Lie to Me

by Kaitlin Ward

  “You know, I’m not going to make this easy,” I say, even though I’m not sure my limbs can move.

  He doesn’t even respond. Simply meanders closer. So casual. “This part is new to me. The part where I can see the fear in your eyes. The others never saw me coming.”

  “And does the fear make it better or worse?”

  If I can keep him talking, maybe, maybe, help will come in time.

  He grins slowly, and I can’t stand how handsome he looks while he’s being such a monster. So compelling and repulsive at once. So easily able to slide into the regular world like he isn’t hiding a blood-smeared soul.

  “You weren’t so clever as you think, you know,” I say, because suddenly I want to make him angry. I want to see him react to something like a normal person would. Like I would have thought he would, before today. “Just because I didn’t tell anyone doesn’t mean I didn’t figure it out.”

  There it is. The smallest flash, but it’s definitely anger in his eyes.

  “And you know what? Other people are going to figure it out, too.”

  He reaches me in two strides. “Too bad for you, you won’t be around to see it.”

  I duck under his arm, and I’ve reached the door before he realizes it. I throw it open and bolt outside. I sprint down the path we drove up, but I stay near the side in case he gets in his car. It’s slippery—brutal early winter ice hidden under the thin layer of snow. Treacherous. But if I don’t run, I’m dead. So I keep going. He’s catching up to me, though. I’m fast, but he’s faster.

  Right as he’s about to catch me, I make a bold move. Let my foot slip on the ice, fall hard on my back. My head slams against the ground, my glasses skitter away, and black spots swim across my vision. Liam skids to a halt, but he slips, too.

  I flip over and try to crawl to my feet, but he grabs onto my foot, yanking me toward him. I kick out with my other foot, and it connects with his face. Hard enough that he calls me a terrible name but not hard enough to do any real damage. I grasp desperately for anything that could help me—a stick, a rock, anything—but he has both my feet in his grip now and he’s dragging me toward the middle of the road, away from anything I can use.

  “This was fun,” he snarls. “But it’s over now.”

  When I try to writhe out of his grip, he punches me hard in the ribs. My body curls involuntarily, like a pill bug playing dead. And before I can do anything else, I’m pinned to the ground with a knife pressed against my throat.

  I have never held so utterly still.

  He smiles, so broadly. And then, the sound of tires squealing.

  Liam looks up. His weight shifts, and I take my chance. Pull my knee up as hard as I can into his crotch.

  It works, at least well enough for me to get free. The sounds of an approaching vehicle get louder, but I don’t have time to wait and be rescued. I grab a big tree branch, and I swing. It cracks against Liam’s side, but he’s wild now, desperate. He slices a deep gash in my arm with his knife and gets hold of the end of my branch. He shoves it hard into my stomach, sending pain ratcheting through my already injured ribs, but I don’t let go. I can’t.

  A truck appears then and slams into Liam. He flies up over the hood, falls off the back of the vehicle, and lies still in the road.

  It’s Sky in her dad’s truck.

  She leaps out of the driver’s seat, a lacrosse stick in one hand, and looms cautiously over Liam’s still form. I join her, even more cautiously.

  “Is he dead?” I whisper.

  “No, definitely not.” Sky prods him with the lacrosse stick. “But he’s unconscious. Hang on, I’m pretty sure Dad keeps duct tape in here. We’ll make sure he can’t move if he wakes up.”

  She hands me the lacrosse stick and I hold it in both hands, shivering, my head spinning, while Sky hauls herself into the bed of the truck and opens the toolbox. She’s so calm while she wraps Liam’s arms and legs in layer upon layer of duct tape. It makes me even less calm, somehow.

  When she’s done, I collapse onto the ground and start to cry.

  Sky sits beside me but doesn’t touch me. “Are you hurt?”

  “I don’t know,” I manage between gasping sobs. “I think a little.”

  She rests a hand on my back, firm and anchoring. “The police are on their way. Probably an ambulance, too. And your parents are coming home from the wedding. Everything’s okay now. Everything is going to be fine.”

