Liar. Part 35

AFTER.

Yayeko believes me now.

She wants to talk to people at the Center for Genomics and Systems Biology at NYU. She studied there and a friend of hers works there. She has another friend in the sports science lab at Fordham. They could chart just how far outside the limits of human I am.

I'm not sure.

Wolfishness isn't my secret. It's the whole family's. Grandmother and Great-Aunt would eat anyone who tried to take their blood. They don't believe in science.

Or civilization.

They don't hold with outsiders. They don't want anyone to know what they are. h.e.l.l, they don't want to know what they are, or how werewolfism works.

But I want to know.

If I do more tests and they prove what we know they will, Yayeko thinks they'll get funding to study me. It could pay my college fees. I'd be someone's research project, a paid lab rat.

If I let them test me.

If I show them what I am.

But what kind of life will that be? I'll be a bigger freak than ever.

There are scholars.h.i.+ps for running. Zach once asked me about it. The only thing stopping me was Dad telling me to hide my wolfishness. But I can tone it down: I can run fast enough for a scholars.h.i.+p, but not so fast I scare them.

I have choices.

This one is easy: I can't betray my family, my real family-the Greats, everyone up on the farm. I don't want Pete to lose his new home.

I'll go to school. A good school with a strong track program and a good biology department. I'll find out what I am.

LIE NUMBER TEN.

This one's more of an omission than a lie. I don't know how to count it: is it just one omission or many? How many omissions add up to a lie?

I didn't mention all the reporters. I didn't mention what it was like going to school past a throng of press, questions screamed, cameras in my face. My photo in the paper. Tayshawn's. Sarah's.

And Zach's, of course. Almost every day. His parents started getting love letters from strangers. Truckloads of them. Love letters to a dead boy from people who never knew him. That's much sicker than anything I did, isn't it?

Reporters followed me to and from school.

People I didn't know pointed at me and whispered.

My parents had to get rid of their landline. It's another reason they were so determined to send me upstate. The reporters never found the farm. No one ever found it.

And the trial.

The trial was worst of all.

You're wondering why I didn't tell you about that?

It was a distraction. Doesn't add to the real story. Which is me and Zach and my wolfishness.

Yayeko Shoji understood-understands, I mean.

That's why she visits me so often.

THE TRUTH OF ME.

The apartment is small. One tiny room. The kitchen is along one wall, the bed along another, and a desk and a bookshelf along the third. There's a view of a park, and no cage disguised as a desk.

I'm not in the city anymore, but it's a good school in a good town, and I have a full ride.

Running, just like Zach said. I never run top speed. Not when anyone's looking. I don't have to.

The hormones I use are more precise than my pills ever were. I inject them once every three months. No more fear of forgetting to take my pill. I visit the Greats, even when everyone is changed, without the faintest itching of my palms. I told Grandmother and Great-Aunt Dorothy about my research. They say they're proud of me, especially Grandmother, but they wish I would stay on the farm.

The white boy, Pete, is always pleased to see me. He's learned how to smile.

He's changed. Taller, healthier, there's flesh over his bones, not just skin.

I haven't talked to my parents since the day they abandoned me. My mom writes me letters via the Greats. I don't write back.

I refuse their visits. That's a power left to me.

I saw Dad once, watching me run. I didn't show that I saw. He looked older, more gray, and his face more gaunt. I wonder if I did that to him.

I'm not ready for my parents. I don't know when I will be. Maybe never.

Tayshawn and me stay in touch. He made it into MIT. He wants to make robots. Sarah went to Harvard. I haven't seen her since graduation. She doesn't write.

I have friends here. Other runners and a few from my cla.s.ses. But they don't know who or what I am.

So, yeah, I'm still lying, but never to Yayeko, not to the Greats, and not to Pete.

It's a start.

PROMISE FULFILLED.

So I did it. I told you the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. Like I said I would. Are you proud of me?

You should be.

Though I suspect you're not.

I suspect you're muttering to yourself, "Werewolves? Really? She expects me to believe in werewolves?"

You think my happy ending is too much. Too unlikely. A girl who runs so fast she breaks world records-men's world records? Without any training. You don't believe that either, do you?

You're insulted I think you're so gullible that you'll believe such outrageous lies. You were never fooled. You can read between the lines, pull away the werewolf bulls.h.i.+t, and see what's left.

You don't think it's the pretty picture Micah the liar painted.

You think you know what really happened, who I really am, what I really did.

You think I did it twice. Maybe more. Five times?

You don't believe in my teeth and claws. You believe in my hands, in my knife. You don't think I wrote this from a cozy little apartment-you think it was composed from a cold, padded cell.

But you're wrong.

