Trust Me. I'm Lying - (SLOWLY EDITING)

For The Sass: Chapter 3

Fifteen minutes later, when I've finished my retelling—I left out what the letter specifically said— mainly because then I'd have to explain my other half. Chris just nodded absentmindedly. She seemed to be thinking hard about something.

"We don't know who wrote it?" she asked cautiously.

"No," I shook my head. "Unless you could somehow tell me who wrote it and get many complications out of my head."

"And he claims you don't know who he is and vice versa?" A pause. "Are you sure it's a guy?"

"Yeah." I nodded. I noticed this bizarre edge in her voice. "Why?"

"Are we sure about this?" she asks again, ignoring my previous question.

"I'm 99.9% sure about this, Chris. Why?"

"Because," she looks up at me and smiles a mischievous smile. "You, my dear, are going to find out who this guy

is."

I just stared at her, unable to say anything more than an "Excuse me?" I swear she was going crazy.

"You heard me," she replied.

"What did we hear?" Jessica's voice asked, tapping my shoulder. I turned around and saw her just standing there, and then I shrieked.

"How did you get in?" I asked loudly, jumping back and clutching my chest in an attempt to control my heartbeat.

"Through the front door," she shrugged and sat down. I looked at her in amazement and a little terror. Her eyes darted from Chris to me. "I got the SOS message. What happened?"

I groaned and hid my face in a cushion.

"A guy found the letter you both made me write. Someone whom I do not know, and now this person over here—" I jerked my chin at Chris, "—wishes for me to be acquaintances with him."

There was another pause, this time from Jessica. "Um...why not?" she said quietly.

Great.

"Not helpful, Jessica!" I snapped at her.4

"Look, Bells," Chris sighed. "The boy in question took the time to write back a letter. That's hidden in a book—a book, woman. Now, the three of us know boys in school are either idiots or douches or both. They don't talk about books. They're also testosterone-filled bags that just care about having sex and partying. Or else a combination of all the above. The three of us also know that the one who found that could have easily laughed and shown the letter to their friends' (aka, testosterone-filled bags) who would have spread the news like wildfire. That didn't happen." She began pacing around in my living room.

"Seriously?" Jess asked in amazement, looking at me with wide eyes. "He took the time to write back from something in a book? An old book?"

"He did!" Chris retorted, pointing at the ceiling as if she had just discovered something genius.

"So you just want me to write back because of that?" I asked indignantly, and she stopped pacing. "Because he seems likable? It's a letter!"

"She's right. Chris is," Jess whispered from behind me. I fixated my eyes on her.

"Excuse me?" I may or may not have been throwing daggers out my eyes.

"Bells. If this is a boy we're talking about—" she began. I cut her off.

"We don't know what he could do with the letter," I reminded her.

"Show it off to his friends. As Chris pointed out. Idiots, Jessica. They don't care."