  “How are you so calm?” I scream it, because I’ve never been further from calm.

  “I’m not.” Her voice has an edge for the first time. “Amelia, I just watched you nearly killed and I’m— I don’t know what to say or what to do, I just—”

  I hug her tight and cry even harder.

  “Grace called me,” she says, answering the question I don’t have the breath to ask. “After she called the police. She was terrified they wouldn’t get to you in time, because they had to come get her phone to use the tracking app. I think she hoped my parents or your parents could do something, but they’re all headed to that stupid wedding.” Her arm tightens, just slightly. “And when she said that you told her you’d be at Liam’s camp … well, I knew where that was, so I decided to do something about it. It was stupid, coming up here all by myself. Such a terrible, terrible idea. But I’m glad I did. Hunter’s headed to the dam; he thought the text you sent Grace was probably from Liam, to throw us off, and that he took you to the dam instead of here. I should text Hunter, right? So he knows you’re alive and okay.”

  “Yeah, you should text him.”

  She doesn’t make a move for her phone yet. “You tried to tell us you were worried about him, didn’t you? The other night when you came to apologize.”

  I nod.

  “I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I should have done all of this better. I’m just— I did abandon you a little bit, and I was ashamed of that, so I didn’t handle it very well.”

  “Stop,” I say weakly. “I handled it all wrong, too. I love you and I’m sorry.”

  “I love you and I’m sorry, too.”

  I wipe fiercely at my eyes and look up at her. “I would have died, Skylar. The only reason I’m not dead right now is that he got distracted when he heard the sound of your dad’s truck. You saved my life.”

  Her eyes are filled with tears now, which her rapid blinking doesn’t begin to hide. I bury my face in her clavicle again, and she rests her chin on my head.

  “He can’t hurt you now,” she says, and in the background I hear the faint sound of sirens. “He will never hurt you again.”

  I do not like the hospital. It doesn’t matter how many McFlurries and fries Aunt Jenna sneaks in for me, nor how much extra attention I get because she works here; it doesn’t make it any better. I have broken ribs and stitches in my arm, neither of which are worthy of an overnight stay. But there’s also the concussion, which they’re worried about because of my barely healed previous concussion, so I’m here for three days while they monitor me. It’s better to be safe—I know that. But all I want is to go home. I’ve spent way too much time in this hospital already, and if I never see it again it’ll be too soon.

  I’ve seen nearly everyone. My parents drove home from Massachusetts so fast, they’re lucky they didn’t get arrested. Hunter and Sky have barely left my room. Sky’s parents have come, and Tera and her mom, and Roman and his parents. My grandparents. Detective Cheney. Almost everyone I could possibly want to see, and then some.

  And then, after school on Monday, Grace visits. Roman drives her, but he and Tera disappear to the hospital cafeteria the second they arrive.

  “Sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Grace says, pacing slowly next to my bed. “I was … scared to see you.”

  “Why?”

  She shrugs sheepishly. Gestures to my bandaged arm. “I felt … I didn’t like the idea of you hurt again, of you almost dying again. You look okay, though.” She pauses, smiling apologetically as though she realizes how uncomplimentary that is. �
��You look good.”

  “Thanks.” I nestle deeper into my pillow. “I should not have put you in the position I did without telling you I was suspicious of Liam. I didn’t think about how much danger I was getting into, and how much responsibility I was putting on you. I thought I could manipulate him more than he manipulated me. Why did I think that?”

  “It’s okay.” She sits on a stool next to the bed, reaches for my hand. “You’re alive and relatively well, and he’s behind bars. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea. Probably it wasn’t. But it doesn’t matter now. All that matters is how it turned out.”

  “Are you trying to tell me the ends justify the means?”

  She laughs. “That’s a dangerous assertion. Next time, why don’t you go ahead and not attempt vigilante justice.”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “I think that’s best. I don’t seem cut out for it. Without Sky …” I shudder. “I’m really, really glad you called her.”

  “Me too.” She frowns. “But wow, you small-town people are impulsive.”

