Lies I Tell Myself

Lies I Tell Myself

In this “heartfelt, emotionally insightful” ( Kirkus Reviews ), and funny companion to the acclaimed To Tell You the Truth , Raymond has a life-changing summer when he’s sent to Maine to stay with the grandparents he’s never met. Raymond has always preferred to keep life simple and leave adventuring to other people. But then he’s sent across the country, against his will, to spend the summer before fifth grade with grandparents who think he’s “troubled” and needs to have playdates set up for him. Determined to show everyone how brave, confident, and un troubled he can be, Raymond hatches a three-step plan: 1) Learn to ride a bike. His mom never got around to teaching him before she left. 2) Learn how to swim. 3) Make friends. On his own. But can Raymond really change, or is this whole plan just a bunch of lies he’s telling himself? With the help of his great-grandfather’s old journal, a feral chicken, and a possibly imaginary new friend, Raymond might just overcome his fears and figure out who he really wants to be. *A Junior Library Guild Selection* "This heartfelt, emotionally insightful companion to To Tell You the Truth (2021) is . . . proof positive that an open heart can overcome hurt." ― Kirkus Reviews “It’s an equally rewarding and adventurous story, remarkable in the way it allows characters to stretch and grow. . . . A humorous and honest exploration of deep family ties, unexpected friendships, and the gift of growing self-knowledge.” ― Booklist "The author takes care that no one, child or adult, comes across as all good or all bad. Readers don’t need to be familiar with the previous book to enjoy this story of a boy learning who he is. Recommended." ― School Library Journal Beth Vrabel is the award-winning author of A Blind Guide to Stinkville , A Blind Guide to Normal , and the Pack of Dorks series. She can't clap to the beat or be trusted around Nutella, but indulges in both often, much to the dismay of her family. She lives in the Dallas, Texas area. First Lie: I’m Fine. FIRST LIE: I’M FINE. I’m fine. Except for the chicken on my head. I was pretty sure she hated me. You know what? All I’d ever wanted was a simple life. Maybe some folks desired excitement and adventure. Maybe they wanted summers full of surprises and unnecessary relationships with animals. Not me. No, thank you. Not everyone needed to be onstage, the way my dad and my sister, Sara, always seemed to crave. They could have that puddle of light. But know who didn’t want the spotlight? Me, Raymond Crickett. I didn’t need excitement. My best friend, Trixy, was a magnet for all sorts of trouble. I was in it deep when she was around. I’d bet she’d get this chicken off my head and put it on her own in three seconds flat. But Sara, Dad, and even Trixy were nineteen hundred miles away, and that was fine. I had been sitting on the porch, contemplating the series of events that led to me being here in Winter’s Peak, when the chicken shot out of the woods. I thought maybe it wanted to be petted, so I had bent over. But no. This chicken wanted to be a hat. Now it was on my head. The chicken was clucking. It was clucking! Though having Trixy around in this specific moment would’ve been great for chicken removal purposes, she and I for sure needed this break from each other. She was my only real friend, and I couldn’t always say I liked her all that much. She was bossy and self-centered, and it was because of her that Dad’s bluegrass band had gotten tons of attention last fall. His Wayward Music Festival performance clip went viral due to Trixy and me busting onto the stage just beforehand. That was partially why I was here. My grandparents saw that clip and invited Sara and me to spend a few weeks in the summer with them, right around the same time that Dad’s fancy new agent booked him a two-week tour of Texas in July. Trixy was back home in Oklahoma, where I belonged. And Sara? She was supposed to come with me. But then she went and got into a summer camp in Omaha with a performing arts studio, which apparently was more “important” and “possibly life changing” than a trip to dull old Winter’s Peak, Maine. Why was I here? For real, who wanted to go to Maine? No one, that’s who. The more I saw of this place, the more I knew no one would choose to give up precious school-free days here. And I’d only arrived three days ago! No one wanted to go to a place where the beaches looked like piles of rocks. No one wanted to stay with grandparents they didn’t rightly remember, since their daughter (my mom) up and left all of us six years earlier. Grandparents who didn’t want to be referred to by anything normal, such as Mammaw and Pappaw, like Dad’s folks, but instead said I could call them Gigi and Jack. I was rolling my eyes again. Chicken dug her talons in. I guessed maybe I moved my head too much. “I’m sorry, Chicken.” What was wrong with me? I’d just apologized to a chicken. Chicken baa’ck