This Is Why We Lie Page 5

  HOLLIE: Serena keeps texting me. I can’t deal.

  JENNA: About what?

  HOLLIE: She’s sorry she’s been distant lately. Blah, blah, blah.

  JENNA: What, you don’t buy it?

  HOLLIE: Before this, the last time she texted me was July. It’s October.

  JENNA: So she wants to fix things?

  HOLLIE: She just wants the inside scoop, now that she thinks I killed Colleen.

  JENNA: Don’t say that.

  HOLLIE: Sorry. But it’s weird, right? What, am I suddenly relevant again?

  JENNA: She’s our friend, Hol.

  HOLLIE: When it suits her. I just don’t get her sudden interest.

  JENNA: Maybe you should talk to her.

  HOLLIE: I can’t. You’re the only person I trust right now.

  ADAM

  Serena’s here again, at the cabin. She doesn’t wait for the parties anymore—she shows up on weekdays now, too. And she comes alone, without her usual squad in tow. Over on the couch, she’s wrapped around Max. She won’t let him out of her sight.

  It’s been this way for a while. It’s as though the more he pulls away, the tighter she grips. I don’t know what hold he has over her, but I get the feeling Serena isn’t a girl who likes to lose.

  She notices my eyes on her, and she stares back at me over Max’s shoulder.

  I look away.

  * * *

  Max is in the rec room, watching some trashy family court TV show. Judge Whoever is doling out punishment to some dude who busted his neighbor’s mailbox.

  I push Max’s leg off the couch and sink into the seat beside him.

  “You cut class?”

  He bites into a strip of licorice, tearing it with his teeth. “Free period.”

  “Yeah. Same.”

  His phone buzzes with an incoming text. He glances at it, half smiles, then tosses the phone aside.

  I see the name on the message. He’s saved the contact as HRG, and the text is all heart emojis and kisses.

  “HRG?” I ask.

  “Hot Rich Girl.”

  “Serena?” We met this girl on the pier a couple of weeks back. Max seems into her. He’s been bringing her around lately. But he doesn’t talk about her much.

  “Yup,” he says, chewing.

  “Does she know you’ve got her saved as Hot Rich Girl?”

  He grins. “Nope.”

  “She’s never seen HRG on your phone?”

  He snorts out a laugh.

  “What if she sees it? You think she’ll be pissed?”

  He glances at the TV as the judge bangs the gavel. “Nah. Why would she be?”

  “I don’t know. Because her name’s Serena.”

  “She’ll be fine. It’s a compliment. And it’s a fact. She’s hot, she’s rich, and she’s a girl.”

  I look down at the heart emojis again before the phone’s screen fades to black. “So, are you serious about her or what?”

  “Dude, I’ve seen her pops cruising around town. He drives a goddamn Bentley.” His eyes light up. “She drives a Porsche. Can you believe that shit?”

  “Yeah, I can. She’s a Preston girl.”

  He gives a low whistle. “Bank.”

  I pause. “I wouldn’t have had her down as your type.”

  “What’s not to like?”

  “I don’t know. She seems high-maintenance.”

  “Yeah, but she’s hot. And she’s my ticket out of here.”

  I stare back at him.

  “Come on,” he scoffs. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it?”

  “What?”

  “We graduate this time next year. We’ll be out of Rookwood.” He drags his index finger along his throat. “Done.”

  “Yeah. And?”

  “Contingency plan, bro. What are you going to do after Rookwood?”

  My mouth goes dry. “I don’t know. Go to college?”

  “Who’s paying? You?”

  “I’ll get a job. Rent an apartment somewhere.”

  He laughs and shakes his head. “Well, good luck to you, man. Enjoy eating from the dumpster while you’re sleeping on the streets.”

  “It won’t be like that. I can do stuff.”

  “Yeah, right! We’re nobodies, Adam. Ain’t nobody giving us jobs or apartments. Once we’re outta here, it’s kill or be killed. No way in hell I’m going back home after this.”

