Tell Me Pretty Lies

by Charleigh Rose

  I shake away the thought, walking over to the couch. I drop my bag onto the floor and fish out the blanket before spreading it out over one side of the couch. Turning on the flashlight on my phone, I prop it up on the cushion, then retrieve my notebook and the first pen I touch. I try not to think about the fact that the couch is full of dirt and dust, or that this place has probably become home to God knows how many bugs and critters.

  I sit down, tucking my legs underneath me, and I start to write. And write. And write. I write to my brother. I write to Danny. I write to my mom and Grey. And I write to Thayer. I fill pages and pages of all the things I never said—of all the things I’ll never say. And it’s not until I’m done that I notice a tear rolling down my face. I bring two fingers to my cheek, collecting the moisture before rubbing my thumb and fingers together until they’re dry. I don’t think I’ve allowed myself to cry since the night of the funeral…for so many reasons. I didn’t have the right, and more than that, I was afraid once I started, I wouldn’t stop.

  Reaching over, I pick up my phone and check the time—ten forty-six—and notice not only that my mom has called several times, but my phone is clinging to life at one percent battery. “Oh my God,” I whisper out loud, shoving my notebook and pen into my backpack. I opt for leaving the blanket. I’ll come back for it tomorrow.

  I rush for the door, ignoring the pain that tugs at my nipples from the movement, and click the padlock shut. Holding one arm across my chest, I sprint through the woods I know so well, hoping like hell my flashlight will last until I get back to my house. I don’t make it more than ten feet before that hope dies and I’m blanketed in darkness.

  “Fuck,” I curse, trying in vain to turn it back on, but, of course, it doesn’t work. I take a deep breath, trying to slow my racing heart. “Calm down, calm down, calm down,” I chant to myself in a whisper. You’ve walked this path a thousand times. You can do this. I take a single step, and a twig snaps from somewhere behind me. I freeze, whipping around. I can’t see anything, but the darkness has made me more aware of every sound. I wait for long seconds before chalking it up to a squirrel or something, but when I start to walk again, I hear a different noise. This time, it sounds like leaves crunching, and it’s coming from somewhere in front of me, off to my left. Rustling from my right has my head snapping in that direction, wishing I wasn’t stupid enough to lose track of time without a flashlight.

  Before my imagination can run wild, I take off, sprinting toward my house once more. I hear footsteps behind me, picking up speed to keep up with my pace, and that’s when the panic starts to set in. It’s not an animal. These are people. As in, more than one. I go as fast as my legs will carry me, panting with the exertion. I can hear their footsteps getting closer, and when I finally get the courage to look behind me, I don’t see anyone. I stop, surveying my surroundings, half-wondering if I’m going crazy. But when I turn back around, a dark, shadowy figure stands right in front of me.

  “Boo.”

  I scream, my heart plummeting into my stomach, but hands fly out, one covering my mouth, one cradling the back of my head.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  Thayer? I try to force my eyes to adjust. I can’t see his face, but I know it’s him. I can tell by his voice. His scent—tobacco and pine.

  He peels his palm from my mouth and pulls a flashlight from somewhere, bathing my face in bright light. I squint, bringing a hand up to shield my eyes.

  “Someone’s chasing me,” I say, still out of breath, chancing a glance behind me.

  “Is that so?” he asks, and I can hear the amusement in his voice. That’s when it clicks. It was him. And probably Holden, if I had to guess.

  “You guys can come out now,” I yell, turning around as fear gives way to frustration and embarrassment. Three more flashlights click on, bobbing through the darkness as they run toward us, cackling like hyenas. Once they’re close enough, Thayer’s flashlight illuminates their faces, confirming my suspicions. Holden, Christian, and Baker.

  “Assholes.”

  I try to shove past Thayer, but he blocks my path. “What are you doing?”

  “Going home,” I snap.

  “No, what are you doing out here?” he clarifies, moving closer. “Were you in the barn?”

  I swallow hard, not wanting him to know that I’ve been going back there. He’d find a way to ruin it for me somehow.

