This Lie Will Kill You

by Chelsea Pitcher

  After, he couldn’t stop touching her. For hours, his fingers danced over the curve of her hips, circled her stomach, and rose to find her face. She smiled, kissing his fingers. His arm must’ve been tired, considering everything that had come before, but still, he wouldn’t stop studying her. Memorizing her with his fingers. When she got up in the morning, he shook his head and pulled her back to him.

  She laughed, falling into his arms.

  She was giddy with her love, giddy with her plans to escape. She didn’t see anything outside the window. Didn’t see the blinking light of a camera. Didn’t see a phone. But hours later, when the video popped up in her inbox, Ruby knew all too well that she’d been recorded.

  Everyone did.

  22.

  NORTHERN EXPOSURE

  The morning of Dahlia Kane’s party, Juniper awoke with no sense of foreboding. No birds flew into her window, their wingbeats fading into silence. Her alphabet cereal didn’t spell out RUN. Honestly, there was no indication that anything unusual would happen, and by the time she’d arrived in third-period chemistry, she’d resigned herself to business as usual.

  Then, giggling. The kind you’d hear in middle school, when someone passed a scandalous note. Nothing for Juniper to worry about, certainly, because she wasn’t a twelve-year-old with a crush on a pimply-faced boy. She was practically an adult. She opened her book, flipped to the chapter on atomic theory, and took a couple of notes.

  She heard it again. This time the giggling had taken on a sinister quality, the way a beautiful queen might transform, in mid-laugh, into a wicked witch, her lyrical laughter giving way to cackling. Juniper turned, searching for the source. There, in the back of the room, Genevieve Johnson was peering at something in her lap. Her phone. Cell phone usage was strictly prohibited during class, but of course, there were ways around it. Keep your phone on silent. Text with your eyes on the front of the class. Juniper’s classmates adhered to a strict code when it came to the rules: if they could be bent, they should be bent, and by the time the third person started cackling, Juniper got a sinking feeling in her stomach.

  It wasn’t just the laughter’s cruel undertone. Plenty of people shared gossip during class. But every time someone glanced at their phone, their gaze drifted to the empty chair in the second row.

  Ruby’s chair. Ruby wasn’t in chemistry today, which was odd, because she hadn’t missed a day of school since the weekend her father disappeared. Now, as students glanced from Ruby’s chair to the phones they had hidden in their laps, Juniper’s stomach tightened. She actually thought she could feel Ruby’s emotions. Once, when Ruby had gotten food poisoning at age ten, Juniper had spent the day in bed with the chills before she even knew that Ruby was sick. Logically, she knew the girls weren’t psychically linked, but there was a connection between them.

  There had always been a connection.

  That was why, when the boy sitting next to her chortled, Juniper’s face flushed like she was the subject of whatever was being passed around. She needed to look at her phone. Now. But she didn’t dare take it out in the middle of class, even if Ms. Jacobson was busy scribbling on the board, so she cleared her throat and asked to go to the bathroom. Two minutes later she was locking herself in a stall, trying to calm her heartbeat as she took out her phone.

  There was a multimedia message waiting there. The message was titled, Plowing the Strawberry Fields, and when Juniper opened it, she found herself staring at a video of Ruby’s bedroom. She could only see a corner of the bed. It looked like the video had been taken from outside Ruby’s window, and when she pressed play, she had a perfect view of the boy climbing over the sill.

  Shane Ferrick, holding a rope.

  Juniper gasped, not even caring that she was leaning against the filthy stall. She couldn’t stand up straight. It honestly hadn’t occurred to her that this could be something worse than a sex tape, something darker. And yet, when Shane reached the bed, he dropped the rope onto Ruby’s comforter and held out his wrists.

  Ruby tied the rope in a bow. Then she pulled him toward the bed, and after a minute, Juniper could only see their feet entangling.

  She pressed stop. Well, she tried to press stop, but the phone wasn’t listening. It took her three tries to realize the screen was wet. She was crying. She was heartbroken, because Ruby hadn’t known she was being recorded, and soon the entire school would know, and oh God.

