by Sarah Lyu
Mom freezes when she spots her. She sets down her bag and slips off her shoes, and without a word, she makes her way over to Lola and lifts a tentative hand before petting her.
I’m ready with arguments but she begins to speak and they never make it out of my throat.
“We had a cat once,” she says, surprising me. “When I was six. Princess Georgina, we called her. Just George for short.” Over the years, Christian and I have gotten every excuse under the sun for why we weren’t allowed to have pets. A spark of anger pulses through me, but before I get a chance to call her out on her hypocrisy, she sheds a tear.
“I loved George so much. Some of my earliest memories were of that silly cat,” she says now, leaving me in a stunned silence. “But when I was twelve or thirteen, she got sick, really, really sick. She passed away within a year, and I—” Her eyes widen with realization.
“What?” I ask.
“She passed away within a year and I never wanted to feel like that again. We never got another cat, and I guess somewhere along the way, never getting another pet became a self-imposed rule and I stopped wondering why.” Another tear rolled down her cheek as she sat on the floor next to Lola, who lets Mom gather her into her arms.
70.
Dad comes by later in the afternoon with some movers. I’d almost forgotten his promise. Mom doesn’t come out of her office, so she must know.
I watch them dismantle my bed and pack it away, and I still can’t believe it’s happening.
“By the way,” I tell Dad, “we have a dog now.”
He raises a single eyebrow. “I noticed.” We share a small smile. When everything is packed up, Mom comes out of the office. They exchange a few words. Dad tells her when to expect the divorce papers. They’re subdued, polite even. It feels like the end of an era.
Not long ago, Mom was anger and Dad was exasperation. These were roles they’d played for years. That was the only story they wanted to tell.
Now she is sorrow and he is regret. They are no longer a powder keg about to explode now that they’re separating. For the first time, I wonder what role I’ve played all these years, what story I’ve been telling myself.
That I’ve been nothing but a pawn in their games.
That they love me only for what I am to them, what I could be to them.
That love is the weapon they wield, the justification for everything they do.
That love is a weapon, period.
And for the first time, I am asking myself if it has to be this way. For the first time, I am asking myself if there’s another story I want to tell.
Trauma has a gravity of its own, and I am forever trapped in its orbit. Try too hard to escape and it’ll tear your whole life apart.
That’s the story I’ve been telling, but maybe I’m only half-right.
Trauma has a gravity of its own, a force you can feel but not see. But it’s not a black hole. It’s not a large, looming celestial body. I am not trapped in any orbit but my own, and all my past mistakes and bad memories are moons that circle me, captured in my orbit. I feel their pull the way the tides do—high, then low. Up, then down. But in the end, I am the one keeping them close wherever I go. I am the one tugging them gently along.
I think about the lies Elise has told me, the ones I was desperate to believe. They were such beautiful lies. The best lies. But now I am ready for the truth.
My wounds don’t make me special. What doesn’t kill me won’t make me stronger. Pain has no lesson to teach, suffering serves no purpose. I am not a tragic heroine trudging down some predetermined path set for me by someone else. I don’t have to be a casualty of my parents’ actions, of my past misfortunes. I don’t have to become my parents, I don’t have to play out their stories.
I can cut the tether, leave the past to disappear into the vast darkness of space.
I can tell another story.
SATURDAY // SEPTEMBER 9 // DAY 365
71.
My stomach clenches in fear as I walk into the interrogation room again. Vera has struck a deal with the DA: In exchange for my testimony and cooperation, I won’t be charged.
The camera’s aimed at me and it feels eerily familiar, with Detective Ward across the table, Vera on my left. The red light blinks, but this time I’m not holding my breath, waiting for a bomb to detonate.
Tell me something true, Jack used to say to me, and it was one of my favorite things about him. Remembering it now grounds me, holds me up.
Here, for the last time, is the truth in all its awful entirety.
The truth about the night Jack died, the truth about everything leading up to that night and everything after it.
“State your name, please,” Detective Ward says. The room doesn’t feel like it’s closing in—the light isn’t too bright, and I’m not struggling to breathe. For once, the room is just a room.
“My name is Katherine Remy Tsai, but everyone calls me Remy,” I say.