  “No,” I lie. “I went for a walk. Couldn’t sleep.”

  He smirks, the shadows from the flashlight making his face look all too sinister, and leans in even closer, lowering his voice so only I can hear. “I can help you out with that.” His breath fans my ear, and goosebumps spread down my arms. “Remember the last time you couldn’t sleep?” he taunts. “Want me to touch your pussy again? Maybe I’ll use my tongue this time.”

  My cheeks burn, the tips of my ears getting hot. “Fuck off.” I barrel past him, and this time he lets me by.

  “Come on, Shayne,” he yells after me. “It’ll be just like old times!”

  Shayne

  “Good morning, Sunshine,” Valen says, looking me up and down. “You look like shit.”

  “Couldn’t sleep,” I mutter, not even bothering to act offended by her comment. Lack of sleep coupled with the fact that I opted for a baggy, oversized shirt to let my piercings breathe have me looking borderline homeless.

  Last night, after Thayer’s little stunt, I tossed and turned all night. I told myself it was the lasting effects of the adrenaline, but it was more than that. I can help you out with that. His words played in my mind on repeat. They were crass and offensive, but they made my stomach flip with…something. Ironically enough, I only fell asleep once I finally stopped fighting the urge to relieve the tension he created. So, I guess in a way, he did help me out with that. Asshole.

  “Dunkin’ for lunch?”

  “It’s a date.”

  We part ways and I slip into first period, taking my seat near the back. Once everyone’s settled, the morning announcements float from the speaker, making me wince. Lack of sleep gives me the worst headaches.

  “Goooood morning, SPH,” Taylor’s shrill voice singsongs. “First thing’s first. As you all know, we’ve had to change our mascot and logo because it was offensive…or whatever.” I snort at the way she sounds put out by the fact. “Last week, we all voted, and the results are in! Instead of the Sawyer Point Indians, we are now…” she trails off and I hear a muffled drumroll in the background. “The Sawyer Point Tigers!”

  Half the class groans; half applauds. Someone throws a wadded-up ball of paper followed by a boo. I’m just glad we’ve finally stopped offending an entire group of people for the sake of tradition.

  “The sign out front as well as the logo on the gymnasium floor will be updated to reflect this change in the coming weeks, so we appreciate your patience while we do our best to work around school functions and athletics. Okay, now that that’s out of the way, I also have an announcement from Coach Jensen and me. Volleyball tryouts will take place next week in the gym, every day from three-thirty to five. If you need more information, you can visit Coach Jensen in his office.”

  I’d rather scoop my eyeballs out with a spoon.

  Part of me is dying for a sliver of normalcy. Volleyball is something I’m good at. Something familiar, and something I enjoy. But the bigger part of me doesn’t want to deal with everything that comes along with it.

  I pull out my notebook and a pen, taking a quick glance around to make sure no one is paying me any attention before I open it to a blank page. Keeping my head low, my hair acts as a curtain, and I drown out the announcements as I write.

  A piece of paper taped to my locker has dread unfurling in my stomach. I should’ve known I wouldn’t be able to fly under the radar. I march toward my locker, seeing the words written there.

  What do Shayne Courtland and cockroaches have in common?

  I rip it off, turning it over, expecting to find the punch line, but nothing
is there. I hear snickers and look over to see Taylor and Alexis watching me with amused expressions. “Good one,” I deadpan, crumpling up the piece of paper before dropping it to the floor. They’re losing their touch. Their insults used to be witty, but this one doesn’t even make sense. I spin the dial, putting in my combination, and when I jerk my locker open, a bloodcurdling scream rips through my throat.

  I jump back, stumbling into someone as dozens of giant cockroaches crawl over each other, spilling out of my locker and onto the floor. I shudder, watching them all over my stuff. I don’t have much in there. An extra jacket, a granola bar, some lip balm. All of which will be trashed.

  Another note dangles from inside, catching my attention.

  They’re both impossible to get rid of.

