Said the Liar by A. Swift (free ebook reader for ipad txt) 📖

to come up and tell them that the new law is fantastic, it would be Rusey. They'd resist accepting what I'd said. Since they already are stuck to a conclusion, there isn't a lot of wiggle room for thought. Have you ever tried to have a conversation with a brick wall? Yeah, you don't really get anywhere. There are limits to Lying.

            More than anything I didn't want anyone to know what I could do. Can you imagine the uproar that might happen? How would you like it if you found out that there was someone out there who could say whatever they wanted and get away with it? I knew enough that I didn't want to get found out. No thank you. That meant I had to be careful and conservative with my lies. Sometimes unintended consequences can come up. You say one thing one day and months later it comes back to haunt you.

            I could probably use my lying to get rich really quickly. It wouldn't last long, though. People would get suspicious. There are limits to being convincing.

            Huh. Since I can even say the truth and have it be believed, I guess it's not just a lying skill. That's what I call it, though. It fits better than anything else.

            The September moon was mostly obscured by a sheet of gray clouds, and it made interesting shadows than came and went as the light was covered and uncovered again. It was pretty dark when the moonlight couldn't get through. I had to watch my step in the riverbed or I'd wind up doing a face plant. There's a bunch of trash in parts of the path.

            A group of six kids near where I lived thought for a while that it was funny to steal bikes and throw them into the ditch. Then they started thinking it was funny to throw people in the ditch. This went on for a few months, and quite a collection started forming. Not of people. Of bikes and other crap they found and could manage to move.

            Three of the kids got busted by the cops and the bike stealing stopped, but the people throwing didn't stop until a kid broke his collar bone. One or two of the bikes are still there in the dirt and leaves.

            That was only two months ago during summer. I knew four of the six kids who were involved because they were regulars at the warehouse now and still bragged about the neat stuff they'd been able to get away with for so long. I didn't get why you'd want to tell everyone about something illegal you'd been doing, wasn't that just begging for you to be caught? If I stole things, I wouldn't go blabbing about it.

            The ditch is pretty quiet nowadays, though. I think some of the cops still patrol it now and again and make sure no hooligans are doing anything dangerous or illegal around. They're wasting their time though because everyone wizened up and knows better than to hang out where cops are watching. Nobody is dumb enough to pull the same prank twice in the same spot after they've been caught before.

            So it's a very quiet place now.

            A dark, cool, and quiet path. I liked that about the ditch. I liked that I was the only person who used it anymore. It was a one-man highway from the tracks to the back part of the park by my apartment. All in all it's more than a mile from my place to the warehouse, but I wouldn't have minded if it was longer. A quiet walk in the dark is relaxing, even more so when you know you're totally alone and nobody is within earshot or eyesight. I kicked up some leaves from time to time because why not? Nobody was around to hear and it was something to do. I swear the ditch gets so many leaves in it that it's like those are the river instead of water.

            To climb out of the ditch is harder than to get into it, once winter really came there would be a lot of ice at the bottom, too. That made it Rusey to get back up.

            Right now it was clear. There's a little gap between a big bush I don't know the name of and this pair of birch trees. At least I think they're birch trees. I've never really thought about what they were. Trees are trees, and they weren't poisonous and they didn't fall down when I used them for support climbing up. That's all that mattered to me.

            I put my hand on a gnarly root and used it to boost myself up towards the two trees, and then caught onto one of the trunks and hopped onto the bank where it wasn't so steep. The place where I typically climb up comes out behind the park proper, beyond the fence line. Sometimes I climb the fence to get home more quickly, but tonight I took my time and simply followed the fence around to the other side and then crossed onto the sidewalk. From there it was a short walk to the complex and in what felt like no time at all I was in the shadow of my building. It was brightly lit by a streetlight and a pair of heavy duty type outdoor lamps on the brick wall itself. Nothing special, fancy, or exciting. Typical fifteen year old apartment building on a typical old street by a typical old park. There's a row of covered parking stalls on the back of the place, and some little decorative plants in front, but that's about all the distinguishing features I could name.

            Next door to the right of the apartments is a little motel. The other side obviously bordered the park, and across the street was some more cheap housing. People-filled buildings everywhere.