  How could Shane have done this? Juniper looked down, using her sleeve to wipe off the screen. Now it was dry, but instead of pressing stop, she pressed fast-forward, keeping her thumb over the images as they sped by. She wanted to see the end of the recording. Wanted to see Shane’s face as he turned the camera off. Would he smile smugly while Ruby slept in the background?

  Would he wink?

  In the end, Juniper never got answers to her questions, because she couldn’t see his mouth. She couldn’t see his eyes. Maybe he was being careful, trying to keep his face out of the frame, but he wasn’t careful enough. A lock of hair gave him away.

  Black and shining, it curved over the frame.

  Suddenly Juniper’s hands were moving again, and as much as she wanted to pretend some ghost was possessing her, she knew the truth. She couldn’t let fear (or was it pride?) keep her from reaching out to Ruby. If there was even a chance that Ruby wanted to talk to her, she would summon her courage and be there for her ex−best friend.

  Ruby, are you okay? she texted.

  The response was fairly quick. Juniper’s stomach ached as she read Ruby’s reply. He didn’t do it.

  Wait, what? Juniper wrote frantically.

  Shane didn’t make the video, Ruby replied. Was she being serious? It seemed impossible, but when Juniper really thought about it, it made a wicked kind of sense. Ruby’s father had hurled her into furniture (or walls? down the stairs?), and Ruby had defended him. Parker had hurled a kid into a row of trash cans, and Ruby had fallen in love with him. Now Shane had hurled her into the spotlight, and of course he was innocent.

  I just need to see him, Ruby texted after a minute. We’re supposed to meet at Dahlia’s party tonight.

  Oh, you should wear a gown! And Shane will wear a suit, and you can attend your movie premiere together.

  Oh crap, had she really sent that? She hadn’t meant to do it. She’d only wanted to see it written out. To tell Ruby the truth for once, instead of biting her tongue. But this wasn’t the right moment. This was the worst moment, and Ruby wasn’t writing back.

  Not then, and not an hour later. Moment by moment, class by class, Juniper kept hunching over her desk like everybody else. She wrote I’m sorry at lunchtime, to no response. On her walk home, the words I didn’t mean that were greeted by silence. By the time evening came around, she realized that texting wasn’t going to untangle Ruby from Shane Ferrick’s ropes.

  She needed to take action.

  Now, sitting in the Cherry Street Mansion, watching Ruby struggle against her bindings, Juniper knew it was time to own up to those actions. Taking a shuddering breath, she shifted her gaze to Gavin. “I think it’s time we told the truth.”

  And so, at last, they did.

  23.

  RED HANDED

  Gavin was sick of everyone’s shit. For years he’d wanted to score an invitation to Dahlia Kane’s Christmas party, and now that it had finally happened, it turned out to be a trick. Dahlia didn’t want to spend time with his fabulous, charismatic self. She wanted someone to take candid shots with an “old-timey” camera.

  Well, fine. He would take photos, he thought, as he knocked on Dahlia’s door. He would document every down-and-dirty thing that happened at this party, and then he’d use the photos to stop people from treating him like crap. Specifically Parker Addison and his loyal henchman, Brett Carmichael.

  But things didn’t go as Gavin planned. For once, Dahlia was actually being nice, draping her arm around his shoulder and offering him a beer. It felt good to be welcomed, even though Gavin had no illusions of unt
apped popularity. He prided himself on not being that shallow. Still, Dahlia’s giggle was infectious, and she kept offering him booze, snacks, even trunks to swim in, if the mood struck him—Dahlia’s pool was legendary, both for its size and its reputation as a prime make-out spot. He started to feel wanted. He started to feel warm. When Parker burst into the party, waving at Gavin like they were best friends, he thought he’d fallen into a vortex where everything he wanted would fall right into his lap, and he wouldn’t have to use blackmail to get it.

  He was dead wrong.

  + + +

  Juniper could see eyes watching from the forest. Three tentative steps later, she realized they were Shane’s. She recognized that shock of black hair, half hiding his face. She recognized those gangly limbs, angular and sharp-edged as glass. She didn’t know what Ruby saw in this guy, but then again, she never knew what Ruby saw in guys.

