True Lies: A Lying Game Novella (2 page)

3

A LITTLE FRIENDLY CONVERSATION

On Monday night, Garrett and I are at Bella Vista, a restaurant in Tucson nestled at the highest point of a winding, windswept hilltop. The entire dining room is paneled in squeaky-clean, floor-to-ceiling windows so that everyone dining can enjoy the breathtaking views of the fiery sunset behind the Santa Catalina Mountains. Once night falls in earnest, the sky will be studded with glittering stars, making the whole restaurant feel like it’s floating. Around me, the air is heady with garlic and saffron, and the room is alive with bustling waiters in crisp white button-downs, wine and sparkling water splashing against crystal stemware, and the low murmur of conversation.

The waiter sets down a simmering pot of albondigas, veal meatball tapas. Garrett slides the pot toward me. “Ladies first.”

I blush. “Thank you.”

Garrett has been so attentive to me during this dinner—signaling the waitress when I dropped a fork, switching seats with me because mine was in the direct line of the setting sun, asking again and again if I wanted anything more to eat or drink. He’s the kind of guy who’d hold open car doors, who’d bring flowers.

Thayer didn’t do any of that stuff. He and I rarely went out at all since we kept things quiet, but if we did, we went to hole-in-the-wall taco joints far up the highway so no one would see us.

I shudder, shaking off the thought of Thayer entirely. Before this moment, I hadn’t thought of him once.

I spear a chunk of fluke ceviche and return my focus to Garrett. “I love this place. I’ve had a couple birthday dinners here, but haven’t been in a while.”

“Me neither.” Garrett looks around. “My dad knows the owner, though.”

“So that’s how you got this amazing table for us?” I tease. “And the sangria?” Not only had Garrett scored the best table in the place, a little two-seater tucked into a grotto, but we’d barely been seated when our waiter brought over a pitcher of sangria without asking to see our IDs.

“Naturally.” The corners of Garrett’s lips curl into a smile. “I told my dad I was taking a beautiful girl out for dinner. He made it happen.”

I blush at the word
beautiful
. “I think my last visit was in the summer, when I got home from tennis camp.”

“You go to tennis camp every year, right?” Garrett asks, dunking a slice of toasted bread into a shallow dish of olive oil.

I nod, a little surprised that he knows that about me.
Did Char say something?

I feel a twinge of guilt thinking about Charlotte. I hadn’t wanted to talk to her about Garrett during the search party—which, of course, had turned up nothing—so I’d called her repeatedly after we left. She’d only gotten back to me at lunch today at school. “I’ve been so busy with your sister,” Char had apologized. “We’re brainstorming about other ways to find Thayer. You know, flyers around town, or maybe setting up a website, or even just an email for tips, or something. What do you think?”

I had frozen.
Laurel’s been talking to my friends about how to track down Thayer?
“Nice of you to involve me.”

Charlotte laughed. “Be nice. We tried to call you yesterday, but you didn’t pick up.”

“When?” I’d asked. My phone had been on all day. I didn’t miss any calls.

“And Laurel has been really sweet and supportive about Thayer,” Charlotte went on, not answering. “That’s what matters right now, right?”

I bristled. Was everyone against me? First Thayer telling me to be nicer to Laurel, now Char? I changed the subject and got to my original point. “So, I wanted to talk to you about Garrett. You’re over him, right?”

Char had snorted. “Completely. Honestly, I was never even that into him to begin with. He’s been a ball of moods after that whole Louisa thing.”

I wasn’t sure if that was true—Charlotte shut herself in her room after Garrett dumped her. And she’d told me about Garrett and his sister, Louisa—something had happened to her at a party—but I was fuzzy on the specifics. Still, I decided to believe that she’d moved on. “So it wouldn’t bother you if he was dating someone else?”

“Of course not,” she said emphatically.

“Good. Because he kind of asked me to dinner. Tonight.”

Charlotte froze. Her eyes blinked once, then twice, then three times. “Did you say yes?”

“I told him I wanted to make sure it was cool with you,” I lied.

