One of Us Is Lying (One of Us is Lying, #1)

by Karen M. McManus

“She’s a princess and you’re a jock,” he says. He thrusts his chin toward Bronwyn, then at Nate. “And you’re a brain. And you’re a criminal. You’re all walking teen-movie stereotypes.”

“I’m the omniscient narrator,” Simon says.

Which is how I came to my part-time job, and why I spent four hours after school today distributing plastic bags full of painkillers around San Diego County.

But to be clear: I don’t sell anything except weed and painkillers. My mother would’ve been fine if she’d stayed away from cocaine.

Okay. In the interest of full disclosure, I stole baby Jesus, and it was definitely to mess with Bronwyn. It would’ve been funnier if she’d freaked out.

I got the idea for killing Simon while watching Dateline.

Let’s face it: everyone at Bayview High hated Simon. I was just the only one with enough guts to do something about it. You’re welcome.

I did feel bad watching Simon die. I’m not a sociopath. In that moment, as he turned that horrible color and fought for air—if I could have stopped it, I would have. I couldn’t, though. Because, you see, I’d taken his EpiPen. And every last one in the nurse’s office.

I try to picture it—me, Nate, and the two girls plotting murder by peanut oil in Mr. Avery’s detention. It’s so stupid it wouldn’t even make a good movie.

“Yes.” Her voice wavers, and if she starts crying I don’t know what I’ll do. Pretend the call dropped, maybe.

He had a breakdown after Simon posted about his cross-dressing.” “Seriously?” Nate asks. Cooper runs a hand back and forth over his hair.

Hm

Somehow, the fact that Nonny accepts my word without question makes me feel guilty.

But there’d also be people who’d make excuses for me, and say there must be more to my story than just getting accused of using steroids. The thing is, they’d be right.

My eyes briefly meet Nate’s, and we both look away without acknowledging each other.

Hmmmmmmmm

“Simon, man.” Jake shakes his head solemnly. “He was freaking brilliant.”

Hmmmmmmmmmm

No matter how awful the rest of my life is, my hair still manages to look good.

Shears lie across the counter in front of me, and I reach for them. Before anyone can stop me, I grab a thick handful of hair and chop the whole thing off above my ear.

“I hooked up with Nate,” she says abruptly, eyes locked on mine.

Babe i think he currently is

Especially Nate. All the tween girls posting about us on social media love him. They couldn’t care less that he’s a convicted drug dealer, because he’s got dreamy eyes.

Fuck off and die, Simon.

“Later.” Kris hesitates a fraction of a second, then leans forward and pulls me roughly toward him, pressing his lips against mine.

CALLED IT

I used to think about that, sometimes, when I wondered what parts of her might still be alive.

I like your horrible taste in movies and the way you never sugarcoat anything and the fact that you have an actual lizard.

I just want to stay wrapped around him for as long as possible, fighting sleep and forgetting about the rest of the world.

I’ve been lying to Keely for months, but I did tell her the truth about Kris. I met him through baseball, although he doesn’t play. He’s friends with another guy I made the exhibition rounds with, who invited us both to his birthday party. And he is German. I just left out the part about being in love with him.

“I’m not hungry,” Cooper says shortly. “You should eat something.” Luis grabs the only untouched food item on his tray and holds it out. “Here, have a banana.” Everyone freezes for a second; then we all burst out laughing at the same time.

You find out who your real friends are when stuff like this happens. Turns out I didn’t have any, but I’m glad Cooper does.

A cold wave washes over me as the words enter my brain and nest there, pushing everything else out. Cooper and Bronwyn are right: that didn’t happen. But I told Jake it did.

“Me and my buddy. We had the accident on purpose. A guy paid us a thousand bucks each to do it. Said it was a prank. I mean, wouldn’t you? The fender barely cost five hundred to fix. The rest was pure profit.”

Sam blows out a sigh and leans against the headrest. He’s quiet for the longest seconds of my life until he says, “It was Simon Kelleher.”

These murder club meetings are becoming a regular thing. We need a new name, though.

We’re all silent for a long minute, until Bronwyn exhales a small gasp. “I’m the omniscient narrator,” she says.

Addy, that airhead homecoming princess turned badass ninja investigator,

To err is human @BronwynRojas. We look forward to receiving your application.

A motorcycle.

HE CAME