More Than Lies (More Than #1)(2)

“Hey, so what do you want to do, today?” Shane asks Trent, ignoring me.

I don’t hear Trent’s response to my brother because something small and purple catches my attention. It’s standing behind Shane’s new friend. The purple thing is moving. The deep, dark color reminds me of Donatello from The Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Donny is no Raphael, but he’s still a Ninja Turtle, so he’s cool in my book. When the purple thing slides from behind Trent, I see it’s a girl. She is staring back at me and smiling like she’s shy or something. The thought occurs to me that she is a very pretty girl.

Whoa dude . . . stop right there. Wrong! Girls are not pretty. They’re girls and that purple I saw was her dress—a gross, yucky dress. Again, thank you Jesus that I am a boy.

I walk closer, standing next to my brother so I can get a better look at this non-pretty girl. She has long wavy blonde hair that comes down to the middle of her back, and her eyes are really dark. At first glance I think they’re black, my favorite color, but upon looking a little harder I see that they are the darkest shade of blue I’ve ever seen. Her eyes kind of remind me of the sky when it’s really dark outside. They’re big, round, dark blue globes that are staring back at me.

So NOT pretty.

“She can stay here with Shawn.”

I pause my train of thought about non-pretty girls and glance up to my brother’s face. Who can stay with me? Her? I wonder if she likes to play Legos. Do girls like Legos? Hmmm . . . I never thought about that before. I don’t have any friends who are girls. Does she want to be my friend? She looks about my age. What do girls do for fun? I draw and do a whole lot of other cool things.

“Nah, dude, Taralynn comes with me. You want me to go down to the creek, my little sister comes too.”

“Taral . . .” Uhhh, I don’t need this now. Come on, dude, just say it. Taralynn. I can say it in my head. Why can’t I say it out loud? “Taral . . .” It still doesn’t come out right. She’s still smiling at me though, but then goes back to hiding shyly behind her brother. Stupid “L” sounds. I’ll just call her Tara. It’s safer to stick with Tara. No need to look stupid in front of this girl or my brother for that matter.

“Can I come too?” I ask, with a little bit of hope in my voice. If Tara’s going, I should be able to go, too, right? My brother looks down at me, and I can already tell before he speaks that he’s going to say no. I used to be his best friend. Now it seems he never wants me around, and I don’t know why.

“Stay here. I won’t be gone long.” And with that he leaves me standing alone in the yard. When Tara doesn’t follow her big brother, he tugs on her hand to pull her along. I see her smile fall from her face, and soon they are all out of my sight.

What makes her so special?

Why does she get to go and I don’t?

She’s even a girl, a stupid girl, in a stupid purple dress.

And my brother ends up being gone all day, not returning until it’s time for dinner.

Stupid Tara with a stupid name I can’t even say.





CHAPTER ONE





TARALYNN





17 years later





“What’s one word that best describes you? Don’t think about it. Just say the first thing that pops into your head.”

Is he for real?

I want to roll my eyes. Instead, I smile and force my eyes to widen as I bring the glass of pinot grigio I’m clutching to my lips, attempting to buy myself more time to answer his annoying question. The cool liquid slides down my throat in a smooth swallow. I hate it. I’m not a wine girl. I’m a beer and tequila girl. This crap sucks and I’ll never acquire a taste for it.

Oh yeah, his question. Hmmm, let me think.

“Honest,” I respond making my voice sound soft and sweet.

Liar!

I don’t intend on telling this joke-of-a-date the truth. He would cringe. I am many things, but honest is not one of them. Lies spill out of my mouth quicker and smoother than the truth ever has. Most of the time I don’t realize I’ve told a fib until it’s already been said. I’ve been lying and keeping secrets since before I learned how to write my own name. It’s the only way to survive in my family. At least for me, that is.

“What about you?” I ask, turning his question around on him. I don’t care what his answer is. I’m bored. I lost interest in him half an hour ago. There goes another lie. I was never interested in him. He should have kept his mouth shut, and then maybe I would have suggested sex in lieu of dinner.

Okay, not really. After all, that would certainly get back to my parents, and the last thing I need them to think is their daughter is a whore. I’m not a whore.

That is not a lie. Though maybe in some people’s eyes I might be considered one. I’m sure if my mother knew I had casual sex every now and again I would be the worst daughter in the history of all daughters. I would be an actual embarrassment to her, instead of the one she runs her mouth about me being.

I’m a twenty-one-year-old college senior; of course I’m going to have a little sex here and there. Sorry, but I don’t see that being so much of a big deal—or even a sin. There are plenty of real bad people in this world to count as actual sinners. Murders, pedophiles—those sickos.