Charlotte coughed. “I, uh . . . of course, it’s cool.” But her voice was shaky. “I appreciate, you know, that you checked with me.”

A flicker of guilt pricked at me. What she didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.

But then Charlotte rose from her seat and gathered her books. “I should go,” she mumbled. “I just remembered I had this English thing.”

To make matters even more awkward, as I watched her go, a presence came up behind me. It was Laurel.

“What?” I snapped, still annoyed that she was suddenly buddy-buddy with my best friends.

Laurel sank into one hip. “Just because Charlotte says she’s okay with you dating her ex, doesn’t mean that she is.”

My eyes widened. “Well, I guess you would know since you’re so tight with my friends these days, right?” I leapt up. “Quit eavesdropping.”

But now, I try just to focus on Garrett. He’s got that clean-cut, preppy look down to a T. The burgundy of his starched oxford shirt perfectly brings out his all-American complexion and makes his blue eyes sparkle. I’d actually never noticed how blue his eyes were until tonight. I’m not sure I even noticed his eyes were blue at all.

“What are you doing this summer?” I prompt, brushing my hair off my shoulders.

“My parents really want me to find some kind of internship,” he says, rolling his eyes. “My mom’s suddenly totally psycho about beefing up my college transcript.” A stray curl falls lightly over his forehead in a way that makes me want to reach out and sweep it back.

“I know the feeling,” I sigh. “My parents are pressuring me to step up my grades, too. The other day, my mom sat me down and gave me this really long talking-to about priorities.” Laurel didn’t get a lecture, naturally. Because she’s already perfect.

Garrett snickers. “Maybe we should set them up on a Mom-date or something. If they hit it off, maybe they’ll leave us alone.”

I laugh. “Best idea ever. But no double dates with them or anything,” I add.

“God, no.” Garrett widens his eyes in mock-horror and I giggle again.

Then Garrett begins describing a Boys & Girls Clubs program he’s interested in.

I smile. “I wouldn’t think someone like you would be into helping little kids.”

Garrett looks abashed. “Why not? Because I’m too much of a jock?”

“Well, sort of,” I admit.

“I’m more than just a jock,” Garrett says softly. “I have a lot going on. Some good . . . some bad.”

I’m intrigued. “Do you want to talk about any of it?”

Garrett’s throat bobs. He looks away, staring hard at the wind chimes hanging from the porch. “I’m guessing you heard about Louisa.”

I study him for a long beat, waiting to see if he says anything else. “I heard a little bit. How is she now?” I say carefully. I remember Charlotte speaking about Louisa in hushed tones, saying how fragile and delicate she seemed.

“She’s . . .” Garrett closes his eyes, laces his fingers together. “She has her good days and her bad days. I feel like I’m the only one really looking out for her, you know? My dad’s remarried, and my mom has her own problems right now.”

I shut my eyes. No wonder Char said Garrett was a basket case. “That’s got to be so hard.”

“It is.” Garrett nods. Then a wobbly expression comes over his face. He takes his napkin, shakes it out, and smoothes it across his lap. “Let’s talk about something else, okay?”

“Absolutely,” I say. “But if you ever want to talk, I’m here.”

Garrett gives me a curious look. “You’re different than I thought you’d be, too, Sutton.”

“Different, how?”

He thinks for a moment, finger to mouth. “Softer, maybe. Easier.”

I give him a saucy look but then decide to take it as a compliment. It’s always nice to surprise people. And really, I don’t want everyone to think I’m a super-bitch.

I settle back into my seat, feeling like something between us has suddenly changed. Garrett really is more than just a jock. He’s sensitive. He cares. He sticks by his family. And he’s told me more about himself than Thayer has lately—which says a lot.

I can learn to like him,
I think. And you know what? I don’t even think it will be hard.

The night is breezy and mild as we leave the restaurant. Garrett rolls down the windows of his SUV and opens the sunroof. I rest my arm against the edge of the car door and lean toward the window slightly, enjoying the tickle of the wind on my face. The road home from Bella Vista winds down through the mountains so that the starry sky seems to wrap itself around us as we descend. Sumac trees line the edge of the narrow roadway, curving softly overhead. The air in the car smells of Garrett’s lingering Burberry aftershave, with an edge of mint from the sugarless gum he’s chewing. The dashboard speakers are hooked up to his iPhone, which is currently playing Mumford & Sons. He drums his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the guitar.