  My head whips over toward Taylor, but her eyes are wide, horrified, as if she didn’t know what I was going to find. She wouldn’t go near these things. Then, who? My lock is intact, and the actual locker doesn’t appear to be tampered with—on the outside, at least.

  Thayer.

  He’s the only one besides Valen that would know my combination. The same three numbers I use for every password and every locker. But why? Why would he go out of his way to torment me at school? He doesn’t even go here anymore. Does he really want me gone that badly?

  “Damn, Shayne. You really shouldn’t leave food in your locker,” Holden says, coming to stand next to me, leaning in close to my ear. “You’ll get bugs.”

  Ah. So, Holden’s doing Thayer’s dirty work. A nasty retort is on the tip of my tongue, but I keep it inside, settling for a glare instead. They want me to cry and run away. They want a reaction. And I’m not going to give it to them.

  “Who did this?” Mr. Beeney, one of the science teachers, demands, running toward us with what appears to be a small glass aquarium. He drops to his knees, scooping up the cockroaches with his bare hands. “These are Madagascar hissing cockroaches and they are pets, not pests.” Mr. Beeney keeps these in his classroom, and I always avoided looking at them when I had him my freshman year.

  “I don’t care what they are. Just get them out of my locker.” My stomach rolls, my lips curling up in disgust as I watch him handle them.

  “Now you know how we feel,” Taylor quips. Alexis has the decency to appear contrite, but the rest of their crew acts like it’s the funniest thing they’ve ever heard.

  Something shifts, and I realize that my way of doing things needs to change. Lying low, staying quiet, keeping my head down? It didn’t make it go away. If anything, it made things worse. People like Taylor, Thayer, and Holden prey on the weak.

  “Thank you,” I tell her, loving the way her face screws up into a confused expression. “You just made things a whole lot easier.”

  “Whatever,” she says, her eyes shifting to the side, unsure of how to respond.

  I walk away, leaving Mr. Beeney to take care of his pets, and head straight for the athletic building. Screw Taylor and Alexis. Screw Holden and Thayer. From now on, I’m not going to let them dictate my choices. Starting with talking to the coach about getting back on the volleyball team.

  “You’re joking, right?” Taylor snaps, seeing me enter the gym in a tank top and spandex shorts. I put on a sports bra for the first time since getting my piercings, and to my surprise, it doesn’t hurt.

  “Nope,” I say innocently, tightening my ponytail. “Feels good to be back.” Actually, it does feel good, if not slightly terrifying. But I’m going to fake it ’til I make it. I talked to the coach last week, and taking into consideration the details of why I quit last year, he was more than happy to let me back on the team. Of course, I have to try out as a formality, but we both know I’ll make it.

  Taylor steps toward me, getting in my space. “If you think you’re going to take my place as team captain just because you decided to come back, you’ve got another thing coming.”

  “I wasn’t aware the team captain had been chosen for this year yet,” I shoot back. The thought didn’t even occur to me, but she doesn’t have to know that.

  “All right, ladies,” Coach’s voice echoes through the gym before Taylor can respond, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. “First, it’s nice to see both new and familiar faces. We’re going to start out with a group warm-up, run some laps, then we’ll partner up for some passing. We’ll finish by seeing where you’re at with your spiking, serving, digging, and setting skills. In the coming days, we’ll move on to scrimmages to evaluate footwork and how you work as a team. Sound good?”

  I nod my understanding and a couple overzealous girls cheer.

  “Taylor, lead the warm-up?”

  “My pleasure,” Taylor says, sending me a smirk before she skips away.

  The next hour and a half flies by surprisingly fast, and before I know it, Coach is blowing the whistle and telling us all he’ll see us tomorrow. I grab my backpack from the bleachers and manage to make it out to the parking lot before Taylor can come back for another round. I’m sweaty and tired and apparently out of shape, and there’s nothing I want more than to go home and shower.

  By the time I make it home, it’s dark, and the empty driveway tells me my mom’s gone. Again. Unlocking the door, I walk in and flip on the light switch. I go straight to my room, tossing my bag onto my bed before toeing off my shoes. Pulling my shirt over my head, I turn to throw it into my laundry basket, but I freeze when I see Thayer standing in my room on the other side of my bed, my shirt landing nowhere near its intended target.

