Sara Shepard - 4.5 The First Lie

Thayer squints. “Lying Game?” He says it like he’s never heard of it before. But I know he has. I’m sure Laurel’s told him about it, if he didn’t already know from school. I feel paralyzed. I want to somehow put on the brakes, make this all stop, but the words won’t come out of my mouth. Everything is happening too fast.

Madeline straightens and whirls toward me, her blue eyes shining like gemstones. “Sorry we interrupted before you had a chance to invite him to the picnic, Sutton,” she says. “But when we saw you guys dancing, we knew you were going to seal the deal tonight. We just couldn’t hold back.”

Thayer looks at me. “Seal the deal? What are they talking about?”

Madeline puts her hand on her hip. “What do you think we’re talking about, Thayer?”

Charlotte guffaws. “You don’t think Sutton would actually go for you, do you?”

Dark realization dawns on Thayer’s chiseled features. He stares at me, his eyes wide. “Sutton?” he asks. “What the hell is going on?”

“I …” It comes out of me like a burp. Just say it , I tell myself. Just tell your friends that you really wanted to kiss him. But my mouth can’t form the words. The moment I say it, my friends will lose all respect for me. What was I thinking, dancing with Thayer for real, for keeps, in front of everyone? How could I have thought they’d just accept this? And it’s all my fault. If I’d have fought harder to stop the prank, this wouldn’t have happened. Even if I’d had to pull back from Thayer, pretend I didn’t like him, at least it would be better than this.

Charlotte gasps. “Oh my God. He really fell for it! He actually thought she liked him!”

“This is better than we imagined,” Madeline says. “You really thought you were so hot that the most popular girl in school would want to go out with you?”

Thayer steps back as though we’ve punched him. “Sutton, is this true?”

A wave of nausea ripples through me. No , I want to say. Of course not. But then my stomach lurches. I know what I have to do. I have no choice.

I thrust my hands into my pockets and work to keep my voice steady. “It was a prank , Thayer,” I hiss, mustering up every bit of scorn I possibly can. “You needed to be knocked down a few pegs. You can thank us later.”

Thayer’s brows knit together. He balls his hands into fists. “You’ve got to be kidding me?”

“Nope!” Charlotte crows gleefully.

He staggers backward, almost barreling into a cactus. “So, everything we talked about? That moment we had at your house? Those texts? None of it was true?”

I can’t even look at him. “No.”

Thayer shakes his head slowly. “God, Sutton. You’re an even bigger bitch than everyone says.”

I feel dizzy, the air rushing from my lungs. I know what people say about me, of course. I know what they think. It’s just, I don’t care about their opinions.

Only Thayer’s.

“It’s okay, Baby Bro,” Madeline singsongs. “We can find you someone more your speed. Maybe a middle schooler?”

But Thayer barely hears her. He’s still staring at me. “That would be better than getting involved with you,” Thayer says, his voice thick with disgust. “Have you ever been honest a day in your life?”

Inside, I reel, but my expression is totally controlled. “With guys I like, Thayer. Not with you.”

Thayer’s face contorts into an ugly grimace, and he whirls around, kicking clouds of dust up from the gravel of the Banerjee front drive as he runs into the middle of the street.

A lump forms in my chest. I want to follow him. I want to fix this. But with my friends standing here, watching me, I can’t.

Charlotte cackles, doubling over. “Oh my God, Mads, I think he’s actually crying .”

Still giggling, Madeline straightens up and claps me on the shoulder. “That. Was. Amazing. Good work, Sutton.”

“Uh-huh,” I say woodenly.

“I can’t wait to send that picture around,” Charlotte exclaims.

“We knew you could bag him,” Madeline says.

And then my best friends link arms with me, one on either side, and lead me back to the party. Not that I’m in the mood for it anymore. Right now, there’s only one thought running through my mind:

What did I just do?

“Sutton, can you please stop bogarting the Twizzlers?”

“What? Oh, sure. Sorry.” I idly pass the giant bag of strawberry licorice across the couch to Charlotte. It’s later that same night, and we’re back in Madeline’s family room. We stayed at the party for a while after the “prank” was exposed, and I went through the motions as best as I could, but I can’t get Thayer—and that devastated look on his face—out of my mind. I didn’t see him again at the party, not that I would have known what to do or to say to him if I had. There’s part of me that doesn’t want to be here at all. I’d rather be home, snuggled up with Scooby-Doo, thinking about how it felt to kiss Thayer—and how I could fix everything that happened tonight.

Thayer must have come home earlier than we did, and we haven’t heard a peep from his room since we got here. Still, traces of him permeate the Vegas’ media room: a battered copy of Spin sitting on the sleek, mid-century modern coffee table, a row of slightly tarnished soccer trophies locked in a tall glass cabinet, a key chain tossed in a decorative bowl with the Hollier High logo. Thayer is all around me.

Too bad he wants nothing to do with me now.

Then Madeline shoots up. “Charlotte, be careful with the Diet Coke! If you spill on the leather sofa, my dad is going to kill me.” Something in her tone suggests that it’s not an exaggeration.

“God, sorry .” Charlotte sets her glass on a coaster on the coffee table. “We shouldn’t be drinking soda, anyway—we should have champagne to celebrate the smashing success of the first Lying Game prank of the season!”

“Done and done,” Madeline says. “And maybe it’ll give us some inspiration for the back-to-school prank. As long as we’re on a roll.” Then she rises and pads to the Mad Men –style hutch that stands adjacent to the oversized flat-screen TV on the far side of the room. She slides the cabinet doors open and pokes around inside it, her bun bobbing up and down lightly as she hunts.

After a moment, she emerges, triumphantly brandishing a half-full bottle of Absolut. “Will vodka do?”

“Absolut-ly,” Charlotte trills, but I can’t even muster the energy to roll my eyes at her nerdiness.

Madeline dips into the kitchen, returning with three clean glasses stacked in the crook of her arm and a carton of orange juice tucked under her chin, somehow managing to make the awkward juggling act look graceful.

“We’ll save the champagne for after the back-to-school prank. Like a grand finale. This is just a warm-up.” She winks, heavy lashes fluttering against her alabaster cheek.

She pours three generous cocktails, vodka sloshing over the sides of the glasses, which she hastily wipes with the hem of her gray Calvin Klein ribbed tank top. She passes two of the drinks to Charlotte and me. We each take one and raise our arms, clinking glasses.

I will the corners of my mouth into the most convincing smile I can manage. My face feels stiff, like a carnival mask. “Cheers,” I mumble.

“To the Lying Game!” Madeline toasts, brimming with enthusiasm. She fixes her sparkling blue eyes on me. “Seriously, Sutton, your work was inspired. Thank you so much for putting Thayer in his place for me.” She sounds intensely sincere. Almost alarmingly so.