Kody Keplinger - Lying Out Loud

I, Sonny Elizabeth Ardmore, do hereby confess that I am an excellent liar.

It was never something I aspired to be, but rather a talent that I couldnt avoid. It started with lies about my homework I could actually convince teachers that my dog ate it, with fake tears and everything if needed and then I told lies about my family my father was an international businessman, not a deadbeat thief whod been tossed in jail when I was seven and, eventually, I was lying about everything else, too.

But as excellent a liar as I may be, lying hasnt led me to much excellence lately. So let the record show that this time I am telling the truth. All of it. The whole shebang. Even if it kills me.

I tell the most lies on bad days, and the Friday my cell phone one of those old, clunky, pay-as-you-go bricks that only played polyphonic ringtones decided to stop working after six long years of use, was a particularly bad day.

It had flatlined sometime in the night, a peaceful, quiet sort of death, and left me without my usual five a.m. alarm. Instead, I awoke when Amys phone (the newest, most expensive model of smartphone, naturally) began blaring an all-too-realistic fire truck style siren.

I bolted upright, my heart jackhammering, while next to me, on her side of the bed, my best friend snoozed on.

Amy. I shoved her arm. Amy, shut that thing off.

She groaned and rolled over. The siren kept wailing as she fumbled with the phone. Finally, it went silent.

Why in Gods name would you want to wake up to that sound? I asked her as she stretched her long, thin arms over her head.

Its the only alarm loud enough to wake me up.

And it barely accomplishes that.

It wasnt until then that I realized what Amys horrible wake-up call meant. I was supposed to be up before her. I was supposed to get ready and sneak out of her house before her parents woke up at six. But my phone wasnt working and it was six-fifteen and I, to put it bluntly, was fucking screwed.

Why dont you just tell my parents you fell asleep here last night? Amy asked as I scrambled around the room, dragging out the duffel bag of wrinkled clothes I kept hidden under her bed. They wont care.

Because then theyll want to go reassuring my mom about where I was, I said, pulling a green T-shirt on over my incredibly impressive bedhead. And thatll open up a whole new set of questions, and just no.

I still dont see why you cant just tell them she kicked you out. Amy stood up and started combing her dark curls, which, despite all the laws of physics, still looked perfect after a nights sleep. Amy was one of those rare people who looked gorgeous first thing in the morning. It brought a whole new meaning to beauty rest. I would have hated her for it if I didnt love her so much.

Its just too complicated, okay?

I took the comb from her and began to work out the knots in my hair. That was the only thing Amy and I had in common we both had insanely curly hair. Like corkscrew curls. The kind that everyone thinks they want but, in reality, you cant do a damn thing with. But where Amys were long, dark brown, and perfect, mine were shoulder length, blond, and slowly destroying my sanity. It took forever to pick out the tangles each morning, and today, I didnt have forever.

Well, I hope you and your mom get it worked out soon, she said, because I love having you stay here, but this is getting a little too complicated.

Youre telling me. She wasnt the one who was about to make a two-story drop out of a window.

In the hall, I could hear Mr. Rush moving around, getting ready for work. Now, with my teeth unbrushed and without a speck of deodorant to cover up my glorious natural odor, was the time to make my escape.

I ran over to Amys window and shoved it open. If I die doing this, please deliver a somewhat humorous but overall heartbreaking eulogy at my funeral, okay?

Sonny! Amy grabbed my arm and dragged me away from the window. No way. Youre not doing that.

Why not?

For starters, its not safe, she said. When she realized that wasnt enough to deter me, she added, And also youd be dropping right past the kitchen window. If Moms down there eating breakfast and sees a girl falling from the sky

Good point. Damn it. What do I do?

Just wait until everyone leaves, she said. You can sneak out and lock the door with the spare key. Its under the

Flowerpot next to the door. Yeah. I know.

And while this was a more practical plan, to be sure, it wasnt the most suited for punctuality. Amys parents didnt leave until seven-thirty, only fifteen minutes before I had to be at school. The minute the front door slammed, I scrambled down the hall and into the bathroom to finish my necessary hygiene rituals before bolting downstairs and out the door myself.

I locked up, then cut across their backyard and down Milton Street to the Graysons Groceries parking lot, where I had left my car the night before.

Hello, Gert, I said, tapping the hood of the old silver station wagon. She was one ugly beast of a car. But she was mine. I climbed into the front seat. Hope you slept well, but Im in a hurry, so please dont be in a shitty mood today.

I turned the key in the ignition. It revved, but the engine wouldnt turn over. I groaned.

Not today, Gert. Have some mercy.

I tried again and, as if shed heard me, Gerts motor finally started to hum. And, just like that, we were off.

The bell had already rung by the time I pulled into the senior parking lot, which meant the main door had locked and Mrs. Garrison, the perpetually grumpy front desk lady, had to buzz me in.

Sonya, she said, greeting me when I got to the main office.

I cringed. I hated hated my full first name.

Youre late, she announced, as if I somehow wasnt aware.

I know. Im sorry, I just

Showtime.

My lip started to quiver and, on cue, my eyes began to well up with tears. I looked down at my shoes and took a dramatic, raspy breath.

My hamster, Lancelot, died this morning. I woke up and he was just in his wheel lying so still. I covered my face with my hands and began to sob. Im sorry. You probably think its stupid, but I loved him so much.

Oh, sweetheart.

I know its not an excuse, but I just Im sorry, Lancelot.

I was worried I might be playing it up too much, but then she shoved a tissue into my hand and patted my arm sympathetically.

Let it out, she said. I know it can be hard. When I lost Whiskers last year Listen, Ill write you a note for first block. Ill say you had a family emergency. Dont worry about it. Ill make sure this is excused.

Thank you, I sniffed.

The tears had dried up by the time I reached my AP European history class. Mr. Buckley was in the middle of his lecture when I slipped into the room. Unfortunately, he never missed anything, so there was no chance of me sneaking back to my chair without him noticing.

Ms. Ardmore, he said. You finally decided to join us.

Sorry to interrupt, I said. I have a note.

I handed him the slip of paper Id been given at the front desk. He read it quickly and nodded. Fine. Take your seat. I suggest you borrow notes on the first part of the lecture from one of your classmates.

Thats it? Ryder Cross asked as I slid into the seat behind his. She comes in half an hour late and there are no consequences?

She has a note from the office, Mr. Cross, Mr. Buckley said. What consequences would you suggest?

I dont know, Ryder admitted. But she disrupted the class by coming in late, and its not as if this is the first time. Back at my school in DC, the teachers were much more strict. Excuses were rarely accepted. And the students cared much more about their education, too. Here, it seems like just about anything can get excused.