One of Us Is Lying by Karen M. McManus Read Online (FREE)
Originally published: May 29, 2017
Author: Karen M. McManus
Page count: 368
Country: United States
Genres: Young adult fiction, Mystery
Nominations: Goodreads Choice Awards Best Young Adult Fiction
Read One of Us Is Lying by Karen M. McManus full novel online free here.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Karen M. McManus earned her BA in English from the College of the Holy Cross and her MA in journalism from Northeastern University. When she isn’t working or writing in Cambridge, Massachusetts, McManus loves to travel with her son. One of Us Is Lying is her debut novel. To learn more about her, visit her website, www.karenmcmanus.com, or follow her on Twitter at @writerkmc.
who always makes me laugh
Monday, September 24, 2:55 p.m.
A sex tape. A pregnancy scare. Two cheating scandals. And that’s just this week’s update. If all you knew of Bayview High was Simon Kelleher’s gossip app, you’d wonder how anyone found time to go to class.
“Old news, Bronwyn,” says a voice over my shoulder. “Wait till you see tomorrow’s post.”
Damn. I hate getting caught reading About That, especially by its creator. I lower my phone and slam my locker shut. “Whose lives are you ruining next, Simon?”
Simon falls into step beside me as I move against the flow of students heading for the exit. “It’s a public service,” he says with a dismissive wave. “You tutor Reggie Crawley, don’t you? Wouldn’t you rather know he has a camera in his bedroom?”
I don’t bother answering. Me getting anywhere near the bedroom of perpetual stoner Reggie Crawley is about as likely as Simon growing a conscience.
“Anyway, they bring it on themselves. If people didn’t lie and cheat, I’d be out of business.” Simon’s cold blue eyes take in my lengthening strides. “Where are you rushing off to? Covering yourself in extracurricular glory?”
I wish. As if to taunt me, an alert crosses my phone: Mathlete practice, 3 p.m., Epoch Coffee. Followed by a text from one of my teammates: Evan’s here.
Of course he is. The cute Mathlete—less of an oxymoron than you might think—seems to only ever show up when I can’t.
“Not exactly,” I say. As a general rule, and especially lately, I try to give Simon as little information as possible. We push through green metal doors to the back stairwell, a dividing line between the dinginess of the original Bayview High and its bright, airy new wing. Every year more wealthy families get priced out of San Diego and come fifteen miles east to Bayview, expecting that their tax dollars will buy them a nicer school experience than popcorn ceilings and scarred linoleum.
Simon’s still on my heels when I reach Mr. Avery’s lab on the third floor, and I half turn with my arms crossed. “Don’t you have someplace to be?”
“Yeah. Detention,” Simon says, and waits for me to keep walking. When I grasp the knob instead, he bursts out laughing. “You’re kidding me. You too? What’s your crime?”