CHAPTER SUMMARY
Sometimes I Lieby Alice Feeney

Chapter 56-60 Summary

Opening

Amber’s buried past and fractured present finally lock together. A childhood diary exposes a narrator who performs grief, manipulates caretakers, and targets her way into a new family. In the present, Amber remembers Christmas Day—she wasn’t driving, the crash isn’t an accident—and wakes, setting the stage for a reckoning that turns memory into action.


What Happens

Before: Chapter 56 (Thursday, January 7, 1993)

A child’s diary entry, written just after the fire that killed her parents, strips away any pretense of innocence. She attends the funeral, noting that her estranged godmother, Madeline Frost, doesn’t come. She admits she fakes her tears and feels relieved her parents are gone; the only real loss is her Nana’s house, now Madeline’s. The chapter plants the book’s starkest seed of Deception and Unreliable Narration: she tells us, plainly, she performs emotions for effect.

She then explains how she engineers her new life. “Taylor,” whom the reader understands is a young Claire, is traumatized by the fire—nightmares, obsessive lip-picking—yet the diarist finds her “annoying” and threatens her into silence about a secret. The social worker, Beth, is easy to fool. When she learns she may be sent to a children’s home because Madeline won’t take her, she stages grief for Beth’s hidden camera and choreographs sobs loud enough for Taylor’s mother to hear. The plan works: Taylor’s parents discuss fostering her. The entry becomes an origin story of calculated charm and Manipulation and Control, sliding empathy off the page.

Now: Chapter 57 (Monday, January 2, 2017)

Amber Reynolds drifts toward consciousness, realizing Edward Clarke failed to kill her. Thoughts of this hospital drag up older grief: her grandmother’s death once ignited Claire’s rage, sending the sisters after Madeline. “Destroying Madeline became Claire’s obsession, which in turn became mine”—a private vow that turns grief into Justice and Revenge. Amber frames her OCD as a coping mechanism and recalls how her parents preferred Claire, “the pretty, grade-A replacement daughter.”

In the room, she hears Claire apologizing for not believing her about Edward, then Claire and Paul Reynolds whisper that Edward is on the run. The name unlocks everything: Amber remembers Edward assaulting her in the hospital and understands Paul saw it on the camera he installed. Then the dam breaks—Christmas Day returns. “I can remember the night of the accident… It wasn’t me driving on Christmas Day and it wasn’t an accident at all.” The novel’s central assumption collapses.

Then: Chapter 58 (Christmas Day 2016—Early evening)

Back in the living room after Christmas dinner, Paul asks for whisky. Amber, wary of his history with alcohol, deflects, ready to tell him she’s pregnant. He ruins the moment by saying he’s glad they don’t have children. He also reveals he told Claire about his book deal and their impending trip to America—exactly the kind of independence Amber fears will trigger her sister’s possessiveness.

The fatal spark: Paul has been reading Claire’s childhood diaries and quoted a line back to her—“two peas in a pod.” Amber is horrified; this breach will wake the worst in Claire. The sisters’ bond curdles into the purest form of Sisterhood and Toxic Relationships. Amber tries to call Claire, smashes Paul’s phone when he reaches for it, grabs the car keys. In a frantic exit she slams the car door on his hand and tears into the rain to head off her sister.

Now: Chapter 59 (Tuesday, January 3, 2017)

Amber hears Claire leave her hospital room. Paul tells Claire, “This isn’t your fault,” but Amber thinks, “This is Claire’s fault. Everything that is wrong with my life is Claire’s fault,” saturating the room with Guilt and Blame. Paul holds Amber’s hand, apologizing for failing to protect her. Compassion surges through her; she thinks I love you—and says it out loud. On that effort, she forces her eyes open. Amber is awake.

Then: Chapter 60 (Christmas Day 2016—Evening)

At Claire’s house, Claire waits on the porch, composed. Inside, Amber lies that she burned the diaries; Claire doesn’t buy it. She repeats Paul’s fatal line with surgical precision—“Two. Peas. In. A. Pod.”—and the tension snaps Amber’s body. Pain bites, blood runs down her leg: she is miscarrying.

