A Lie for a Lie
Page 13
“But the funny thing is,” she said, “that’s kind of true. I was totally energized when I was with him. But I never felt it going the other way—like he was feeding off my energy.”
I gasped. “Me too. With Will, I mean.”
When it was quiet, I said, “But not with Bo. I’m myself with Bo.”
* * *
The next morning I woke early. The Costellos’ kitchen smelled of fresh coffee, and I could see that Mrs. C. had left for work already. I grabbed a mug and sat on the front stoop.
I had an odd feeling as I looked over at my house, like it belonged to someone else. When I was young and I was over here and I’d hear my parents on the screened porch having drinks and laughing, I’d think how it was sad that the Costellos weren’t part of their group. I’d feel sorry for Jenn and Bo’s parents. Especially after their divorce.
I’m ashamed to admit it now, but I felt better than them.
Behind me I could hear Jenn making breakfast noises. “I’m bringing out a refill and an epic coffee cake,” she said.
“Good idea,” I said. I swallowed my last sip and set the mug on the stoop.
The door opened, and as soon as she sat down, I started in with the panicky feelings. “I don’t want to deal with it. I just want to stay here and pretend they don’t exist.”
“You were going to stop doing that, remember?” she said.
I gave her a look. “I’ve got every reason to panic,” I said.
“And you have every reason not to.” She broke off a couple of pieces of coffee cake and gave me one. “You know how to deal with your anxiety now, and you’ll be moving out and going to college. But how’s Jilly going to deal with all this?”
I wondered. What about Jilly? Before I could answer, Bo texted me from the kitchen.
Bo: I miss you.
Me: I miss you, too xo
Bo: Can we go somewhere and be alone? I heard what happened and I want to make sure you’re okay.
Jenn leaned back and hollered through the screen door, “If that’s my brother, tell him he can have you to himself in ten minutes.” She hovered close while I texted and pretend-groaned like she was disgusted with us, but I could tell she thought it was sweet.
Me: I’ll be okay as soon as I’m with you ☺
Bo: Living room in ten?
Me: Living room. I’ve got cake.
Jenn stood up and sighed. “You guys are over the top. Cute, but over the top.”
CHAPTER 22
You think a lie is a single thing that you do, but it’s alive, and before you know it, that lie is in charge. When I took that first snapshot of my dad and Gail, it changed everything. It changed me.
Two months ago, I was the girl who used to divide life into before the boat accident and after the boat accident. Now I’m a quasi-Buddist. Staying in the moment keeps me from looking at things before or after the affair. It’s hard not to fall back into the habit of sorting events into categories and catastrophes.
A counselor helped me learn that a feeling is just a feeling and I don’t have to react to everything. How it works is I try to let things pass through me instead of letting things stay inside me and turn to anxiety. I’ve been doing a lot of feeling exercises lately. Saying things like “Hey, Anger and Resentment, I see how you’re here, and now you can move on.”
It sounds silly, but it’s helping.
It’s not that being mad about what Mom and Dad did is a bad thing. I should be pissed, but it shouldn’t turn me into Angry Girl, like it’s my superpower. And now that I get that, I know I was wrong about one thing.
I told them—yelled at them—that our family had never been right, that it had been a lie. Now, two months later, it’s come to me how many things were right about my family.
Like love. As bad as the secret was, there was always love in the family. Sometimes it felt strict, like making me stay home when I was overtired, or hard, like when Dad and I would work through an anxiety attack. But usually it was laughing together at the dinner table or sitting quietly and sharing the paper on Sunday.
And now there’s Bo. When I’m with him I have no secrets to keep, there are no lies holding me hostage, and we tell each other everything without censoring it.
Since that big talk in the kitchen, when I learned the truth, I’ve been slowly moving toward forgiveness. When I’ll actually get there, I don’t know, but I think Jilly will have something to do with it.
At first she and I were pretty formal around each other. We had a meeting with all of us together at the table, like one of those parent-teacher meetings where everyone is on their best behavior. Jilly was so fidgety that I thought someone was going to say something, but the adults didn’t notice; they were focusing on each other.
When I saw her staring at my camera, I whispered, “Do you want to see some pictures?” They were her soccer pictures. The only ones I’d saved.
She jumped up and we went onto the screened porch and looked at the photos of her making goals and dribbling down the field.
Now we see each other a few times a week. I’ve shown her how to use my camera, and she’s teaching me how to play soccer and the violin. I can do no wrong in her eyes.
I’m her cool big sister.
And being her older sister makes me want to be better than cool. I want to be stronger.
I’m getting there, and Bo is making it easy and fun. He’s helping me replace my frightening boat memories with happy ones. It started when we took his boat out in the cove, at first staying close to shore in case I was scared, but each time we went out it got easier, and soon I was driving. The last time we went out, we made it around Beach Rose Island to the open ocean, the late-day sunlight putting our island in silhouette. I couldn’t remember seeing the back side of the island before, and now I’d captained the boat there! I was still realizing what I’d just done when Bo took the wheel and handed me my camera. I’d forgotten to take a picture.
He was right. It was a snapshot moment.
Click.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks go to:
My editor, Christy Ottaviano at Henry Holt, whose keen eye and insightful remarks were the right combination of questions, comments, and adorable stickers. Thank you for helping me shape Kendra’s story.
My agent, Wendy Schmalz, who found this story the perfect home. I am forever grateful for your guidance.
My PW’s, who saw the many incarnations of A Lie for a Lie. Your friendship and encouragement are invaluable. Argh, mateys!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Robin Merrow MacCready is the author of the Edgar Award–winning YA novel Buried. She lives in midcoast Maine, where she teaches and writes. Robin lives with her husband, two boys, and numerous pets. You can find out more at robinmerrowmaccready.com, or sign up for email updates here.
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CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Notice
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Copyright
Copyright �
� 2017 by Robin MacCready
Henry Holt and Company
Publishers since 1866
Henry Holt® is a registered trademark of Macmillan Publishing Group, LLC.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: MacCready, Robin Merrow, author.
Title: A lie for a lie / Robin Merrow MacCready.
Description: First edition. | New York: Henry Holt and Company, 2017. | “Christy Ottaviano Books.” | Summary: “A gripping mystery about seventeen-year-old Kendra, an amateur photographer who discovers her father is leading a double life”—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016008983 (print) | LCCN 2016035847 (ebook) | ISBN 9780805091090 (hardback) | ISBN 9781250109682 (Ebook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Secrets—Fiction. | Fathers and daughters—Fiction. | Family life—Fiction.
Classification: LCC PZ7.M1118513 Li 2017 (print) | LCC PZ7.M1118513 (ebook) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2016008983
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First hardcover edition 2017
eBook edition February 2017
eISBN 9781250109682