  I force his words from my mind. I don’t want them taking root. “What’s this got to do with Serena?”

  He flicks my forehead. “Catch up. I’m covering my ass with this girl. She told me she’s getting some fat inheritance payout as soon as she hits eighteen. She’s my meal ticket. Know what I’m saying? She’s my nine-to-five.”

  “That’s messed up.”

  He tears the licorice with his teeth and grins. “Kill or be killed.”

  JENNA

  I hold my phone close to my ear as I try to think of something to say. Something remotely positive. Something that doesn’t involve Colleen or her case. “I missed you at school today, Hol. We had to play dodgeball in gym, and I had no one to share my trauma with.”

  Hollie offers an empty laugh. “Sadists. I’m glad I ditched if dodgeball’s the best they could come up with.”

  “I know, right? I feel like I should put in a formal complaint. I swear, I have a bruise on my butt now.”

  “Brutal.”

  She’s still Hollie, but she’s not the Hollie she was a few weeks ago, before this witch hunt started. It’s as if she’s just going through the motions, responding when she’s supposed to respond, laughing when she’s supposed to laugh. But it’s hollow. She’s a shell.

  “Mr. Waller said he’d email you the English assignment. Did you get it?”

  She sighs. “I don’t know. I haven’t checked.”

  “I think you can still make the grades for valedictorian, as long as you send the homework in on time.”

  She makes a vaguely disinterested noise, and my stomach tightens.

  I take a deep breath. “So, I was thinking you should come over to my house tonight. We can watch movies, pick up Chinese food from that takeout place in town—”

  “I can’t,” she says softly.

  “Well, I could come to you. If your mom doesn’t mind?”

  “I’m supposed to go into the station for more questioning tomorrow. I should probably rest up.”

  “Hollie,” I murmur. “Come on. Don’t shut me out. I’m here for you, okay? This is just a blip. We’ll get through it, together.” My gaze wanders to my bedroom window, where the maple branches are swaying outside.

  She’s quiet again.

  “I’m so sorry you’re going through this, Hollie.”

  “Yeah.” Her voice wavers. “I know you are.”

  “Everyone misses you at school.” I move on, fumbling over my words. “It’s not the same without you.”

  “What, people actually want the murderer back?” she jokes. But it falls flat.

  “No one thinks you did it. Not really.” Even as I say it, I can’t be entirely sure that the statement is true.

  Silence.

  “Hollie, please let me come over. I’ll keep you company. I’ll—”

  “Sorry, Jenna. I’ve gotta go. My mom’s calling me.”

  I didn’t hear Mrs. Braithwaite in the background. All I heard was the crack in Hollie’s voice when she told the lie.

  But I don’t challenge her. “Okay. I’ll call you tomorrow. I hope everything goes well, you know, with the...”

  “Thanks,” she murmurs.

  When I end the call, there’s a painful tightness in my chest. Hollie shouldn’t be punished like this. She would never have hurt Colleen. I know that. And so should all the piranhas. There
was just one stupid fight—over a guy.

  There’s a knock on my bedroom door.

  “Come in,” I call.

  My door creaks open, and Kate peers around it. “Can we talk?”

  I smile, but it feels like more of a grimace. “Sounds ominous.”

  She steps into the room and perches on the edge of my bed. “There’s no easy way to say this.” She takes a breath. “I have some bad news.”

  My grip tightens around my phone. “Okay.”

  She rests her hand on my leg. “Jenna, some text message transcripts have been handed in as evidence in Colleen’s case. A message was sent from Hollie’s number on the night Colleen died.”

  My stomach does flips. This is what I was afraid of.

  BRIANNA: Guys, what the hell just happened?

  COLLEEN: I don’t know, Bri. Hol, want to explain why you lost it with me at lunch?

  COLLEEN: No response? Typical Hollie. No backbone.

