We Were Liars

by E. Lockhart

We are Sinclairs. No one is needy. No one is wrong.

We live, at least in the summertime, on a private island off the coast of Massachusetts. Perhaps that is all you need to know.

ME, JOHNNY, MIRREN, and Gat. Gat, Mirren, Johnny, and me. The family calls us four the Liars, and probably we deserve it. We are all nearly the same age, and we all have birthdays in the fall. Most years on the island, we’ve been trouble.

He was contemplation and enthusiasm. Ambition and strong coffee. I could have looked at him forever.

Mirren took off her shoes and the rest of us followed. We tossed stones into the water. We just existed.

I wrote our names in the sand. Cadence, Mirren, Johnny, and Gat. Gat, Johnny, Mirren, and Cadence. That was the beginning of us.

One day I looked at Gat, lying in the Clairmont hammock with a book, and he seemed, well, like he was mine. Like he was my particular person.