The Secret Identity Of Devon Delaney - Plot & Excerpts
I mean, who hasn’t? But they were small lies. White lies. Lies that wouldn’t hurt anyone, and that no one even really knew were lies. Like when I told my friend Nicole last year at the sixth-grade dance that no one could see her underwear through her dress, even though everyone totally could, especially when the revolving lights passed over where we were standing. (By then, Nicole’s mom had already dropped us off and gone home, so unless Nicole wanted to change into her gym clothes or find someone who had an extra, non-underwear-exposing dress hanging around, there was nothing anyone could do about it.) Or when I tell my grandma that her spaghetti sauce is the best I’ve ever tasted, even though I like the sauce they use at Bertucci’s way better. Or the time my mom asked if I was feeding tuna to the cat, and I told her I wasn’t, even though I was. She couldn’t figure out why he was gaining so much weight when he was on his lean kibble, but since the vet said he’s perfectly healthy, I figured giving him tuna wasn’t a big deal.
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