Liar Liar Read Free

books.
    â€œComic books? I don’t read comic books,” I said.
    â€œYou borrowed them!” Jake cried. “You borrowed them last week. You said you’d return them!”
    â€œI never borrowed any comic books. Get lost,” I said.
    Why do I torture Jake like that? I don’t know. I had the comic books in my bottom desk drawer. I could just hand them back to him. But I wanted to make him work for them.
    He deserves it. He’s such a whiner. And he never helps me out.
    Last week I wanted to go hang out with some guys at the Planet Hollywood over on Wilshire. I begged Jake to tell Mom and Dad that I went to Sharma’s house to study chemistry.
    But he wouldn’t do it. “I can’t tell a lie!” he said.
    â€œWhy not?” I asked him.
    â€œBecause it’s not right.”
    That’s why I enjoy torturing him.
    â€œI know where the comics are,” he said. He dived past me and pulled open the bottom desk drawer. “There!”
    I started to protest when I heard Dad’s voice from downstairs. “Ross—get down here!”
    Uh-oh. He sounded angry. Really angry.
    I picked up the stack of comics and heaved them at Jake. Then I slowly made my way downstairs. “You called me?” I asked in a tiny voice.
    Dad had his cell phone gripped tightly in one hand. “I have Mort on the phone,” he said, scowling at me. “Mort says he changed his mind about working with me. He found the broken Oscar.”
    My mouth dropped open. “Oscar? What Oscar?”
    â€œRoss, I told you not to touch anything. I told you what a nut Mort is about his stuff. He found the Oscar pieces shoved under the couch.”
    â€œBut … I sat on the couch the whole time,” I said, my heart leaping around in my chest, my mouth suddenly dry. “I never saw any Oscar.”
    Dad said something into the phone, then clicked it off. He glared angrily at me. “You were the only one in the office.”
    â€œNo,” I replied. “Actually, a cleaning lady came in. Uh … two cleaning ladies, and I saw them dusting the shelves. I—”
    Mom came in, carrying a load of shopping bags. “What’s going on?”
    â€œRoss is standing here, dissing me. He’s lying to my face,” Dad said, shaking his head. “Lying to my face!”
    Mom sighed and let the bags drop to the carpet. “Ross,” she whispered. “You’re making up stories again?”
    â€œNo—” I started.
    â€œPunish him!” Jake cried from the top of the stairs. “Punish him!”
    â€œThis is serious, Ross,” Dad said, rolling the cell phone in his hand. “Very serious. You may have just lost me millions of dollars. You do have to be punished for this.”
    â€œCut off his hand!” Jake shouted.
    Mom gasped. “Jake! Where did you get a horrible idea like that?”
    â€œIt’s what they do to liars,” Jake said. “In some country somewhere. I learned it in school. Cut off his hand!”
    Mom shook her head. “Well, we’re not going to do that.”
    â€œNo, we’re not,” Dad said. “We’re going to do something much worse.”

“You’re grounded,” Dad said.
    He slapped the cell phone against his palm as if it was a policeman’s club. “You’ve got to stop being so dishonest all the time.”
    â€œBut I’m not!” I protested. “I—”
    â€œYou’re grounded until I say you’re not,” Dad said sharply. Slap slap slap. The phone against his hand.
    I swallowed hard. “But—what about Max’s swim party Friday night? A lot of people are counting on me!” (Mainly the two girls I asked to go with me!)
    â€œSorry, Ross,” Mom said softly. “You’ll just have to miss it.”
    â€œBut—I’ve learned my lesson!” I cried. “I’ll never lie again. I