  Maybe that was why she’d come to the party. Looking back, she couldn’t quite separate illusion from reality. Was she really trying to protect Ruby from another abusive guy? Or was she pissed that Shane had turned out like the others, and she wanted revenge? Juniper didn’t think of herself as a vengeful person, but she’d been angry for so long.

  At Parker.

  At Ruby’s dad.

  She approached Shane cautiously. “You came,” she said, keeping five feet of distance between them. “Ruby said you would.”

  Shane inhaled slowly, eyeing her with an animal’s wariness. Clearly, he trusted her as much as she trusted him. “She told you about us?” he asked after a minute.

  Juniper nodded, wrapping her arms around herself. “She told me something else. She said, um . . .” She chuckled, shaking her head. “She said you didn’t make that video.”

  “I didn’t.”

  No pause. No hesitation. Of course, a practiced liar like Parker wouldn’t have waited to think about his story, and Ruby tended to have a type. “So, a camera just happened to set itself up on the exact—”

  “Oh, I’d say there was no coincidence about it.”

  Huh. She hadn’t expected that, and now she was stepping closer, wanting to hear more. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He was supposed to be following her around, begging for a chance to explain. But he wasn’t. He was guarded, locked up tight like Ruby herself, and something about that made Juniper want to get inside.

  “Look, you can’t stay in the woods all night. Nothing says ‘creepy stalker’ like a guy peering out of the shadows. If you want people to think you’re innocent—”

  “I don’t care what people think. I only care about her.”

  “She isn’t here.”

  “But she’s supposed to be. Something’s happening, Juniper.” He stepped forward, and she stepped back. “I don’t have all the pieces yet, but last night, somebody made that video to set me up. Now I can’t find my phone—”

  “Yeah, somebody made the video. Somebody with straight black hair. Like, I don’t know . . . yours? Or, hey, maybe your sister did it. You are twins, after all.”

  Shane huffed, shaking his head in annoyance. Or was it disgust? “My sister’s been locked in her room for the past twenty-four hours. It’s something she does sometimes. After our mom died . . .” He trailed off, clearly not wanting to share anything too personal. “She’d never do this.”

  “Who would?”

  “Who do you think?” When Shane fixed her with that piercing gaze, Juniper felt the world shift. She felt all the atoms break apart and rearrange themselves, revealing what had been hidden before. Hidden, yet obvious.

  “No,” she murmured. “No, it’s not possible.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “I mean, what did he do? Cut the tail off a horse? Buy a wig from the Halloween store?” The idea wasn’t that outlandish. Parker was notorious for trying to tie Ruby down, and seeing her tie Shane up . . . like, literally tie him up . . . could’ve made him snap.

  Still, the world was full of manipulative people, and believing in some grand conspiracy when the culprit was right in front of her was foolish. Probably, it was foolish. Oh, crap. She was starting to believe him.

  “Look, you don’t have to convince me that Parker Addison is a stalker. But why bother with a wig? The video alone would’ve convinced people you were guilty.”

  “I never said there was a wig,” Shane said, gesturing to the front window of Dahlia’s mansion. Her brightly lit foyer was brimming with people. The gold wallpaper made everyone sparkle, and Juniper could barely make out a face among the glimmer of bodies.

  But she could make out a camera.

  The Polaroid had been purchased in an online auction at the beginning of freshman year. Its owner had gone out for the Fallen Oaks Forecast, hoping to become the school’s newest reporter, but the faculty advisor had relegated him to photography instead. Two years later, people were still asking him to take pictures.

  “Gavin?” Juniper scoffed, still looking through the window. “Okay, if you knew him at all, you’d know how ridiculous—” She broke off in midsentence. An arm was sliding around Gavin’s shoulders, guiding him toward the hallway. That arm belonged to a body. That body belonged to a blond.

  “Parker hates Gavin. Gavin hates Parker, like he hates—”

  “Who, Brett? The guy who’s been stationed outside Ruby’s house all day?”

  Juniper spun around, gawking at Shane. “Brett’s over there?” Well, that didn’t prove anything. Not necessarily. If Shane had made the video of Ruby, it made sense that Parker would send his muscle over there to keep her protected.

  Protected, or isolated.