“Okay, Remy,” Detective Ward says. “Can you tell me what happened?”
I nod.
“Go ahead,” she says, her voice gentle.
I take a deep breath and begin again.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I am so grateful to everyone who helped make my wildest dreams a reality.
To my agent, Kerry Sparks, who read the very first draft and believed in Remy’s story from the start. You are a tireless champion, and I am so lucky to have you in my corner.
To my editor and fellow Batman aficionado, Liesa Abrams: I knew I was in good hands from our first phone call. Thank you for sharing my vision and for your faith that we would get there. This book truly wouldn’t be the same without you. Special thanks, also, to Jessi Smith, whose perceptive insights helped strengthen this story.
To Mara Anastas and the entire S&S team: Thank you so much for all you do. I know it takes a village, and this book was raised by the very best one.
This story has also benefited from the advice of so many, but particularly Natasha Razi, Shannon O’Guin, and RuthAnne Snow.
I’ve been fortunate to have many wonderful teachers and mentors, but two stand out: Liz Van Doren and Jane O’Connor. Thank you for teaching me so much about books and life.
To friends near and far who always lift me up: Amanda Yao, D.S., Katarzyna Pie˛kos´, Amy Oliver, Jean Mone, A.C. Leath, Kristin Lambert, Jennifer Fan, Alysia Campbell, Beth Branch, Anna Birch, and Tia Bearden. Jen, Anna, and Kristin also read drafts at various stages, and their enthusiasm was invaluable.
To my parents, who fretted over my decision to major in English but let me do it anyway—thank you for keeping the faith. And of course, shout-out to my brother, Tyler, who has always been proud of me. I’m proud of you, too.
To my family, who supports me in everything I do. Naga, the best dog in the world, who stayed up with me through every single late night. And my husband, Gene, whose contribution to this book is immeasurable. Thank you for reading a million drafts and always taking the time to listen to me talk out story ideas. I love you.
And finally to you, the reader: Thank you for taking this journey with me.
RESOURCES
Child Abuse
Childhelp
Phone: 480-922-8212
National hotline (available 24/7): 1-800-422-4453
http://www.childhelp.org/
Organizations related to child welfare, including a list of child abuse reporting numbers by state and a list of toll-free crisis hotline numbers: https://www.childwelfare.gov/organizations/
Survivors
Adult Survivors of Child Abuse
Phone: 415-928-4576
Email: [email protected]
http://www.ascasupport.org/
Adult Children of Alcoholics/Dysfunctional Families
Phone: 310-534-1815
[email protected]
https://www.adultchildren.org/
National Suicide Prevention Lifeline
1-800-273-8255
https://www.suicidepre
ventionlifeline.org/
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photograph by Anna Shih
Sarah Lyu grew up outside of Atlanta, Georgia, and graduated from the University of Pennsylvania. She currenty resides in Birmingham, Alabama, with her family. She loves a good hike but can often be found with a book on her lap and sweet tea in hand. The Best Lies is her first book. You can visit her at sarahlyu.com.
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This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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First Simon Pulse hardcover edition July 2019
Text copyright © 2019 by Sarah Lyu
Jacket photograph copyright © 2019 by Jonathon Kambouris/Gallery Stock
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Lyu, Sarah, author. | Title: The best lies / by Sarah Lyu.
Description: First Simon Pulse hardcover edition. | New York : Simon Pulse, 2019. | Summary: Told in alternating timelines, seventeen-year-old Remy Tsai’s boyfriend, Jack, is shot by her best friend, Elise, and while police investigate, Remy probes her memories for the truth of their friendship. |
Identifiers: LCCN 2018037017 (print) | LCCN 2018043026 (eBook) | ISBN 9781481498838 (hardcover) | ISBN 9781481498852 (eBook)
Subjects: | CYAC: Murder—Fiction. | Best friends—Fiction. | Friendship—Fiction. | Dating (Social customs)—Fiction. | Family problems—Fiction. | Honesty—Fiction. | Mystery and detective stories.
Classification: LCC PZ7.1.L99 (eBook) | LCC PZ7.1.L99 Bes 2019 (print) | DDC [Fic]—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2018037017