I didn't. Not Jordan. Not Zach. And certainly not Yayeko and her daughter and her mom. Yayeko saved me. Why would I kill her?

Besides I told you often enough: werewolves don't kill people. You should listen to what I say.

Everything I told you is true: high school, the farm, the Greats, the wolves, the white boy, my scholars.h.i.+p-everything.

Most especially Zach.

I loved him so much. Every fiber, every tooth, every bone. I could never hurt him. Every minute of every day I ache for him.

That is my life. The beginning and end of it.

Would I lie to you?

Also by Justine Larbalestier.

How to Ditch Your Fairy.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS.

Jill Grinberg believed in this book even when it was a tiny kernel of an idea that I was too scared to write because I didn't think I was good enough. She thought I was, and pushed when I most needed pus.h.i.+ng. Liar was much easier to write knowing I was in such excellent hands. Thanks to everyone at Jill's agency, Grinberg Literary: Cheryl Pientka, Laura Ross, and Kirsten Wolf. You're all worth your weight in gold.

My Australian and U.S. publishers are the best in the universe. Love and thanks to everyone at Allen & Unwin and Bloomsbury, especially my fabulous editors, Melanie Cecka (Bloomsbury) and Jodie Webster (Allen & Unwin). This book would not have found its way into your hands without the hard work of the following people: Caroline Abbey, Jackie Aitken, Liz Bray, Beth Eller, Katie Fee, Luke Frost, Anne h.e.l.lman, Bruno Herfst, Julia Imogen, Margaret Miller, Kevin Peters, Hilary Reynolds, Deb Shapiro, Chris Sims, Sarah Tran, Erica Wagner, Melissa Weisberg, and too many others to name. Thank you!

Liar had many first readers: Holly Black, Gwenda Bond, Coe Booth, Libba Bray, Ca.s.sandra Clare, Alaya Johnson, Maureen Johnson, Jan Larbalestier, Karen Meisner, Maude Perez-Simon, Diana Peterfreund, Carrie Ryan, Robin Wa.s.serman, Scott Westerfeld, Lili Wilkinson, and Doselle Young. Thank you so much for all your comments and continued advice throughout the writing process. You're all amazing. Thanks, too, for catching so many of the Australianisms!

Extra big thanks to Karen Joy Fowler for showing me how to fix Part Three.

This book was written using Scrivener, a brilliant and indispensable piece of writing software by Keith Blount, which allowed me to write Liar as though it were a jigsaw puzzle. Without Scrivener, this book would most likely not exist.

I had a great deal of help with the research for this book. Any mistakes, of course, are mine. Guarina Lopez's a.s.sistance with research across many areas was indispensable, and I made frequent use of her reference photos. Lisa Herb and Peter Zahler helped enormously with my descriptions of the flora and fauna of upstate New York. The language Micah uses to describe her favorite bird calls was influenced by Peter's. Coe Booth and Alaya Johnson were my hair advisors. Maud and Luis Perez-Simon helped me with Micah's mum's French. Marvin Ward taught me about running techniques. Rebecca Skloot helped me understand DNA testing. I am aware that cheek swab saliva testing is the most common method these days, but blood is more dramatic. Plus, Micah's a liar, remember? It probably was a cheek swab saliva test. I mean, if she did the test at all.

There were many inspirations for this book. The song "Why Do I Lie?" by Luscious Jackson was particularly important. I listened to it many, many times during the writing. So, too, was a long conversation I had with John Green on the subject of lying, which you can find here: http://justinelarbalestier.com/blog/2006/09/21/john-green-and-the-art-of-lying/. Conversations with Chantal Bourgault over the years about her doctoral research also had a huge impact on this book.

Charles Ardai and Sarah Weinman very kindly gave me a great deal of advice about how the mystery book world works.

Thanks also to Melissa A. Calderone for giving me secret information.

I am a writer who does not thrive on being alone. In addition to everyone already mentioned, conversations with the following wonderful people had an impact on this book: John Bern, Niki Bern, Deborah Biancotti, Tempest Bradford, Kate Crawford, Margaret Crocker, Bo Daley, Sarah Dollard, Adrian Hobbs, Emily Jenkins, Ellen Kushner, Yanni Kuznia, Margo Lanagan, Jennifer Laughran, Stephanie Leary, Lauren McLaughlin, Jeannie Messer, Jaclyn Moriarty, Garth Nix, Olivia Rousset, Sarah Rees-Brennan, Ben Rosenbaum, John Scalzi, Delia Sherman, Cat Sparks, Micole Sudberg, and Edwina Throsby.

Lastly and always, thank you to my wonderful family, John Bern, Niki Bern, Jan Larbalestier, and Scott Westerfeld.

Copyright 2009 by Justine Larbalestier.

end.