  “We could drive over there together.” Shane gestured to the road. “Brett won’t attack if—”

  “I’m not getting into your car. How stupid do you think I am?”

  “I don’t. You’re not.” He held up his hands, backing away. “Just forget it, okay? You have no reason to trust me.”

  “You’re right.”

  “But what if I could prove it to you?”

  Juniper froze. It wasn’t due to the low temperature, or the fact that she was wearing a flimsy jacket over her camisole and jeans. She’d been all set to move until he said that.

  “Prove it how?” she asked, still keeping her distance. “Parker will never admit to guilt. And I sincerely doubt someone made a video of the video being made, so . . .”

  “The truth is in there.” Shane pointed to the house, though Parker had disappeared from the foyer. Gavin had disappeared too. “If we go inside, and Gavin sees us together, you’ll be able to read his reaction.”

  “I don’t know,” she said, but deep down, she suspected he was right. Gavin liked staying on her good side. If he knew anything about the video, he wouldn’t be able to hide it. And honestly, it wouldn’t be so terrible to attend a party. To pick up a beer and pretend to be like everyone else, when all the while, she’d be watching. Watching Parker. Watching Shane.

  “I’ll stay for one drink,” she said finally. “If you haven’t convinced me by then, you’re on your own.”

  + + +

  By the time Parker arrived at the party, Gavin was drunk. He’d only ever had a couple of beers before this. When Parker waved at him, Gavin narrowed his eyes, looking behind his back.

  Parker laughed, mouthing, “You.”

  Gavin turned all kinds of red. He could feel it, as Parker made a beeline for him. Draping one arm over his shoulders, Parker boomed, “Dude! I need your help with something. Can you follow?”

  Gavin was perplexed, but caught up in Parker’s half bear hug, he didn’t have much choice but to stumble along to the closest bedroom. Parker closed the door behind them, making Gavin’s stomach drop. “What do you—”

  “What the hell is that punk doing here?” Parker demanded, pointing toward the window.

  Gavin was confused. He was usually the punk on Parker’s bad side. “I . . .”

  “First he defiles my girl, and then he has the nerve to show up at my friend’s party?
Like, what the hell is he thinking? We have to teach him a lesson.”

  “We?”

  “Duh.” Parker knelt in front of Gavin, who’d plunked onto the bed to keep the room from spinning. “You and me.”

  “Where’s your friend? You know, the bald, pummel-fisted traitor?”

  “Oh, him?” Parker said, not even flinching at Gavin’s drunken honesty. “He’s taking care of my girl. She’s trying to be brave, but . . .”

  “What happened?” Gavin asked, smiling when the room righted itself. He wasn’t that drunk. He just needed to eat something. “Did he really—”

  “Yes, and worse,” Parker confirmed. “I don’t want to get into what she told me. It’s too messed up.” His fists tightened, and Gavin thought Parker might hit him. But tonight, for once, he wasn’t Parker’s target. An actual asshole was. A guy who deserved to be hit.

  “Why should I help you?” Gavin asked. He looked around the room for something to pop into his mouth. Someone had been eating pizza rolls earlier. Then he remembered they were in the bedroom and the food was out there.

  “Don’t do it for me. Do it for Shane’s next target,” Parker said, striding to the window. He parted the curtains, beckoning Gavin closer. “Notice anything?”

  Gavin’s heart dropped to his knees. There, on the edge of the forest, was Shane Ferrick, and he was talking to someone all too familiar. Juniper Torres. “She’s probably telling him off,” Gavin said, waving a hand dismissively.

  “Doesn’t look like she’s telling him off.”

  It was true. Juniper was inching toward Shane, rather than away from him, and after a minute, the two made their way to the house. Together. “Well, maybe she’s getting his side of the story,” Gavin reasoned. “Just to poke holes in it, you know? Expose him.”

  “What if we exposed him first?”

  “How? I’m not going to attack the guy.”

  “You don’t have to attack him. You just have to make sure he gets good and drunk, and then . . .” Parker dug around in his pocket, tossing a bright red Sharpie into Gavin’s hand. “You mark him as a deviant. Then he can hit on whoever he wants, and they’ll see exactly who he is. He won’t be able to hide it.”