Read Lies I Told for Free Online Page B

you.”
    I slipped into class as the first bell rang, my mom’s voice echoing in my head: Maybe you can use her. I felt a flush of shame. But that wasn’t what I was doing. I liked Selena. Liked her a lot. I would just keep everything separate, that’s all. Keep Logan and Rachel apart from my friendship with Selena. It would be easy. They didn’t even run in the same crowd.
    By fourth period I almost believed it was possible, and I slid into my seat in AP Euro, feeling more in control.
    â€œHey.”
    I looked up at the sound of Rachel’s voice. It was confident, with a sharp edge that made it easy to imagine what she sounded like when she was annoyed or pissed off.
    â€œHey.”
    â€œThink I could look at your notes from yesterday?” Rachel asked, smoothing her already pin-straight red hair. “I think I missed some stuff while I was looking for a pen.”
    â€œSure.” I pulled the notes out of my binder and handedthem to her. “I don’t know how good they are, but you’re welcome to them.”
    She bent her head and started writing. “So . . . you’re new here, right?”
    â€œYesterday was my first day.”
    â€œWhere are you from?”
    â€œSan Francisco.”
    Rachel looked up. “What brings you to Playa Hermosa?”
    â€œMy dad’s work.”
    She wrote silently, like I wasn’t there. Finally, she handed my notes back with a chilly smile. “Thanks.”
    â€œNo problem.”
    Mr. Stein walked into the room, and I turned uneasily to the front of the class, wondering why Rachel’s questions felt less like small talk and more like an interrogation—and if it might be easier to move on to Logan after all.

Ten
    I brooded over Rachel the rest of the morning. She was the queen of her little kingdom. It was a given that she would be selective about granting admittance. Still, forging bonds with people was more art than science, and I’d learned to listen to my instincts. Friendships could be built on a shared interest in rescue cats or French fashion, eighties punk rock or video games, bad horror movies or Japanese candy.
    At the same time, a mark could seem one way on paper and be completely different in person. I’d been assigned to get close to people who were a slam dunk in the subject files, only to discover that in person we were missing the mysterious brand of chemistry required for fast friendship.
    But I’d always been able to overcome it. Failure to connect wasn’t in my professional vocabulary, yet that was the only way I could describe the weird vibe between Rachel Mercerand me. Something about the inquisitive shine in her eyes, the appraising tip of her head, told me she would not be an easy mark. I could keep trying, but my gut told me it would be a waste of time.
    I decided to move on. Having Rachel on my side might make things easier, but it wasn’t absolutely necessary. I would switch gears, focus on the girls Rachel hung out with—Harper and Olivia—and most importantly on Logan Fairchild.
    I sat with Selena, Ashley, and Nina at lunch. Ashley and Nina shared a pair of headphones, talking nonstop about a concert they’d attended the week before (Selena’s dad wouldn’t let her go), while Selena and I planned a Saturday shopping trip. Rachel and her friends still occupied the table near the window, clearly “their” spot. Logan was there, too, throwing a foam football with a couple of guys when the lunch monitors weren’t looking.
    This time when Logan looked over, I smiled, making a point to meet his gaze across the cafeteria.
    Screw Rachel Mercer.
    I stayed after school to talk to my English teacher about the upcoming midterm. By the time I headed outside, there were only a handful of cars left in the parking lot. The Saab wasn’t one of them.
    My cell phone had buzzed while I’d been talking to Mrs. Kryzek, but I’d forgotten to check