  “What the hell?” I screech, bringing my arms up to cover my chest. “What are you doing?” I slap a hand behind me, hitting the light switch. Thayer stands there, arms crossed, blank expression on his stupid, perfect face.

  “Hand it over.” His voice is flat and to the point.

  “Hand what over?” I feel my eyebrows tug together in confusion.

  He rounds the bed, holding out a palm. “The key to the barn.”

  My heartbeat kicks up a notch.

  “I know you were there.” He moves closer, and I kick myself for taking a small step backwards.

  “My mom will be here soon.”

  He snorts, not hesitating for even a second. “You think I give a fuck?”

  “What happened to you?” I can’t help but ask. His dark eyes narrow, a storm clouding his perfect features.

  “Don’t play dumb, Shayne. It doesn’t suit you.”

  I frown, looking into those sad eyes, and my heart breaks just a little. “I wish I could change what happened—”

  Thayer’s in my face in an instant, his arms caging me in against the back of my bedroom door. “Don’t,” he warns, his voice full of venom. “You shouldn’t even fucking be here.”

  “Where else would I be?” I whisper, my chest heaving, both thrilled and terrified to be this close to him again. He’s different now. Unpredictable. But physically, he still feels like Thayer. Still looks like him. And my body isn’t communicating with my brain because it still reacts to his nearness. His eyes slide down, hesitating on my sports bra.

  “What do we have here?” He brushes the tip of his thumb across the thin material, directly over my nipple. I shudder, flinching away. “You actually did it.”

  “They can’t be touched yet.”

  He lifts his eyebrow at the word yet, and I’m quick to correct myself.

  “You can’t touch them at all.”

  “Relax,” he says before I can correct myself again. He pushes off the wall, putting space between us. “You’re the last person I want to touch.”

  I force my face not to crumble at his words. The old Thayer wasn’t exactly a boy scout, but this version? This version is cold and cruel and not the boy I fell for in that barn.

  “Get out,” I say, steeling my tone. “Now.”

  “Give me the key and I’m gone.”

  I consider giving it to him, if only to make him leave, but the thought of not having access to the one place that feels like home…

 
“I dropped it.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s your fault,” I snap back. “Maybe if I wasn’t being chased, I wouldn’t have dropped it.”

  He works his jaw before responding. “Stay away, Shayne. From the barn, from Holden, and from me.”

  I want to ask him again why he’s doing this. Why he’s acting like I did anything other than try to be there for him, but my pride won’t let me. I won’t beg for an explanation. I won’t beg him to care about me.

  “You’re the one in my house,” I remind him.

  “Still got that mouth,” he mutters, eyes zeroing in my lips. “But your brother isn’t here to protect you anymore, is he?”

  Grey practically raised me, with my mom working all the time. He was like a brother, a best friend, and the only father figure I’ve ever known, all rolled into one. For the most part, I consider myself to be a responsible person. I got good grades and tried to follow the rules. Except when it comes to Thayer. Something about him brings out the worst in me, and I can’t ever seem to think clearly when he’s around. Not then, and apparently not now. He made me reckless, and I loved it.

  No one would ever expect the two of us would fall for each other. He was the bad boy. The loner. The black sheep. I was just…Shayne. Grey’s little sister. But he knew the real me and I thought I knew the real him.

  “Or maybe you’re the one protecting him now,” Thayer muses.

  What? “What does Greyson need protecting from?” I ask, not understanding what he has to do with any of this. Grey, Danny, and Thayer were closest, being the oldest, but when Danny died, it somehow turned us into the Montagues and the Capulets.

  Before he can answer, I hear the front door open half a second before I hear my mom’s heels click-clacking through the house. I turn, wide-eyed, to look at Thayer. If he’s nervous, he doesn’t show it. If anything, he looks annoyed by the interruption. I, on the other hand, am wearing only spandex and a sports bra, and all I can think about is how bad this is going to look.