Suddenly, he clears his throat, breaking the easy silence between us. “I had a good time tonight, Sutton,” he says, his voice low. I reach out and place a hand on his knee, liking the warm, solid feeling of his leg under my palm.

“Me, too,” I assure him softly. And suddenly, I mean it. Really mean it.

Garrett beams. “Oh. Okay. Great. I was wondering. . . . Well, I guess I heard some things . . . that you were seeing someone.” He frowns and fiddles with the remote for his iPhone, shuffling the music so a new song cues up. “Thayer, maybe?”

I flinch.
That stupid fight by my locker. Did everyone see through it? Could they tell it was a lover’s quarrel? Or did Laurel start a rumor?

I set my jaw, thinking yet again of Mary’s giggle.
She’s just a friend—hmph.
“Nope,” I say breezily, giving Garrett’s khaki-clad knee a squeeze. “I’m definitely single.” Then I clear my throat. “And you?”

Garrett nods. “I’m single, too.”

I look down at my shoes. “I mentioned to Char that we were going out tonight.”

Garrett’s shoulders crunched up and then relaxed again. “Charlotte and I are better off as friends. She knows that.”

He pulls up alongside the curb in front of my house and shifts the car into park. Unfastening his seat belt, he turns to me. “So . . . bye,” he says, his voice husky.

“Bye,” I say, but I don’t move. I take in his bright, warm expression and the sparkle in his eyes. I grin, then lean in and kiss him lightly on the lips. The kiss is soft, calm, warm.

There aren’t any fireworks or that fizzy champagne feeling I always had when I kissed Thayer. Still, a tiny frisson of excitement blooms in my chest.

The excitement lasts as long as it takes for me to step out of Garrett’s car and onto the stone-lined path to my front door. And then, as his car growls off, the floodlights on our porch click on, illuminating Madeline and Charlotte. Charlotte’s arms are crossed at her chest and Madeline’s hip is cocked. Their expressions are stony.

And just like that, I know I’m in trouble.

4

WHAT HAPPENS IN VEGAS STAYS IN THE HANDBOOK

Charlotte exhales heavily, and Madeline’s Prada stitched ballet flats scrape the wide terra-cotta stones of my front doorstep. Cicadas chirp an accusing, rhythmic chorus.

“What up, bitches?” I say breezily.

Madeline arches an eyebrow and purses her lips and I flush briefly. I can swagger all I want, but I did just kiss my friend’s ex. Still, she said she was over him. She said I could go out with him. I don’t deserve this kind of attitude.

“We’re glad you’re home from your date.” Madeline snarls slightly on the word
date
. “We wanted to talk.”

“Okay.” I cross my arms over my chest. “Talk.”

Madeline puts her hands on her slender hips and fixes her blazing sapphire eyes on me. “We want to initiate a new member into the Lying Game.”

I take a step back, certain at first that I’ve heard her incorrectly. “Um, ladies, you know we’re an exclusive club.” The Lying Game is three people: Charlotte, Madeline, and me. That’s the way it’s been since we created it in junior high. “Did you actually have someone in mind?”

Charlotte steps forward, close enough that I can smell her Chanel Chance. “Laurel.”

I burst out laughing. Laurel playing buddy-buddy with my friends is one thing, but joining the Lying Game? Never. “Good one, guys. Nice. Laurel. Right.” I shake my head. “Can we talk tomorrow? I’m tired.” I reach an impatient arm out to the doorknob.

But Mads and Char don’t budge. Their expressions are resolute, unchanging. Slowly, it sinks in. “Wait, you’re serious?” I blurt, my voice cracking more than I want it to.

Madeline twirls a lock of ebony hair around her index finger. “We think she’d be an asset to the group. And have a heart, Sutton—she’s beside herself about Thayer. We should do something nice for her, don’t you think?”

