The Liar Society

by Lisa Roecker

  I stared at him. What exactly did Liam want with me? He seemed to like me, but clearly he had a history with Beefany that didn’t seem to be over.

  “Sorry. Not interested.”

  “Listen, we got off on the wrong foot. Give me a chance. I’ll prove you wrong.”

  I stared at him and he smiled this amazing, heart-stopping smile, and I wanted to say yes. I wanted to spend more time with him, to learn more about why he was always covering every available inch of notebook paper with cartoons and doodles, to hear about how he got started designing band posters, why he liked music so much, whether or not he’d really blackmailed the headmaster to get into PB. I suddenly wanted to know all of that and more. I wanted to know who Liam Gilmour really was.

  And then out of the corner of my eye I saw Bradley Farrow stop at his locker a few down from us. He nodded in my direction and gave me one of those secret smiles that made me want to punch his perfect white teeth in.

  “Kate? Kate? Did I lose you?” Liam looked at me expectantly, his smile hopeful and a little apologetic.

  “Yes, I’ll go out with you,” I said, unable to stop my eyes from wandering over to Bradley as I said it. “But don’t screw this up.” I managed to remain serious at first but then allowed the corners of my mouth to curl up just a little.

  “Does today after school work?” he asked.

  “It would, but I’m being forced to go to the Concilium meetings. I could probably just blow it off,” I said. Hopefully no one would notice my absence. Not that I contributed much.

  “Cool, I’ll meet you by the parking lot doors after ninth period.”

  Crap. I had totally forgotten about my date with the decrepit buildings of Brown. Minor change of plans.

  “Actually, do you mind if we meet at four? I have a bunch of questions for Ms. Haverton about trig.” I wasn’t sure how long it would take me to dig around Brown. I hoped an hour would give me enough time to find whatever it was I was searching for.

  “No prob,” Liam said. “See you at four.”

  It took all I had to hide the smile threatening to overtake my face.

  I spent the rest of the day walking on air. I was almost excited enough to forget all about lost best friends and the writing on the wall.

  Almost.

  Chapter 26

  The second hand of the black-and-white clock hanging above the marker board was painful to watch. It made its way around each number, patiently ticking a slow circle. The clock wasn’t in a rush, but I was.

  As soon as the last bell rang, I grabbed my stuff and booked it toward Station 3, where I knew Seth would be waiting. I had an hour to find whatever it was I was looking for.

  Faber est suae quisque fortunae. I repeated the Latin phrase hanging above the office’s glass doors over and over in my head. “Every man [or woman, in my case—those Romans were a bunch of sexist pigs] is the artisan of his own fortune.” Seth, for better or worse, was a time suck. And time was not on my side. As I rounded a corner, I noticed a desperate-looking group of first-year boys and took matters into my own hands. Those sexist Romans would have been scandalized.

  “Hey!” I yelled out, but no one looked. “Boys!” All at once, seven heads turned and looked up at me. I felt like Snow White and I’m not even that tall; they were just that short.

  “They’re giving away free doughnuts in the office.” I pushed past them and continued down the hall to where Seth was leaning against the glass walls of the office, arms crossed, keys in hand. It crossed my mind to run up, swipe the keys, and tear out of the building in the direction of Brown. I knew I could outrun Seth, but I also knew that would break his heart, and I wasn’t in the mood.

  “Hey, thanks for waiting.” As I stood with Seth, the same group of boys stormed into the office. A worried look crossed my face. “I wonder what’s going on.”

  Confused, Seth stretched his neck out and stood on his tiptoes to peer through the glass. “I’ve gotta get back in there. Mrs. Newbury needs backup. We’ll have to go to Brown another time.” Seth made a move to leave, but I placed my hand on his arm.

  “I have a deadline.” I tried to mimic Seth’s signature kicked-puppy-dog look. “I’ll take Naomi,” I lied. I knew he wouldn’t want me to go alone. “And I’ll bring the keys right back, promise.” More puppy-dog eyes. If I’d had a tail, I would have wagged it.

