Chapters (47)
- Cover
- Dedication
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- 2 Months Later
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
- Books by Kasie West
- Back Ad
- About the Publisher
I folded it and put it on my desk. Then, maybe because I was mad that he wanted it back or maybe because I was tired of feeling like I was the only one still a little hung up on the relationship, I grabbed my perfume and sprayed the sweatshirt. If I had to return it, then he had to suffer through my scent for a few days. Hopefully it would stir up some memories that made him good and lonely. I spritzed it two more times for good measure, then shoved it in my backpack. That’s when I remembered his other claim—that he’d left his math book here.
I moved to my hands and knees to search under my desk and bed. It wasn’t in either of those places so I crawled over to the closet, where I had to sift through a layer of clothes on the floor—mostly T-shirts and jeans, my standard wardrobe. I came up empty-handed. I tried to remember the last time he’d done homework at my house and a picture of him sitting up against the far wall, his ankle on his knee, his pencil sideways in his mouth, came into my mind. “What’d you get for number four?” he’d asked through that pencil.
“I’m only on two.”
“What’s taking you so long?”
“I had to text Amelia the shoulder exercise I found.”
“Of course you did,” he’d mumbled.
My phone buzzed, bringing me out of my memory and reminding me I was still no closer to finding the math book. I stood up and sat on my bed, back against the headboard, and read the newest message from Heath Hall.
No riddles. Just truth.
That seemed like another riddle to me. I tried to interpret it. My brain was too tired to figure out his game. My mom had already messed with my head tonight to get me to go to the charity dinner. I didn’t need more manipulation. I’d find out who he was at some point. Someone would slip. I remembered part of a quote my dad once told me. Something about how truth couldn’t be hidden. I quickly Googled it, then typed it out for Heath Hall.
Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.
His response was quick. Too quick to have been Googled like mine.
Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.
You have the mask. What’s your truth?
Exactly.