“What makes you think I lied to him?” I shrugged. “I can tell.” He gave me a funny look, then said, “That’s downright psychic, Kavanaugh.” “You did lie to him.” “So what if I did?” “What about?” “Nothing you need to worry your pretty little head about,” he said, starting to walk again. I hustled to keep up with him. “Maybe I want to worry about it. Because it’s got something to do with me, doesn’t it?” “Exactly why you don’t need to worry about it,” he said, pushing the door open and letting the sunlight stream across my eyes. I rummaged in my bag for my sunglasses and stuck them on as I followed him, not even a step behind. “You can’t be serious that you’re not going to tell me.” “You’ll tell your brother.” “No, I won’t,” I said quickly, before realizing that if it was important, I might have to go back on that promise. He saw my expression change. “There,” he said, pointing at my face. “I knew it.” It was a little scary how well we knew each other.