            A gust of wind brought some fallen leaves clattering over, and they scuttled in a little circle by the stairwell to join a growing pile of trash and other fallen debris. Something about the building's location or construction made the spot a wind pocket. I can't tell you how many pieces of homework, water bottles, and even the occasional mitten or sock have ended up there. Sometimes the landlord or one of the other tenants would actually sweep the corner out, but it never stayed clean for long. The wind reminded me that it was definitely fall, and I was glad that I had my hoodie. It was a good dark green one, so dark that it was almost black. The logo was all worn off, so it didn't even show when I was in the shadows. I blended in well with the deep colors of night.

            I scaled the stairs as quietly as I could. Some of my neighbors wouldn't hesitate to chew my ear off for making noise past midnight. The irony was that one of the old ladies on my floor has this really annoying little dog that barks almost every freaking time I walk past the door. If I was really lucky and particularly careful, I could get past the door without the entire floor knowing. I was that lucky maybe one night out of seven, or if I really really tried to not make a single sound on my way to my door.

            My tennis shoes made just the slightest noise on the iron stairs, making a kind of hollow metallic echo. I could actually tell who was coming up the stairs sometimes because of the sound their feet make. Did you know that everyone walks differently? Well it's true. I think I read somewhere that a person's gait is as unique as their fingerprint if you know what to look for. I walked quickly and quietly up the flights of stairs, minimizing the noise of my feet hitting the steps with the ease of long practice. It was just as well nobody could recognize my footsteps coming up.

            Third floor. That was me. I tread my way silently into the hall, skirting against the far wall from the yippy dog's house.

            Luck was on my side. Maybe the stupid thing was asleep. It didn't utter a single high-pitched bark as I passed. I picked up the pace and got to my door. Apartment number 1608, that's mine and my parent's.

            When it's super quiet every little sound makes you perk up and wonder who else can hear it. The sound of my key in the lock was like a car alarm. I could hear each scrape of metal on metal and the lock shifting was a heavy sound. At least the door hinges weren't squeaky. I made it inside pretty inconspicuously, and everything was looking good...

            ....Except for that my mom was sitting in the living room reading a book. She was in our big green sofa chair with the lamp on. Waiting for me.

            I hated when she did that because I always felt guilty for being caught getting in so late. She lost sleep over me, and that wasn't cool. I wished she would just relax and let me come home in the dark. Instinctively I prepared to defend myself and explain where I'd been so that she didn't get upset with me.

            She saw me come in and closed the book. Her eyes were a little tired, but she didn't look worried or upset. Good signs. But then, mom rarely gets shouting mad. She's more of a silent worrier and guilt trip kind of mother. I would have preferred her to get angry. At least with outright anger and arguing both parties get involved and get to say their bit. Later after fights like that each person has cause to apologize. With guilt trips I was the only one feeling like I'd done something wrong.

            My dad says we look kind of alike, mom and I. We both have naturally tanned skin and good features. Unlike her, my eyes weren't brown though. I had my dad's gray eyes. For a brief moment we stared at each other's eyes.

            "Hey, Kolt. You're home pretty late." She wasn't accusing. She wasn't suspicious. Just anxious about me.

            I glanced at the microwave clock. Our living room, entry, and kitchen all share the same space. From where I stood I could see the entire room at the same time. Our apartment isn't very big, but it's in good repair. There are only three bedrooms, one bathroom, and then the living room/kitchen area. There are only the three of us so it's plenty of space. Especially since we're all out most of the time. Things are almost always clean, too, because nobody is home to make any messes all day.

            The microwave showed me that it was almost one. To my thinking it wasn't even that late at all. Sometimes I was out until three. I was turning in early tonight by comparison. Mom didn't know about a lot of my excursions. I was happy to keep it that way. Less stress for me, mom, and dad. Again, I was definitely for keeping my warehouse activities a mystery from my home life. Mom and dad worry enough about things. They wouldn't understand why I wanted to a derelict warehouse at two in the morning.

            To avoid looking at my mom's face I went over to the refrigerator and pulled the door open before answering. I was starved anyway.

            "I was just at Leon's, we lost track of time." I pulled the milk jug from its place and set it on the counter, then retrieved a bowl, spoon, and some cornflakes. Food in hand I migrated to the kitchen table and sat down.

            "What were you guys up to this time?" Mom asked me. She seemed relieved to find out that that's where I'd been. Of course, that wasn't where I'd been. Just because