Free Liar by Francine Pascal Page B

you’re too honest to pretend that you don’t. That’s what makes you so different from everyone else.
    She shook her head and turned away from him. Yet in spite of the fresh batch of tears that were welling in her eyes, she couldn’t help but feel a sense ofpeace. With Ed here, she knew she’d have the strength to face whatever happened to Phoebe. She wouldn’t have to hide anymore.

Off the Hook
    â€œYO, MOON! TURN OFF YOUR GODDAMN ringer!”
    Sam sat Perfectly still in the middle of his laundry-strewn floor, staring at the phone on his desk. Another shrill ring split the silence.
    â€œMoon!” Fists pounded on the door. “At least take the freaking thing off the hook, won’t you?”
    Sam winced. Mike Suarez had never sounded so angry before. But then, Sam had never kept him up past four in the morning before, either. This was the seventh time the phone had rung since midnight … and he doubted it would be the last. He hadn’t answered any of the calls. He couldn’t even bring himself to
move.
Thank God the door was closed. He could only guess what he looked like: wearing a pair of flimsy boxer shorts, hair in disarray, shivering but bathed in sweat. Like a lunatic. Somebody who should be removed from society and tossed in a padded room.
    Actually, that didn’t sound so bad. If he were institutionalized, then he’d never have to face Ella again—
    â€œUnplug that phone or I’m gonna break down this door and unplug it for you!” Mike shouted.
    Of course. Sam shook his head. He didn’t have to torture himself or his suite mates. He could just unplug the phone. Why hadn’t
he
thought of that?
Maybe because I’m losing my mind.
With a grunt he forced himself up and ripped the cord out of the wall in midring.
    â€œSorry,” he called.
    Mike didn’t answer. He simply stomped away.
    Add one more person to the list of people who hate Sam Moon.
A bitter smile crossed his face as he sank down onto his unmade bed and ran a clammy hand through his hair. It was pitiful. Aside from a psychotic, thirty-year-old nymphomaniac who was destroying his life, who actually
liked
him? Not Mike, obviously—although he’d probably get over it. Sam’s lab partners were getting fed up with him, too. He’d been blowing them off since Christmas. And his girlfriend? They barely even spoke. If he didn’t officially end things with Heather soon, it would probably be only a matter of time before
she
dumped
him.
    That left Gaia.
    Right. After tonight Gaia probably wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him, either. Of course she wouldn’t. He’d left her in the park—where she’d beenattacked—then dumped her unceremoniously on her front stoop after she’d keeled over. A hell of a dinner, wasn’t it?
    His eyes flashed to the phone. Maybe he should just call her. Maybe
she
had been the one who was calling and calling all night. It was possible, wasn’t it? Yeah, right. It was also possible that the queen of England was calling, too. He knew damn well who it had been. The psycho. The foster mom. He couldn’t bring himself even to
think
her name. And if he called that house, chances were very good that
she
would answer the phone.
    So. Once again he found himself back where he started. Ground zero. Having confessed nothing. In the same state of panic. At this rate he was going to have an ulcer before he turned twenty-one. For all he knew, Ella had already told Gaia everything. Maybe she’d found Heather and told
her,
too. Anything could happen.
    But that wasn’t what terrified him the most.
    No … what terrified him the most was that a part of him—a subconscious part, buried deep within the darkest reaches of his psyhe—might want that to happen. A part of him might secretly long for Ella to tell Gaia the truth. Because in a way, that would let Sam off the hook. And wasn’t