class?” I asked. “The bell’s about to ring. You’ll be late. Again.”

“Huh? Oh.” She nodded. “Right. Late. I’m always late. Late Amy. That’s what my teachers call me, so … Okay. Bye.”

She took off down the hallway. Ryder frowned after her, then he turned to me. “That was … different. Is she okay?”

“What? No. She’s always like that,” I lied.

“She is?” Ryder looked skeptical. “That didn’t seem like the Amy I know.”

“You don’t know her as well as you think.”

“Hmm.”

“Come on,” I said, eager to change the subject. “We should get to class, too.”

Ryder nodded and he fell into step with me as we headed for Mr. Buckley’s classroom. Despite my failed attempt before, I tried to start a conversation with him again. I skipped the small talk, though, and went straight for the big guns.

“So how’s your dad’s campaign going?”

Ryder shrugged. “No idea. Why?”

“I’m just curious. Tuesday is election day, and I know he’s running for reelection.” But since Senator Cross didn’t represent our region, I realized that might have been a wee bit strange, so I added, “Amy told me.”

“My dad and I aren’t exactly speaking right now. And I don’t see that changing anytime soon.”

“Oh. I’m sorry to hear that. I know his campaign is kind of a big deal. I just thought you might be going to DC to help him with it.”

“I’m sure you and everyone else in this school would love that,” he said as we entered the classroom and took our seats.

“No,” I said quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I was just wondering.”

“Well, to answer your question, no. I don’t particularly want him to win, so …”

“That’s pretty harsh,” I said, surprised. I knew what his dad had done, but I’d also done some research on Senator Cross. He was, without question, a shitty husband, but by all accounts, he was a good politician. He’d been the champion of several progressive bills over the past few years, and he seemed to be doing a lot to help the poor and middle class in Maryland.

Hot supermodel mistress aside, I would’ve voted for the guy.

“Nothing he doesn’t deserve,” Ryder said.

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, not when I technically wasn’t supposed to know the details of the falling-out with his dad. I was saved the trouble, however, when the bell rang and class was underway.

An hour and a half later, I caught up with Amy as she left her first block class.

“If it isn’t Late Amy,” I teased. “You still bloated? Also, wow, that sounds like a pregnancy joke.”

“Ugh.” She groaned. “I didn’t know what to say. That was so awful.”

“No, it wasn’t,” I told her. We were weaving our way through the crowded hallway. For a school that barely had four hundred students, Hamilton High could get surprisingly congested. “Actually, you were perfect. Just do that every time you see Ryder, and he’ll be over you in no time.”

“But I don’t want to do that,” Amy said. “It was so awkward.”

“It was supposed to be.” I looped my arm through hers. “Don’t worry. It’ll be fine. Just a few more encounters with weird, flaky Amy and this thing will all be done.”

Amy looked like she was about to protest, but then I realized something.

“Crap. I left my toothbrush in your bathroom this morning. You don’t think your parents will go in there, right? And notice?”

“Notice your toothbrush?” Amy shook her head. “I doubt it. They have no reason to go in there. They have their own bathroom.”

“Good,” I said, relieved, as we slid into our seats in Mrs. Perkins’s English class. “I’ve been getting sloppy lately. I left my shoes on the mat the other night, and two days ago I forgot to lock the front door on my way out.”

“Well,” Amy said, pulling out her textbook, “they haven’t said anything to me about any of those things.”

“Yeah. I know. I’m just paranoid.”

“If you’re really that worried about it, we could just tell them,” she suggested. “They won’t care that you’re staying, Sonny. I’ve told you. If you just tell them you were kicked out —”

I shook my head. “No. It’ll be too complicated. They’ll want to talk to my mom and … just no. It’s better if we keep things the way they are.”

Amy sighed. “Okay,” she said. “I still don’t see what the problem is, but it’s your choice. A few weeks ago I would’ve said there’s no way we could keep it from my parents for this long, but clearly that’s not the case.”

“I am a magnificent sneak,” I said. “The Russians should hire me as a spy. In fact, for all you know, maybe they already have.”

“You just told me like three things that could’ve given you away,” Amy pointed out.

“But they didn’t!” I declared.

Amy shook her head, giggling.

“I should stop worrying about it, though,” I said as Mrs. Perkins entered the room and began scribbling instructions on the whiteboard. “Your parents figuring things out, I mean. It’s been a few weeks. If they were going to find out I was living with you, they would have by now. I’m probably in the clear.”