  Seth thought about my proposition for as long as he could. Mrs. Newbury really was struggling in there, all raised hands and darting eyes. She looked totally confused and even a little scared. Doughnuts were not a joking matter.

  “Okay, but you can’t tell anyone, and you have to come right back. I mean right back. If someone finds out I loaned out my keys, I’m dead. A dead man, Kate!” Seth’s eyes bugged out of his head.

  After he showed me which ones to try, I bolted out of the building. I guess I didn’t need to be concerned about not getting enough exercise since breaking from tennis. With all the running I was doing, I should have joined cross-country.

  I flew past a bunch of first-years hanging out in the gardens. As usual, it was quite the hot spot for the squealing girls of Pemberly Brown. If the legend about kissing your boyfriend under Farrow’s Arches wasn’t enough to lure them inside the garden, there were always the carved wedding stones that made up the garden pathway. Nearly everyone knew a couple who had met at Pemberly Brown and ended up married with a gorgeous stone on the wedding walk to commemorate the event.

  It was a source of endless fascination to see how incestuous the school really was. I mean, it couldn’t be normal to have hundreds of couples graduate from the same prep school and eventually marry, right? And even worse, they ended up breeding and sending their own kids to PB. I swear they put something in the water.

  I jogged past them—laughing, talking, doing normal teenage girl things—and hated them just a little. They were a reminder of how abnormal my life had become.

  Fortunately the girls barely spared me a second glance, and I moved deftly along the twisting path through the gardens to the campus beyond.

  I spotted the three remaining buildings that made up Brown’s old campus. While they were beautiful from the outside, they hadn’t been used for anything aside from storage in years. According to the administration, the buildings would be too costly to renovate after years of neglect, plus they were too far from the main campus to be of any use.

  The wind picked up. I noticed gray clouds looming overhead and caught a whiff of that just-before-it-rains smell. Another storm was on its way. I didn’t have much time if I was going to make it back to the office to drop off the keys and then out to Liam’s car without getting completely soaked.

  I ran to the nearest building and tried one of the keys. I slipped it in, but the key wouldn’t even turn. I tried the remaining two with no better luck. Had Seth screwed up the keys? I stood on my tiptoes and tried to look through the small glass window situated near the top of the door. I couldn’t see much.

  I hadn’t set out to add breaking and entering to my growing list of misdemeanors, so I jogged over to the next building, hoping one of the keys would work. Please, Grace, help me find whatever it is I’m supposed to be looking for. I sent my silent plea up to the stormy sky as the clouds rolled ominously—and hoped for the best.

  When I approached the door to the next building, I saw that something had been traced into the layer of dirt on the window of the door. A heart. The heart of Brown.

  My breath caught in my throat. This was it. I slipped in one of the keys and wiggled it back and forth. It moved a quarter of an inch but no more. I slipped the next key in and did the same. As soon as I began twisting, I felt the lock give way beneath my fingertips and knew I was in. Relief flooded through me as I pulled the heavy door open and took a step inside.

  Dust danced in the dim light of the doorway, catching in my throat and nose. When the door slammed behind me, I wasn’t sure what was worse, the claustrophobia or the dust-induced coughing fit.

  But th
en I thought of Grace, of her funeral, the coffin, her buried under the ground. In that moment, more than anything else, I wanted to turn around and run away. I wanted to climb into the warmth of Liam’s car and forget all about this dusty, tomblike building.

  Instead I forced myself to imagine the real Grace, my best friend, who deserved so much more than secrets and lies. I pictured her crooked smile and lifted the hem of my blazer to cover my mouth. I was going in.

  Led only by the meager light streaming through the window by the door, I navigated through the hallway. To my left I spotted a plaque mounted to the wall, similar to the stations at the Academy. I brushed off a thick layer of the ubiquitous beige dust and read: Brown School for Boys, Cor Unum. “One heart.” I was in the right place.

  I continued down the hallway. Classroom doors were open on both sides of me, but boxes, desks, chairs, and other random pieces of furniture blocked the line of windows and any light they would have let in. As a result, it grew darker and darker as I moved away from the door. I finally came to the end of the corridor, and the hallway split in two directions. I could go either left or right. Crap.

