Where the Truth Lies Read Online Free PDF Page A

“It’s not like it’s a big deal that he has a tattoo. People have tattoos, Em. You know, my brother and I are getting matching tattoos once we turn eighteen.”
    Grace and I share a quick glance. We’re both trying not to smile.
    “What, um, what tattoo are you getting, Stephanie?” I ask, winking at Grace.
    Steph narrows her eyes at us. “You know . You both know.”
    “I forgot,” Grace says. “Why don’t you tell us again?”
    Everyone calls Ethan “The Prince.” Mostly because that’s his last name, but also because it’s just too perfect. He’s something like six feet five, really well built with dark hair and a coolness to him that isn’t a bit intimidating. He plays baseball. He loves music, and is really good at percussion instruments. Aside from my father, he’s just about the nicest person I’ve ever met.
    His constant kindness is what I’d say is Ethan’s only downfall: he’s so nice, he gives people the benefit of the doubt too much. It’s like he has blinders on when it comes to other people—especially his sister. I mean, sure, Stephanie is my best friend, but I’m not oblivious to the finer points of her personality. Ethan, however, does seem oblivious. He thinks she can do no wrong. He doesn’t even acknowledge that she smokes cigarettes, and more often than not, she reeks unmistakably.
    Anyway, for years Stephanie has been trying to give herself the nickname “The Princess.” But as much as she’s tried, it just hasn’t stuck. Sometimes Ethan calls her Princess—but Ethan calls lots of girls Princess. Mostly, he calls his sister Stephie.
    But the plot gets thicker. Last year, Ethan went out with Lindsey Cole for about six months. They were like the golden couple. Since everyone calls Ethan the Prince already, they started calling Lindsey the Princess. To say that Stephanie didn’t like it at all is a major understatement. After Ethan and Lindsey broke up, Stephanie got the idea that she and Ethan should get matching Prince and Princess tattoos someday. And she made sure nobody ever called Lindsey the Princess again.
    I know Steph better than I know Ethan, so I can’t really say how he feels about the idea. But I know how Grace and I and pretty much everybody else feels, and as her closest friend, I haven’t held back in sharing my opinion with Stephanie.
    “Please stop talking about that,” I say. “It’s so gross.”
    Grace nods. “You need to let it go. Just imagine how your husband will feel someday.”
    Stephanie has full, pouty lips, which she presses together now in agitation. “I don’t know what you mean.”
    “Well, then you need to have a talk with Dr. Miller. I think there’s a name for it.” Grace glances at the clock. “We have to go to dinner. Somebody wake up Franny.”
    Steph glares at both of us. “You two go ahead.”
    “I’ll spray some perfume on her,” I say.
    “Uh-huh.” She continues to pout. “Don’t save me a seat.” For a second, I think she might really be mad. But when she remembers to slip the Dadmobile plate into her backpack as she’s getting ready to leave, I know she’s mostly joking.
    Grace and I head out together. Franny peers at us with sleepy eyes as we walk into my room, but she doesn’t say anything. Her frame is so tiny that I can barely make it out beneath the sheets.
    I go over to her bed and kneel beside her. “Hey, my little waif. Time to wake up.”
    “Mmmm … ,” she murmurs. “I want cuddles , Emily.”
    “Later. It’s time for dinner.”
    Once we get outside, we join the threads of students leaving their dorms to head up to dinner, everyone eventually forming a thick cluster of bodies that winds up the hill.
    Just ahead of us, Renee walks with the seventh-graders from earlier. They’re almost tripping over each other as they try to stay close to her, hanging on her every word.
    At one point, when she turns around to say something, she catches my eye. She raises her right hand and wiggles her