I want to roll my eyes. Once again, Laurel gets to milk this whole “Thayer’s gone” thing to the hilt while I have to endure the pain quietly. “Do something nice, yes,” I argue. “But not ruin our club to let her in.”

“We wouldn’t be ruining anything,” Madeline says. “And anyway, Laurel has proven herself. She helped with that Christmas prank, remember?”

I stare at them in disbelief. “Yeah, because that was my Christmas present to her. It wasn’t an invitation to the group.” Laurel had been begging to be part of the Lying Game practically since its inception, and I’d finally thrown her a bone and let her help us steal the Christmas tree from La Encantada Mall. It wasn’t even a particularly good prank, but Laurel acted like it was the cleverest thing in the world.

Then I turn toward Charlotte, realizing something. “Is this your way of getting back at me for going out with Garrett tonight? You said you were okay with it.”

Charlotte shrugs and turns away, her auburn ponytail smacking her in the face. All of a sudden, I can see she’s totally not okay.

“Look, I’m sorry,” I say. “But that doesn’t make it okay to let Laurel in.”

“She’s being a really good friend right now,” Charlotte says simply.

She doesn’t elaborate. It seems that, in what she’s left out, she’s implying I’ve been a bad friend. I consider protesting about Garrett once more, but I’m not sure there’s much use.

Then I whirl toward Madeline. “And why would you be mad at me?”

Mads just stares at me and suddenly my palms begin to tingle. What if she knows I spoke to Thayer during the search party . . . but didn’t bother to mention that he was okay? The only way she could know that, though, is if Thayer called and told her himself. But why would he sell me out that way?

“I’m not mad at you, Sutton,” Madeline says in a clipped voice after a moment. “Like I said, I just think Laurel would be a good asset to the club.”

“Well, I don’t,” I say. “And as the Lying Game leader, what I say goes.”

Madeline raises a finger. “Not this time. I’m invoking the Sudden Death Clause.”

I cough. “Pardon?”

“The rule we set up for testing new members. The member who opposes the proposed new initiate has to go head-to-head with her in a series of dares. If you win, Laurel’s out. But if Laurel wins, she’s officially a part of the Lying Game. For good.”

A siren shrieks in the distance. The neighbors’ sprinklers kick on with a steady hissing sound. “That’s not in the rules,” I say in disbelief.

“Oh yeah?” Madeline cocks her hip again, then pushes open my front door. “Let’s go have a look at the handbook.”

I shove past her and sweep inside. “Great. Let’s.”

I lead them inside and up the wide-planked staircase to my bedroom. As I slam the door, I catch sight of the Scooby-Doo stuffed animal Thayer won for me at the fair last year propped up on my bed. I get a pang, remembering the day it happened, but then I push it down deep. I had a great date with Garrett tonight . . . and Thayer’s with someone named Mary. Maybe we’re both moving on.

I pull the handbook from a locked drawer in my desk. It’s an oversized scrapbook filled with scribbled notes, clips from any news mentions of successful pranks, receipts, props . . . basically a Lying Game Greatest Hits and how-to collection. The back pages of the book are computer printouts of our rules and minutes. Some pages are wrinkled and stained with age, like the ones detailing the original rules, but as I flip through, newer pages show clauses we’ve added over the years: like not messing with anything super-valuable, for one, like Char’s dad’s Ferrari, or not pranking on birthdays. I still have to fight back the urge each time one rolls around.

On the very bottom of the very last page, I find it: scrawled in red ink in Charlotte’s handwriting, almost like an afterthought, is the Sudden Death Clause. And it reads exactly like Madeline said it did, word for word.

“I don’t remember this at all,” I say, suspicion bubbling inside me. “When did you write this?”

“I don’t remember,” Charlotte answers. She points at the book. “But since it’s there, it’s gospel.”

It seems like they’re trying to hold in a giggle. My stomach lurches. There’s no way the Sudden Death Clause is legit. My friends wrote it here when I wasn’t looking—or maybe wasn’t around. Perhaps they were in the house with Laurel earlier tonight while I was out, and they hatched this plan then. I can just picture them sitting around Laurel’s room, giggling about their brand-new Sudden Death Rule, Charlotte running in here and writing it into the book as quickly as she could. Who knew how they got my lockbox open, but Laurel probably had a solution for that; I’ve caught her snooping around my room hundreds of times.