  I looked both ways as they had taught me at Safety Town and noticed something shiny on the wall to my left. It was a tiny metallic sticker of a heart. Guess I wasn’t the first person to seek the heart of Brown. My finger briefly lingered over the sticker, and I figured the choice had been made for me. I turned left and had only made my way a few feet into the hallway when I saw it.

  I’m not sure if it was intentional or not, but the door itself looked like a giant heart. It had two rounded peaks at the top and then subtle panels that formed a deep V.

  I drew in as much air as my blazer would allow and pulled the door open. The air reeked of incense, but it was free of dust. I dropped my hem from over my mouth and breathed deeply.

  The room itself was large and clean. The ceilings were higher than those in the hallway, and it was clear that the room was used regularly. All of this should have lent the room an airy feel, but someone had made the ridiculous decision to paint the walls black. Dim light filtered through a row of high rectangular windows, but the dark paint seemed to suck the daylight out of the room.

  I saw a switch to my right near the door and flipped it on out of pure habit. Black light showered down from the ceiling, and the walls came to life. They were covered with names. Chase Roman. William Vaughan. Kellan Wood.

  “The writing is on the wall,” I murmured to myself and looked around in awe. Every single one of the names belonged to a boy. I spun around in a circle, taking in each of the names until I saw one that I recognized.

  Richard Sinclair. Or, as I knew him, Headmaster Sinclair.

  I pulled my slam book and a pen out of my book bag and got to work. I wrote, “The writing is on the walls,” and underlined it three times. Next, I listed Headmaster Sinclair’s name, circled it, and then jotted down a few of the other names that stood out to me.

  When the sound of shattering glass ripped through the silence, my blue pen streaked across the page, crossing through part of Chase Roman’s name.

  A small object covered in paper skidded across the floor and landed at my feet. My heart thudded to life in my chest, hammering so hard and fast I thought it might burst. I briefly considered booking it out of there without the message that had come crashing through the window, but my curiosity overcame my fear. Paper beats rock, I thought as I unwound a rubber band securing the paper and flattened it out on my thigh. In bloodred ink and block handwriting, the note read:

  Ashes, ashes, we’re going to take you down.

  Lightning flashed in the distance, and I instinctively counted, “One-one-thousand, two-one-thousand, three-one-thousand…” as I waited for thunder. At four-one-thousand, thunder cracked. I tossed the note and rock into my book bag and ran through the dark hallways.

  The air around me felt charged with electricity, possibilities, and danger. I knew I’d never be able to run fast enough. Sooner or later I’d have to stop and brave the storm.

  Chapter 27

  Half screaming, half laughing, we rushed from Liam’s Jeep through the door at Starbucks, both shielding our heads from the pouring rain with our blazers. As soon as we pushed through the door, every head in the coffee shop turned like Pavlov’s dogs to check us out.

  “You get the seat, I’ll get the drinks,” Liam suggested, handing me his dripping blazer. “Skinny Frappuccino, right?”

  “Um, have you met me? I’m a full-fat Frap kind of girl. I don’t subscribe to ‘skinny’ drinks.” I considered asking for extra whipped cream to really make my point, but I figured that might be overkill.

  I headed over to my favorite couch and threw my wet body down onto it. In spite of all the Beefany awkwardness, I was happy to be here with Liam again. He made the threat I’d received at the heart of Brown feel a little bit farther away than it had felt fifteen minutes earlier.

  But when his blazer vibrated on the couch cushion next to me, I jumped, my heart pumping blood through my ears. I guess I wasn’t quite as removed as I thought. His phone slid partway out of his pocket, and I hoped whoever was calling or texting wouldn’t cut our date short.

  I shifted my shoulders a few times and realized that with my soaking-wet shirt sticking to my skin, comfort was virtually impossible. Liam was still waiting at the counter for our drinks, so I draped both of our wet blazers over the couch cushions to save our seats and ducked into the restroom.

