Rules of Lying (Jane Dough Series) by Stephie Smith Page B

proportions. Nicole would say she and Steve had been forced to forgo a much-needed vacation, the lack of which would be blamed for causing Steve’s poor health, as if his two-pack-a-day cigarette habit had nothing to do with that. Katherine and John would lament the money they could have put away for retirement, as though they were capable of not spending every cent they made.
    The other thing that irritated me was that my family cared more about what everyone else thought than they did about my happiness. They weren’t offering to loan me the money to help me out. They only wanted their embarrassment to go away.
    “Jane, for once in your life, think about someone else. Maybe you hope these articles will help your writing career, but we’re tired of putting up with the humiliation.”
    That was it. I’d had it. The nerve of them telling me to think of someone else when they were only thinking of themselves. The nerve of them pretending to have my interests at heart, of pretending to bring food to help me out, and then letting Mom make me feel guilty about what I ate.
    I marched over to the brownies, grabbed two, and shoved them, one after the other, into my mouth. Uh-oh. I had lots to scream about, but no screaming could happen while I had a mouth full of brownies. I stared, bug-eyed, at my mother and each sister in turn as I chewed and swallowed as fast as I could. Everyone was staring bug-eyed back at me.
    “You think I like having reporters write all this crap about me?” I choked out after my last swallow. I looked from one to the other again and I could see it in their eyes. They did.
    “I’ve been going along, minding my own business since I moved back, and then suddenly I’m in the paper. Yes, I put a sign in my yard advertising for a husband, but I had nothing to do with the classified ad.” Katherine raised her eyebrows at Nicole, who shrugged. No one would ever believe I didn’t put the ad in the paper, so I moved on.
    “And Mom is the one who told all those stories about my past to the reporters. If she hadn’t, I wouldn’t have had to sneak out of the doctor’s office, but somehow, once again, I’m the one who gets the blame.”
    I was letting off some steam and it felt pretty good. No, it felt about damned time good. Maybe I would change the way I dealt with family. Maybe I’d let everyone know exactly how I felt every time they did something that pissed me off instead of keeping it inside and simmering with anger. There was a lot to be said for clearing the air.
    The phone rang at just that instant, and the answering machine clicked on. “Ms. Dough, this is Palmeroy Times addressing your complaint regarding the articles about you.”
    “Ha!” I said, jabbing my finger in the air toward the answering machine. Perfect timing, I was thinking. I couldn’t have planned it better. Now my family would know I didn’t want the articles or the publicity and like it or not, they would all have to eat crow.
    “As I already explained to you,” said the woman, “since you placed that classified ad, you can’t really complain about our journalist writing a story about it. And as far as the python article goes, you were paid fifty dollars for that.”
    Katherine gasped and her eyes rounded in horror.
    “But that’s not true!” I shouted over the woman’s voice. Anything to drown her out. She was only making matters worse. “I only got paid for the title, not the story! I didn’t have anything to do with the story. And I didn’t run that ad; that woman is lying!”
    “Yes, that’s right, Jane. Everyone is lying but you,” Nicole said with a disgusted shake of her head. “Come on,” she told everyone else. “Let’s go. There’s no point in wasting our time here. Jane will never care about anyone but herself.”
    There was nothing I could do but let everyone walk out on me. Well, nothing except grab the plate of brownies that Marci was making off with, which I did.
    My mother slid me a