Liar Liar Read Online Free PDF Page B

frowned at me. “Where’s your tennis racket?”
    I started jogging to the back doors. “Steve Franklin said he’d bring an extra one for me. I left mine at home this morning.”
    â€œWhere are you really going?” Cindy called after me. “Why don’t you tell me the truth?”
    â€œIt’s true!” I shouted. I trotted out of the school building and hurried across the playground to the tennis courts.
    I heard the thock thock thock of rackets hitting tennis balls. Guys on the team were already warming up.
    I searched the long row of courts for Steve Franklin. He had a bucket of balls and was hitting one after another, practicing his serve.
    I started jogging over to him to get the racket he’d promised to bring. But Coach Melvin blocked my way. “Ross, you’re ten minutes late. We really need you here on time. You missed the whole warm-up.”
    â€œSorry, Coach,” I said. “I … uh … had a really bad nosebleed.”
    He squinted at my nose. “You okay now?”
    I nodded.
    â€œWell, go warm up. Practice your serves, okay? Take the court next to Steve.”
    I took a basket of tennis balls and trotted over to Steve. He stopped serving and tossed me an old racket of his. “What’s up, Ross?” he asked.
    I swung the racket hard a few times to get the feel of it.
    â€œI’m thinking of quitting the team,” I said. “I might go pro.”
    Steve laughed. “Yeah. Me, too.”
    â€œNot a bad racket,” I said, twirling it in my palm. “Not a good racket. But not a bad racket.”
    â€œYou want to come over and practice some time this weekend?” Steve asked. “My dad built a new court in our backyard. It’s clay. Very sweet.”
    â€œCool,” I said. I dragged the bucket of balls over to the next court and started practicing my serve. The first three flew into the net.
    I turned and saw Coach Melvin frowning at me from the next court.
    â€œJust testing the racket,” I called to him.
    I served a few more. My arm felt stiff. I hadn’t practiced in a while.
    Down the long row of courts, guys were volleying back and forth. The afternoon sun suddenly appeared from behind a high cloud. The bright light swept over me.
    I shielded my eyes with one hand—and saw him.
    Squinting into the sunlight, I saw the boy—me!—my twin. He was six or seven courts down, at the far end.
    He was volleying with Jared Harris. He was dressed in the same tennis whites I wore. His dark hair flew up as he ran to the net.
    He looked just like me!
    The racket fell out of my hand and bounced in front of me.
    â€œHey!” I shouted. I waved frantically.
    He didn’t hear me. He returned a serve from Jared, then ran to the corner to return Jared’s shot.
    â€œHey—you!” I cried. “Wait!”
    My heart pounded. I squinted hard, trying to block out the bright sunlight. Trying to make sure I wasn’t seeing things.
    No. It was me.
    It was my exact double on that court.
    And suddenly he turned—and saw me.
    I saw his eyes go wide. I saw his expression change. He recognized me.
    For a long moment we stared at each other down the long row of tennis courts.
    And then his mouth formed the words … the same words they had formed underwater in Max’s pool: Go away.
    Even from so far away, I could see the angry scowl on his face. Cold … his glare was so cold.
    â€œGO AWAY!” he repeated.
    â€œNo!” I screamed. “No!”
    I started to run, shouting and waving my arms wildly.
    I got about two steps and tripped over the racket I had dropped.
    The racket slid under my feet. I fell onto my stomach and bounced hard over the asphalt.
    â€œOwww!”
    Ignoring the pain, I scrambled to my feet. Lurched a few steps toward the far court—and stopped.
    The boy—my twin—was gone. Vanished again.
    I stared into the light. Jared had his back