  IMOGEN: What did you do, Colleen?

  COLLEEN: Nothing! Why do you assume it’s my fault?

  SERENA: Have you guys been online? Loads of girls are posting pictures of Colleen and Hollie fighting in the cafeteria!

  IMOGEN: Oh my god. Just ignore it.

  COLLEEN: I’m glad people documented it. They’re only posting proof of me being attacked by her. Unprovoked! She’s not even sorry. I might delete her from our group.

  JENNA: Can we stop texting about this, please?

  COLLEEN: No.

  COLLEEN: Texting, texting, texting.

  COLLEEN: I’ll keep going until she answers us or removes herself from MY group. Girl, bye. No one even likes you anyway, Hol.

  HOLLIE: Get over yourself, Colleen. You’re the one that none of us like. Do us all a favor and go kill yourself.

  Hollie has left the group.

  ADAM

  “The cops were here again.” Tommy shuts the door to our room and leans against it. “They questioned me, and I think they questioned Max too. I saw him coming out of Lomax’s office.”

  I sit up a little straighter on my bed. “Yeah? What did they ask you?”

  He runs a hand through his shaggy black hair. “They asked how I knew Colleen. If I think anyone might have had it in for her, that kind of thing.”

  “Why were they asking you?”

  “Because they know something.” He drags his hands over his face and groans.

  “Don’t worry.” I tug at my collar. It feels tighter, all of a sudden. “Her friends probably said she’d been hanging out with you, that’s all. They have to follow any leads. They’re covering all their bases.”

  He bangs the back of his head against the door. “We’re screwed.”

  “What did you tell the cops?” I ask.

  “That Max is dating her friend Serena. That’s it.”

  “Good. Just act normal. Be you.”

  “Yeah, right,” he mutters. “Being me is what got me sent here in the first place.”

  I squint at him. “No, getting busted with narcotics is what got you sent here.”

  He grimaces.

  “Alright,” I say, “so act squeaky clean. Act like Max.”

  “We’re going down for this,” Tommy says. “We’ll be their scapegoats. I know it.”

  “No, we won’t.” I slap my hands together. “We just have to sail through this investigation, then we can move on with our lives. We’ve got our futures to think of.”

  “What futures?” he mutters.

  “I don’t know. College? Whatever comes after that?”

  Something close to a laugh escapes him. “College? Since when are we going to college?”

  I shrug. “It’s possible, right? Second chances and all that.”

  He shakes his head. “Rookwood was our second chance, Adam. Guys like us don’t get a third.”

  * * *

  I tap on the door with my knuckles.

  Through the glass partition, I see Principal Lomax look up from her paperwork. She takes off her glasses and beckons me into her office.

  “Hi, Adam,” she says. “What can I do for you?”

  Suddenly, I feel warm. Too warm. “I wanted to talk to you. About my future.” I press my palms together.

  “Well, sure. Take a seat.” She gestures to the chair opposite her.

  I sit and trace my thumb along the uneven ridge of the oak desk. It’s a while before I realize I haven’t spoken.

  “Adam?”

  I clear my throat. “Yeah. I wanted to talk to you about scholarships.”

  She folds her hands together on the desktop. “Okay.”

  “Would I be eligible for something like that?”

  “A scholarship?”

  “Yeah.” I hold my breath while I wait for her answer. No. She’s going to say no. I can feel it.

  “Well, I’ll have to take a look at your GPA, but I know you’ve got a good track record with your grades. No promises, but it’s certainly something we can shoot for.”

  Relief floods through me. For the first time in years, I see a chance. Possibilities.

  “What kind of scholarship would you like to aim for?” She takes a pen from the crammed pot on her desk and reaches for a notepad.

  “I don’t know. I’m pretty good at math, I think?”

  She jots something on the pad. “Yes, you are. You’re a great student.” She pauses, assessing me with her gaze. “What are your aspirations, Adam?”

