Free The Safest Lies by Megan Miranda Page B

it onto my bed. I wasn’t sure whether my mom had some sort of alert set up, but better to play it safe. Either she had ESP for when I diverted from my route (like the time she called when I took the wrong exit and went an extra ten miles before I noticed, or the time I craved a burger and drove until I found one, with the newfound freedom of my driver’s license), or she actively tracked me whenever she knew I was out, or—and this was what I was worried about—she had a perimeter set up that sent an alert to her computer when I wandered out of it.

    I counted down, and tried not to think—not to let myself hear all the maybes circle and dig and circle some more. It was my mother’s voice, my mother’s warnings, my mother’s fears, I reminded myself.
    Not my own.
    And then I jumped.
    I braced for impact, crouching low, expecting some unknown alarm to sound—but there was nothing. I eased the metal window grate shut, but couldn’t lock it from the outside. The front lights were off, which meant she was probably back in her room, or in the living room, watching TV. Maybe the office. Hopefully, she wouldn’t hear the gate. Hopefully, she wouldn’t see the green light next to the front door for the thirty-second span that it remained unlocked.
    I hit the code in the keypad beside the fence, and the gates eased open, the mechanical gears humming in the still night. I slipped through the opening as soon as I could, then crouched in the bushes, counting to thirty. Counting, and watching the front door.
    But nothing happened.
    No alarm, no yelling, no Mom.
    I was free.
    —
    Annika was waiting for me in her driveway, leaning against the blue sedan that she and her brother shared when they were home from school, texting on her phone. I’d had to take the long way—down my street, right on the main neighborhood road, right again on her street, which backed to mine—instead of hopping the wall connecting the backs of our properties. She jumped at the sound of rocks kicking up in her driveway as I jogged toward her.

    “Well,” she said, slouching against the hood, one hand on her hip, “look who’s the little rebel. Honestly, after you hung up I wasn’t sure if you’d actually show.” She wore leggings and boots and a dress with lace trim, and I felt completely unpresentable in dark jeans and a nice shirt.
    She handed me the keys.
    “You’re not coming?” I asked.
    “Change of plans,” she said, smiling. “I have a date. His name is Eli, and he does landscaping work in the neighborhood, and I think I’m in love.”
    “I’ve never heard of any Eli.”
    “Well, I kind of just met him. But we only have the week, so we’re on an accelerated schedule.” She smiled.
    She slid her phone out of a disguised pocket in her dress, scrolled through, and pulled up his contact— Eli. His photo showed a slightly hooked nose and deep-set eyes, a bunch of mismatched parts that somehow worked together. He was looking off to the side, and his mouth was open, like he was caught midsentence, and he was vaguely squinting into the sun. Annika did this—took stealth pictures of people for her phone. Mine, I once saw, was me from a distance, sitting on the stone wall, head tipped back and eyes closed. “Stalker much?” I’d said to her the first time I saw it. But the truth was, it was my favorite picture of me that existed. For one thing, I was outside. For another, I looked completely carefree and at peace. In truth, I think I’d been about to sneeze. But, like a magician, she had somehow captured the essence of the person I wanted to be instead.

    “He’s picking me up at eight,” Annika said. “Just do me a favor and bring this baby back in one piece.”
    “You’re giving me your car?” I asked.
    “No, I’m not giving you my car. I’m letting you drive it. Figure you’ve already driven off a cliff once, what’re the chances of that happening again?”
    “Not funny,” I mumbled.
    “Too soon?” She nudged