Pants on Fire by Meg Cabot

Author:Meg Cabot [Cabot, Meg]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi, pdf
ISBN: 9780061971945
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Twelve

So. It had happened at last. Liam’s taunt, with which he’d been teasing me for years, was finally coming true.

I should have realized what was going on a long time ago. It all made perfect sense. The fact that I was going out with the hottest, most popular guy in school…yet making out, behind his back, with another guy.

The fact that I couldn’t bring myself to decide which of these guys I liked better, because the truth was, I didn’t like either of them all that much, except to make out with.

The fact that I had lied about it to both of them—and my best friend, and all of their friends, and my parents, and myself, too—so many times, I couldn’t even figure out anymore who I’d told what when about whom.

It had been there all the time, the plain, simple truth. Liam had been the only one ever to accuse me of it to my face:

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

It was true. I’m a liar. And I can’t stop thinking about boys.

I knew Mr. Gatch was right, and that I had to tell him. Tommy, I mean. Even though I was convinced he was up to no good—and the fact that I’d seen him in Mr. Gatch’s office just proved it. Whatever the two of them were cooking up together, you could bet that nothing good was going to come out of it. At least, nothing good for Katie Ellison.

And yet…could I really stand by and let that gorgeous face get bashed in?

No. I couldn’t.

Which I will admit makes me insufferably weak. But is that really such a surprise? That I’m weak, I mean? I make out with guys behind emergency generators. What else is someone going to call me? Besides a tease, which Sidney already told me I’m in danger of becoming if I don’t start putting out. As if I care.

I tried to stop myself, though. I took my time about changing clothes when I got home. I checked my e-mail. I flipped through the new Us Weekly. I played around with my makeup. I made and ate a tuna fish sandwich. I waited until the absolute last minute until I had to leave the house, or be late for work, then looked up the number to Tommy’s grandparents’ house and dialed it.

Tommy’s grandmother answered.

“Hi, Mrs. Sullivan,” I said in the chipperest voice I could manage. “It’s Katherine Ellison, Tommy’s old friend from school?”

There was a pause, during which, no doubt, Tommy’s grandmother thought about the way I had left her grandson out to dry after he’d done the right thing and stepped forward about what he knew concerning the Quahogs.

Then Mrs. Sullivan said, “Oh, Katie! Hello! How are you? I saw that lovely picture you took of Mrs. Hinkley at her great-granddaughter’s christening last spring. You are so talented!”

“Um,” I said. “Thanks, Mrs. Sullivan. I’m looking for Tommy. Is he there?”

“Oh, no, dear,” Mrs. Sullivan said. “I’m afraid he’s out and about.”

“Oh,” I said. I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or disappointed.

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