Lying Out Loud Read Online Free PDF

anyone.
    ME: Too late. I now have dirt on you. Mission accomplished.
    He wrote back with an emoticon of a face sticking its tongue out at me. I laughed.
    ME: More dirt! This is my lucky night!
    RYDER: Damn it. I’m playing right into your hands, aren’t I?
    ME: That you are, sir. That you are.
    Whoa, wait. Was I bantering with Ryder Cross? My archnemesis? The Lex Luthor to my Superman? The Loki to my Thor? The peanut butter to my jelly? Okay, I know most of the world thinks those last two go together, but I personally find the combination rather abhorrent and just ew.
    But I totally was. Ryder Cross and I were teasing each other in a surprisingly nonhostile way. I suppose this was the power of the Internet.
    ME: So … your mom?
    It took Ryder a little while to type out his response.
    RYDER: My mom left my dad. But instead of just divorcing him and moving to a new house and letting me continue at the school I’ve been attending since I was five, she insisted on packing up everything, moving hundreds of miles away, and dragging me with her. It’s like she didn’t care what I wanted. I had friends in DC. I had a girlfriend. I was at one of the top schools in the country. But that didn’t matter. She had gotten a new job and I had to come with her to this tiny town in the middle of nowhere. I freaking hate it here.
    RYDER: Sorry. I know my saying that is why everyone here hates me. I guess to be fair, it’s not so much the town as the situation. I don’t want to be here.
    ME: No … I get it, actually.
    And I did. I knew Ryder didn’t like Hamilton — everyone knew that — but I’d never really thought about it from his perspective. Being pulled out of a place where you were happy, where you had friends, couldn’t be easy. I couldn’t imagine how miserable I’d be if I’d been forced to move somewhere hundreds of miles from Hamilton. From Amy.
    I’d probably be kind of an asshole, too.
    RYDER: So, yes. That’s why I’m not asking my mom for help. I’ve barely spoken to her since we got here in August. Petty, I know.
    ME: You’re seventeen. I think you’re allowed to be petty. Especially about something like this.
    ME: But why can’t you go back? Live with your dad?
    Again, Ryder took a while to write his answer.
    RYDER: I asked. Before we left, I asked to stay. But my mom wouldn’t let me.
    ME: Why?
    RYDER: I have no idea. Because she’s selfish? Because she wants to punish my dad by keeping me away? Not that she has any right to punish him. She’s the one who left. She’s the one who asked for the divorce. Dad doesn’t want it. He still hasn’t signed the papers.
    ME: Do you think they might get back together?
    RYDER: That would be difficult with her being a few states away and all.
    RYDER: I don’t know. And lately, I can never get ahold of my dad. His secretary always says he’s busy, and he doesn’t answer his cell. I know he’s got a lot going on in Washington, but …
    RYDER: Okay, I know this isn’t the cool thing to say, but I miss him.
    ME: I’m sorry, Ryder.
    RYDER: I don’t want you to be sorry. I don’t want anyone to be sorry. Except maybe my mom.
    I pulled up Google and tried to find a picture of Ryder and his family. I figured it wouldn’t be hard since his dad was in Congress. They probably had plenty of photos from the campaign trail.
    Within a minute, I’d found one. In the picture, Ryder was standing between his parents. His dad was older than I expected. Or maybe he just looked old because of stress. I knew politicians supposedly aged quickly. His hair was gray but well kept. He had Ryder’s bright green eyes and a charismatic smile that could definitely win a vote or two. On Ryder’s other side was his mom, a very pretty black woman in a perfectly tailored suit. She was tall — taller than her husband — and while her eyes were darker than Ryder’s, they had the same shape, large and striking.
    And in the middle was Ryder, dressed in a suit very similar to his