Claire’s face registers “awe and disgust.” She fixates on why Amber kept the pregnancy a secret—“We used to tell each other everything”—and then moves straight to logistics. She dismisses the bleeding, demands the car keys, insists she’ll drive Amber to the hospital because it’s faster than an ambulance. Shocked and in agony, Amber hands her the keys—the moment that yields the crash.


Character Development

The façade breaks. We see the family drama not as a simple rivalry but as a long con intersecting with an equally dangerous need for control. Awakening in the present transforms Amber from a locked-in narrator to a player in the unfolding endgame.

  • Amber Reynolds: The 1993 diary reframes her as a calculating child who manufactures care and safety by performing grief. In the present, she pieces together her assault, reclaims her memory of the crash, and literally opens her eyes—shifting from passive observer to active agent, even as love for Paul complicates her anger.
  • Claire: First seen as “Taylor,” a traumatized child in Amber’s shadow, she later emerges as cool, possessive, and chillingly practical. Her reaction to the miscarriage—control over comfort—confirms she treats intimacy as territory to defend.
  • Paul Reynolds: A past struggle with alcohol and a well-meaning but catastrophic breach—reading the diaries and quoting them—place him at the center of the tragedy. His remorse and tenderness at Amber’s bedside steady him as the most transparently human figure here.

Themes & Symbols

The diary detonates the novel’s pact with the reader: Deception and Unreliable Narration is not a twist but a condition. The child narrator rehearses grief, studies adults, and scripts outcomes. Those tactics echo forward—staged scenes, weaponized secrets—until the novel itself becomes a performance the reader must interrogate.

The sisters’ bond curdles into ownership. “Two peas in a pod” turns from cliché to threat, a symbol of Sisterhood and Toxic Relationships where sameness demands loyalty and punishes deviation. Control is the currency: Amber choreographs caretakers; Claire commandeers the car. The past and present finally align as Memory and Reality converge—the “Then” and “Now” timelines braid into a single chain of cause and effect. Around them, Manipulation and Control guide every choice, and Guilt and Blame flood the hospital room, even as the 1993 narrator’s chilling lack of guilt sets her apart. Their campaign against Madeline channels grief into Justice and Revenge, revealing how righteous anger can mask personal vendettas.

Symbols:

  • “Two peas in a pod”: A weaponized refrain that marks intimacy turned hostile.
  • The keys: Power transferred at Amber’s weakest moment.
  • The diary: A manual for control masquerading as confession.

Key Quotes

“Destroying Madeline became Claire’s obsession, which in turn became mine.”

A private mantra of shared vengeance. It fuses grief, identity, and mission, showing how the sisters mirror each other’s darkest impulses and how revenge can become a surrogate bond when trust collapses.

“I can remember the night of the accident. I can remember it all. I know what happened now. It wasn’t me driving on Christmas Day and it wasn’t an accident at all.”

This clears the fog, collapses the timelines, and reclassifies the crash from tragedy to crime. With memory reclaimed, Amber can act—and the narrative’s suspense flips from what happened to what she’ll do next.

“Two peas in a pod.” / “Two. Peas. In. A. Pod.”

Once affectionate, now accusatory. The repetition, then the staccato delivery, shows the phrase’s evolution into a code for exposure and betrayal—proof that Paul trespassed and that Claire intends to punish.

“We used to tell each other everything.”

Claire reframes intimacy as entitlement. In the moment of Amber’s miscarriage, this lament reveals a worldview where secrets aren’t boundaries but betrayals—and control is care.


Why This Matters and Section Significance

These chapters trigger the novel’s rupture. The 1993 diary doesn’t merely add backstory; it rewrites Amber’s character in real time, forcing a re-read of every earlier confession. The intercut “Then/Now” structure tightens into a single line: Paul’s trespass leads to Amber’s panic, Claire’s takeover, the crash, and Amber’s coma. Amber waking shifts the book’s engine from mystery to confrontation. The past is no longer a puzzle—it’s a fuse, now lit in the present.