Chapter Two
Liv was so going to kill her. Mandy made her first flight from Austin by some kind of miracle, but when she got to Vegas, she didn’t
realize she had to take a bus to a different airport to catch the puddle jumper to the South Rim of the Grand Canyon. Which
left her mid-conversation with the Cinnabon cashier about her teenage son’s Pokémon addiction when the bus rolled away without
her.
Crap. Her phone was at 3 percent. Somehow Mandy’s phone sucked up battery faster than other people’s, or it just vibed with
the way she flew through life’s tornado, especially in the summer, when she was no longer coaxing creativity from moody teenagers
one fifty-two-minute class period at a time. She’d kicked off June at an all-night bonfire rave where she’d burned her school
year planner. Since then, she’d relished losing track of what day it was, let alone the hour. But sister trips required getting
back on schedule, or trying to. She found the number for the bus company and took a deep breath. Charm offensives at 3 percent
required serious lung capacity.
The call connected, and she plunged in, channeling her inner cheerleader. “Hi! My name’s Mandy Chisholm, and I’m here at the
Vegas airport to catch your transporter to the South Rim.”
“That bus has already left the terminals.”
“I’m afraid there was a misunderstanding, a lack of clarity about where I was supposed to meet the driver—”
“Our materials clearly state—”
“You’re right. I’m a dingbat and I apologize and I’m sorry if I sound out of breath, but I’ve been running to try to flag
the bus down, and it’s really hot out here, and my father—”
“There will be another bus at eight thirty p.m.”
“My father, he disappeared years ago, and now all of a sudden he reached out to me, and he says he has something important
to tell me, and I have to catch this bus to see him because I’m afraid . . . I’m afraid he might be dying.”
This was, of course, not true. Technically, it was possible—Mandy’s dad was full of surprises, and he’d been living life at
double speed since he’d gotten out of prison seven years ago. It was just as likely he was knocking on death’s door at a Grand
Canyon motor lodge as it was that he was spearfishing off his new girlfriend’s yacht in the Maldives. Or did he say Belize?
Wherever Guy Chisholm was, he wasn’t her concern right now. What was her concern was how pissed Liv would be if Mandy missed the welcome briefing for their trip. But she couldn’t tell the minibus
dispatcher she was scared of her big sister looking at her like the defective peanut at the bottom of the can. There was no
upside in a truth like that.
Two percent. She coughed up a sob and gave it one more shot. “This might be the last time I can talk to my dad. Sir, I know
the bus has left, but I’m hoping, please, I’m begging you . . .”
There was a long pause on the other side of the line.
“I’ve contacted the driver. He’ll take another lap around.”
Mandy gave a grateful squeal and ended the call just before her phone blinked off of its own accord.
“You poor dear.” The Cinnabon lady was gazing at her with tears in her eyes. “I know this won’t fix it, but sometimes a bit
of sweetness helps . . .”
By the time the shuttle pulled up at the curb, Mandy had finished a free caramel pecan MiniBon and trashed the sticky evidence.
She gave the driver her biggest razzle-dazzle grin and reached for his arm with a loud, grateful “you SAVED me.” Then she beamed her smile all over, like a kid throwing candy at a parade, charming her inconvenienced fellow travelers until they were all smiling about the epic win they had accomplished together.
This was what Liv didn’t understand about lying. When you did it properly, it didn’t hurt anyone. It was a gift that sprinkled
magic on people’s ho-hum days. Take this bus driver, who was now pumping Mandy’s hand like he’d earned a Purple Heart by circling
the terminals. Or the older man who was patting Mandy’s shoulder and looking down her shirt and whispering that she was a
gem for trying to reconnect with her father. Everyone on the bus was waking up. They were brightening. They were all in on
this big adventure together. And Mandy had made that possible.
That was the power of a good lie. It made people feel bigger than their ordinary selves. The truth was dingy. It was complicated.
It didn’t get you complimentary pecan rolls or extra laps around the airport. The truth wouldn’t set you free. Only a lie
could do that.