Lies My Girlfriend Told Me Read Online Free PDF

“Sorry about that.”
    Genjko’s anger is palpable. He rarely leaves his room, so I’m sure he’s being coerced to go on this trip.
    “Take whatever’s yours and I’ll donate the rest to Goodwill,” Jewell says to me.
    “No!” Joss cries, dumping her backpack on the pile of luggage. “Everything she has belongs to me.”
    Jewell says coolly to Joss, “What makes you think that?”
    “She was my sister.” Joss’s voice trembles.
    “We don’t need bad karma in this house,” Jewell replies. “Right, Genjko?”
    He storms out the door. I wonder how he feels about Swanee’s death. Or about anything at all.
    Joss pushes past me and slams out after him.
    “There’s a set of keys under the ceramic frog on the front porch,” Jewell tells me. “Just lock up on your way out.”
    I stand and watch until they drive away. The heater cranks off with a hiss, jarring me out of my stupor.
    My footsteps creak as I walk down the hallway. Swanee’s door is closed, the same way I left it. I brought an empty backpack, and as I begin to slog through the flotsam and jetsam of Swanee’s life, I notice there’s more of me here than I thought. Swan borrowed a pair of sweats and jeans and two long-sleeved thermal shirts. A lot of the button jewelry I made her is strewn haphazardly across the floor, along with library books that will eventually be overdue.
    My knees go weak and I have to sit. Then lie down. I bundle a blue sweatshirt under my head and curl into a ball. “Why did you have to die?” I whisper.
    Silence presses against my body and a tear rolls out of the corner of my eye.
    “I need you. I love you.”
    My cell jingles in my bag. The ringtone for Mom. I let it go to voice mail and stay still until I begin to shiver from the cold of the floor, or the lack of human warmth. I retrieve my phone and listen to Mom’s message:
    “Are you almost done? I need you to do some grocery shopping for me.”
    Chores, chores, chores. Swanee never had any chores or responsibilities.
    Mom adds at the end, “I’ll leave the list on the fridge.”
    Lists, lists, lists. I’d been living under a fascist regime until I met Swanee and saw the light of liberation.
    I want to memorize every square inch of this room. My cell is in my hand, so I snap pictures.
    I have dozens of pictures of Swanee on my cell. Goofy shots of her making faces, sticking out her tongue or crossing her eyes; candid shots of her in the moment. A close-up of us kissing.
    I need to stop torturing myself, but I can’t let her cell die. Her charger is plugged in to the wall, so I pull it out and drop it into my bag. On my way to the door, my foot crunches a CD. I bend over to pick it up. There’s no label. Only a line written in permanent marker:
    ♥ LIANA
    Before I even make it home, Swan’s cell pings. I swerve to the curb and read it while I’m idling.
Hi. You didn’t call me. I left you a vm. Did you get it? I can probably get away to meet you later today. If you want. Call me. Por favor!
I text back:
Where do you want to meet and when?
She texts:
Our regular place? Like, 4:30?
    Shit. What’s their regular place?
I text:
Let’s go to a new place. I have something to tell you
    There’s a long pause before her next text arrives.
Is it good or bad?
    When I don’t respond right away, she texts:
If it’s bad, I don’t want to come
    She has to. She needs to know.
    She texts again:
Good or bad, I don’t care. I miss you. Let’s meet at Twin Peaks
    What’s Twin Peaks? Dad would never let me drive in the mountains by myself. Screw that. I need to meet her. I text:
OK
    She texts:
In front of the theater. 4:30?
Fine, I text.
Te amo
I don’t even know what to say to that. I text:
See you
    Suddenly, it hits me. Facebook. I’ll find her there. At least now I know her first name, assuming LT is Liana from the CD.
    Dad practically assaults me as I’m coming through the garage door. “What took so long?” he asks.
    Hello to you, too.
    He shoves the grocery