  I rub the nape of my neck. “I don’t know. I didn’t think college was in the cards for me because of the money. But I could go on a grant, right?”

  She nods, encouragingly. “Absolutely.”

  “I’ve been thinking about studying law. I already understand how the system works. I really think I could make something of myself. I think I could turn things around.”

  Her eyes crinkle into a smile. “That’s why you’re at Rookwood, Adam. It’s never too late to turn your life around.”

  ADAM: Tommy said cops were in Lomax’s office today. Did they call you in?

  MAX: Yeah. What did T tell them?

  ADAM: Nothing.

  MAX: Did he drop my name?

  ADAM: No. Of course not.

  MAX: Good. Better not.

  ADAM: Do you know why the cops wanted to talk to you again? Tommy’s worried a second round of questioning means they’re closing in on us.

  MAX: You and T need to chill. They’re grasping at straws, and they can’t pin this on us without proof. Tell T to keep his mouth shut. I don’t need him screwing this up for all of us.

  ADAM

  It’s never too late to turn your life around. That’s what I keep telling myself.

  But the walls are closing in. I loosen my collar. This dorm room is stifling, and the air feels thin. It’s always dark in here, no matter how light it is outside.

  I pull my phone free from the charging cable and type out a message to Jenna. It has to end here. The lying. I can’t do it anymore. I’ll tell her everything. Right from the start.

  My fingers move fast over the keypad, spilling my worst words into the message box. Then I toss my phone onto the bed and ball my hands. Because I’m not going to send that message.

  Because it’s not just me anymore. It’s not my truth to tell.

  * * *

  “Your shot.”

  Max’s voice brings my attention back to the cabin. I lift my cue and take my turn. The red ball sinks into the pool table’s pocket.

  Max leans against his cue. “Okay, bud. I’ve got a good one—”

  “Hold up. I made the shot!” I point to the corner pocket.

  “Doesn’t matter. I still get to ask a question. That’s the game.”

  “I thought the game was Truth if you miss a shot?”

  “It was.” Ma
x grins and takes a swig of beer. “But I changed the rules.”

  I glance at Tommy, and he shrugs back at me.

  “Alright,” I say to Max. “Hit me.”

  He taps his cue on the floorboards. “What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

  My jaw clenches.

  “And don’t bullshit me,” he adds. “I’m talking, the shadiest shit you ever pulled. The shit you get nightmares about.”

  I lift my beer and knock some back. “I don’t know. I busted my dad’s Jeep when I was a kid.”

  Max snorts. “Nope.”

  “What?”

  “You’re trying to tell me that’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”

  “It was a nice Jeep.”

  Max shakes his head. “You’re full of shit.”

  “For real. I can’t remember anything else.” I don’t look at Tommy because I know he knows I’m lying. “You’re up,” I tell Max, and I gesture to the table with my cue.

  Max takes his shot. He’s sloppy now. The ball bounces off the pocket and ricochets across the table. He cusses under his breath.

  “Okay, same to you,” I say. “Worst thing you’ve ever done?”

  Max looks up from the game and meets my eyes. “I killed a guy.” There’s a beat of silence before his face dissolves into a smile. “Hey, if you can lie, I can lie too.”

  “I wasn’t lying.”

  “Neither was I.”

  “Whatever.” I hand my cue to Tommy. He lines up his shot and sinks a ball.

  “Okay, I got another one,” Max says. “If you had to.” He aims his beer bottle at Tommy. “If you really had to choose, who’d you go for: the hot tattooed girl who works at the market or the cougar from the bus station?”

  Tommy stares down at the table. “I don’t know. Neither.”

  Max splutters and sloshes beer onto the floor. “Neither? You’re lying.”

  “Neither of them are my type.”

  His jaw drops. “Not your type? Come on.”

  Tommy sighs, and I look at him. “Fine, hot tattooed girl.”