I clench my hands into tight fists. I’ve never felt so betrayed. Mads and Char are supposed to be my best friends, not Laurel’s. Do they now prefer her, too, just like everyone else does?

Suddenly, tears rush to my eyes, and I have to blink to hold them back. Madeline glances at Charlotte, giving her a worried look, almost like she realizes they’ve gone too far. But the last thing I want is for my friends to see me crying—or to know they’ve hurt me. It’s kind of like how I handled Thayer: be strong, carry on, move on. Thayer can’t bring me down, and they can’t, either.

I straighten up. I’ll honor this stupid Sudden Death Clause—if I don’t, I’ll look like a wuss and a coward. And I’ll win. There’s no way I’m going to let my baby sister beat me.

“Get Laurel,” I growl.

Madeline scampers from the bed, knocking Scooby to the floor in the process. I hear a knock at Laurel’s bedroom door, and then a split second later, my sister appears in my doorway, her honey-blonde hair perfectly straightened and her eyes bright with expertly applied makeup. It’s like she did herself up knowing this moment was coming. Once again, I feel a bolt of betrayal, as sharp and acidic as lemon juice in a wound.

She looks at me cautiously for a moment. I give her a steely stare. “I’ve decided to indulge your silly little whim,” I say primly. “We’ll go head-to-head on some challenges, even though it’s a really stupid idea. You’re going to lose.”

“Yes!” Laurel chirps. She turns to Mads and Char. “So what’s our first challenge? Something in town? Something at school?”

Charlotte laughs. “Oh, we’re not doing this in Tucson,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “As Sutton always says, the Lying Game has standards. Sudden Death is not just an ordinary prank war.”

“So what are you saying?” I ask impatiently. Personally, I would like Sudden Death to be ordinary. The sooner we get this ridiculousness over with—and the sooner Laurel is ousted from the Lying Game, once and for all—the better.

Charlotte grins knowingly. “I think we all need a change of scenery.”

I consider this. “Road trip?”

There’s a wicked twinkle in her brown eyes. “We’re going to Vegas!”

Vegas. An image of the glittering lights of the Strip pops up in my mind involuntarily and I feel a ping of excitement in spite of myself. “That has . . . potential.”

“Right?” Charlotte jiggles up and down excitedly. “It’s the best timing ever, with school ending. Mads and I told our parents that we were going to cheer on the science team at their meet, which just happens to be taking place there this weekend.”

I raise an eyebrow. “We don’t have any friends on the science team.”

“Uh, we know,” Charlotte says. “That’s the point.”

I glance at Madeline. “What about Thayer? Don’t you want to stay here and look for him?”

Madeline shrugs and stares at the carpet. “It’s not going to do any good—it’s not like he’s hanging around Tucson. I know my brother, and he won’t come back until he’s good and ready. Besides, my dad . . .” She trails off, scrunching up her face. It’s obvious what she isn’t saying. Her dad’s temper is getting out of control. Mads probably needs the time away.

A bolt of sympathy cuts through all my frustration and betrayal. A small smile creeps across my face as I warm to the idea. “All right. I’m game.”

“Nice,” Charlotte whispers.

Madeline looks at Laurel. “I told you she’d be into it.”

I’m not thrilled about Mads and Laurel’s private little talks about me, but I try not to think about it. Instead, I see myself escaping Tucson for a while. Wearing a gorgeous gown, playing the slots, drinking martinis on a rooftop bar, hanging poolside in a bikini.
Eat your heart out, Thayer,
I think. If he wants space, I’ll give him space.

“The Lying Game: Las Vegas.” I reach out to Laurel and shake her hand firmly. “May the best woman win, Baby Sister,” I say, flashing her my most brilliant smile. But inside, I’ve got my game face on.
Get ready to go down, Laurel,
I think fiercely.
By the time this is over, you’ll be sorry you ever asked to be part of this club.