  “It may not be impulsiveness so much as it is an arrogant belief that we can take care of ourselves no matter what.” Her hand’s still around mine, and I squeeze her fingers. “I should have— Even during the parts where I thought Liam was a great boyfriend, I shouldn’t have been with him.”

  She swallows audibly. “Then why were you?”

  “I was scared.” It’s harder to admit than I thought it would be. “I didn’t want to lose you as a friend if things … you know.”

  “Worst-case planning. Very practical.”

  “Practical, yeah. But also kind of stupid.”

  “I don’t know. That day when you told me how you felt, I could have chased you down. I think maybe that would have been all the difference. Would’ve stopped you dating a serial killer, at least. I hope.”

  “Well, I guess dated a serial killer is a more interesting legacy than accidentally fell off a cliff, right? Even if it makes me feel like a complete moron in retrospect.” I grin at her, and she grins back. I try to move closer to the edge of the bed, but my ribs absolutely kill, and my smile turns into a grimace.

  “Don’t,” she says. She reaches out a hand to stop me trying to move, and I pretty much don’t even breathe. She sits carefully on the side of the hospital bed. Brushes hair away from my face. “So, what are you thinking … practical, or impractical?”

  “My breath is kind of terrible,” I say, because now that she’s so near me, I’m pretty nervous.

  “I don’t care.” There’s laughter in her voice. Her mouth is so near mine.

  “Impractical,” I whisper, and she kisses me.

  I know at once that it’s the right thing. My life is messy, and there are some hard things ahead. I’m going to have to testify against Liam when his case goes to trial. I’ll have to face whatever punishment I get from Mom and Dad, and I’ll have to deal with the memories of what happened for the rest of my life.

  But it’s okay, because I’m alive, and Liam can’t hurt me or anyone else ever again. He’ll be locked away till the day he dies. I have the best family and friends, and I have Grace.

  I’m going to be just fine.

  I am so grateful to my editor, Amanda Maciel, for her wisdom and guidance through our third(!) book together. Also to Talia Seidenfeld and everyone else at Scholastic who has helped work on this book. It takes a lot to get a novel from a rough draft manuscript to a finished product, and I’m so appreciative of the help I’ve received through every step.

  My agent, Sarah LaPolla, has been right there with me through pretty much all the ups and downs I’ve had in this career. I would most definitely not be where I am today without her.

  There’s no better support system when you’re writing a book than other authors. I’m particularly grateful to Somaiya Daud, Laurie Devore, Maurene Goo, Kate Hart, Michelle Krys, Amy Lukavics, Veronica Roth, Michelle Schusterman, Courtney Summers, and Kara Thomas for all their help and cheering on while I worked on this book.

  I would be remiss if I didn’t mention my coworkers at Pete and Gerry’s, especially my T2 companions, and especially especially, Heather Cheney. I couldn’t ask for anyone better to share an office with than Heather, who listens to all my opinions (of which I have many) and has somehow not gotten bored of me yet.

  My family has been supportive since the beginning. My parents, Denis and Jeanne Ward. My sister, Jackie Ward. Tyler, Abel, and Quinn Gaouette. Elaine Millett. Andrea, Roger, and Maren Marecaux. My husband, Brandon Millett, and my son, Michael.

  And as ever, I am grateful to readers. Without you, I wouldn’t get to do this dream job. Thank you so much for reading my stories.

  Kaitlin Ward is the author of the YA novels Where She Fell, Girl in a Bad Place, and Bleeding Earth. She grew up on a dairy farm in a tiny New Hampshire town, the same town where she lives now with her husband and son. Find her on Twitter at @Kaitlin_Ward.

  Copyright © 2019 by Kaitlin Ward

  Photos ©: cover girl: Michael Frost; cover water: Jovana Rikalo/Stocksy; interior water: Michael Frost; interior emoticons throughout: Iefym Turkin/iStockphoto.

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

  First edition, January 2020

  Cover photograph by Michael Frost, © 2019 Scholastic Inc. • Cover photo ©: water: Jovana Rikalo/Stocksy.

  Cover design by Yaffa Jaskoll and Maeve Norton

  e-ISBN 978-1-338-53817-5

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