Bad Boy, Good Boy (boyxboy)

22 - good lying

A/N: Since my last update this book has gotten an extra 1,000 reads and I would just like to thank everyone! I am so happy.  I dedicate this chapter to the following people (because they were so awesome and voted on every chapter and they read the book so quickly and some of them even left a comment which just made my day):

sophisticatedsister ; 1BreezyFBaby1 ; Fangirllove82 ; SubwayChan ; Iheartnaps

Thank you, babes. You make writing so much more fun and rewarding. (and yes, I am always watching)

Chapter 22 – good lying

What's the best way to lie to someone? I'm asking for a friend.

Should you look confidently into the eyes of the person you're trying to deceive? Should you bite your tongue and wait the lie to seep out of your being? Should you write it down and pass it as a note, hoping no one else, no one who knows the truth, sees this. Because then they might tell on you. Then, instead of lies, truth spills. And truth is dangerous.

"Is he okay?" Sam's mom asks, even though I can hear them and they know I can hear them.

Sam doesn't know the truth, so she doesn't even think she's lying, when she replies with a nod, "Sure he is."

What would the best explanation be? He's confused? He's trying to be better? We're working on it?

I can't sleep because I am thinking about it. All of the bullshit that has piled up and is now towering like a skyscraper. It's all going to come down on me, heavier than rain. It's going to crack my skull open on the pavement and my mind will be bleeding out on the street for everyone to see and laugh at.

Why am I such a mess?

Sam snaps her fingers in front of my face. I spaced out.

"Yes," I say, but I'm not sure what she was asking or what she was telling me. Did she even say anything at all? I bite the inside of my cheek, not the right side, but the left. It's like biting the devil, teasing him with my teeth. Because all the bad is connected with the left side – but is it the left side of the body or the brain?

I haven't thought about Devon, so I guess I don't love him after all. Although, I've secretly been hoping, subconsciously, to see him in my dreams. But since it hasn't been an active wanting, I guess I'm just a sham.

"God, you weren't listening at all," Sam rolls her eyes, turns on her heel, clenches her fists and growls under her breath like a lion cub.

I was listening, though, I want to tell her. I just wasn't listening to her. I was listening to me.

"Everybody, take five, or ten," Sam announces. The kids stop and stare. "We'll be back as soon as possible."

Sam drags me to Heather office by the hand. By my right hand. As if Heather were a god.

I want to slip my hand out of Sam's and offer in exchange the other hand. Because Heather is a devil.

She's dragging me to hell.

I feel like quitting. The play doesn't seem that important anymore, it feels like I've reached the peak and am ready to bury it in the past now. Anger management seems like a faraway dream, so far away that I can't even remember what it was like. So far away, that I'm ready to let it slip into oblivion.