  By the time I made it back to our spot, my hair had been partially dried under the hand dryer. I’d also ditched my wet button-down for the semi-dry tank top underneath and wrapped Grace’s long pearls around my neck three times instead of twice. Liam sipped a black coffee, and my Mocha Frappuccino sat chilly and inviting.

  But when I moved my blazer aside, I noticed a small white note sticking out of the pocket. I hadn’t put anything in my pockets. In fact, I’d been careful to put the rock and the threat in my bag for safekeeping. My eyes flickered to Liam, who smiled at me.

  “I’ll be right back,” I mumbled, slipping the note into my palm. “I think I left something in the bathroom.” Yeah, my sanity.

  I hurried back through the restroom door and, after bending and peeking beneath the stalls to make sure I was alone, opened the paper.

  Hush, little Kate, don’t say a word. We hear everything.

  Same block handwriting, same bloodred ink. Despite my damp tank top, I felt feverish. Paranoid, I scanned the ceiling—for what? Cameras? The bathroom suddenly felt too small, so I pushed back through the doors, seeing each customer in an entirely different light than before I’d walked through the door.

  A young kid wearing a black trench coat sat a few feet away from us. I stared hard at him and wondered. An older couple chatted animatedly near the door; the man met my eyes for a second but returned to his partner’s. Was he watching me? A girl around my age sipped coffee and typed into her laptop a few tables over. Could she have left the note?

  And then there was Liam sipping coffee, his uniform shirt unbuttoned to reveal a vintage T-shirt underneath. His cell phone vibrated in his blazer pocket again, and I watched his face darken as he examined the screen. He looked toward the door and then back at his phone. Could I really trust him? Suddenly I wasn’t so sure.

  I felt a little sick, and I had no idea what to do next. I couldn’t just whip the note out of my pocket and demand to know who had written it. If Grace were here, she’d clap her hands together and jump up and down at the thought of something actually happening. She would have told me to sit my ass back down, suck on my Frappuccino, and keep my eyes and ears open. So I returned to the couch just as Liam finished typing a message.

  “Is everything okay?” Liam asked with a concerned look on his face, sliding his phone on the table.

  “Sure.” I said, but it sounded more like a question. I picked a piece of lint from my uniform skirt, letting my mind wander again.

  And, big surprise, it wandered straight back to
the heart of Brown and all the pieces of Grace’s puzzle. On top of the names, the heart of Brown was used as some sort of meeting place. And then there was that crumpled note I’d stuffed into my book bag.

  Someone not only cared enough about me being there to send the threat, but even more disturbing, they knew I’d be there. And apparently one note wasn’t enough. They’d followed me here and delivered a second ultra-freaky warning. Clearly I was getting a little too close for comfort. Otherwise why would they bother? Too bad I still didn’t have any idea what all of this really meant and how it might connect to Grace.

  “Hello? Kate? You still with me?” Liam’s voice made me realize that I’d been staring blankly at his shoes.

  “Sorry, I was just thinking about…” Headmaster Sinclair? No, that was just gross. The Brown School for Boys? That was just weird. Rocks? Weird and geology focused. I shrugged.

  Liam shifted in his seat uncomfortably, and I wondered if something more than just our awkward conversation was making him edgy.

  “I’m gonna grab a water. You need anything?” Liam asked, standing up.

  “Um…” I thought for a second about all the things I needed, but I waved my hand and shook my head.

  As soon as Liam entered the line to order, his cell phone vibrated again. I craned my neck to evaluate his position in line and casually reached to retrieve his phone—in the name of my investigation, obviously.

  On the screen, Beefany’s name was listed next to two new text messages. Without thinking I opened the first text.

  Remember what we talked about.

  I cleared his screen and tossed the phone back on the table, annoyed. What exactly was going on between them? And what exactly was going on between us?

  After paying for his bottle of water, Liam lowered himself into the couch and shot me a smile I couldn’t possibly return. His phone vibrated again, and as he typed, I considered all the things he might be saying to Beefany, things about me, things about threatening notes. At this point, he could have been typing just about anything. I took one last sip of my Mocha Frappuccino and set the half-full cup on the table. Things had to be bad for me to abandon a Frappuccino.