Lies We Share

by Ella Miles

  Langston’s hand intertwines with mine. “That’s the most important part.”

  “So that’s your house. Where will I live?” I ask.

  “In the house with me.”

  “You mean as your wife?”

  He shrugs. “Maybe, or maybe we’d live there as friends. Would it be so bad, being married to me?”

  “I don’t know. We’re eight. And all the marriages I’ve seen have failed. I don’t want us to fail.”

  “Maybe we should kiss and see how we like it. That way, we’ll know if we should be married or just live there as friends.”

  I’ve never thought of kissing a boy before. But I know Danica in my class kissed Ian last week.

  “Okay, kiss me then.” I sit up, leaning on one elbow.

  Langston leans on his elbow, facing me. It’s beginning to get dark outside, but I can tell he’s nervous. He’s hesitant. I don’t understand why. It’s only a kiss.

  “Kiss me, killer.”

  Then his lips are pressed against mine. Our noses bump. Somehow, I end up biting his bottom lip.

  “Ow,” he says as we both pull away.

  Then we laugh.

  “Well, I guess that answers that,” I say.

  “Yep, friends it is,” Langston says.

  I smile, as we both lay back on the blanket and start trying to make images out of the stars.

  For some reason, I can’t get that kiss out of my head. Langston was my first kiss. It seemed terrible. I don’t understand why anyone would want to kiss. But then again, I’m eight.

  I snuggle up to Langston as we begin to drift off to sleep. I feel his steady heartbeat. I know what he’s risking staying with me tonight. I won’t let him get hurt for me. It may not be part of our pact, but I make a silent promise to myself to never let him get hurt. Tomorrow, I’ll do what I can to keep that vow.

  I wake up before dawn, knowing that Langston will wake as soon as the sun touches his face. I have very little time to do this.

  Carefully, I rise off Langston’s arm.

  He doesn’t move.

  I smile at my sleeping boy. Then I grab the T-shirt, hat, and jeans he took off when it got too hot last night. He’s sleeping on the blanket only in his boxers.

  I run off back to my house through the early morning hours. Once inside, I quickly throw on Langston’s clothes.

  His jeans and T-shirt fit pretty well since we are about the same size. Then I pull my hair up in a bun and shove it under my hat.

  I look at myself in the mirror in the bathroom. Everything girly about me is gone. If I have to speak, this won’t work. But I have to try. I have to try to protect the boy who always protects me.

  I run across the street as the sun begins to climb.

  I glance back and don’t see Langston following me. He’s going to be pissed, but I don’t care. I have to do this for him, just like he would for me.

  I take a deep breath when I reach the front door, trying to prepare myself. I’ve dealt with more pain than most eight-year-olds have. I know what it feels like to be hungry. To sleep alone. To fear someone will break in and hurt you at night.

  But I’ve never been physically hurt before.

  I push the hat down as low as I can over my eyes and push the door open loudly. I practically stomp inside, ensuring that anyone inside can hear me.

  “I told you to be home an hour after the funeral,” Langston’s father says in a booming voice.

  I don’t look up, but I see his boot covered feet in front of me.

  “I had to stay up all night to get your shit packed because you ran off.”

  He wasn’t worried where Langston was. Missing free labor and not being able to sit back and drink beer all night were his only concerns.

  “Look at me, boy!”

  I don’t.

  That pushes him over the edge.

  Slap.

  I feel it hard across my cheek. My instinct is to run. Or, at the very least, try and fight back to protect myself.

  I can’t. I have to endure this for Langston. Spending his final night with me shouldn’t get him beaten.

  “You stupid fucking son of a bitch.”

  A punch to my chest knocks me to the ground. I land hard on my ass. I’m going to have a bruise in both places.

  I focus my energy on keeping my face pointed at the ground to hide my true identity from Mr. Pearce. From the smell of alcohol oozing off his breath, I doubt he’d look close enough to notice, though.

  Kick.

  My body flings from his boot in my back. I’m not much of a crier, but that does it. I can’t hold back my tears. For the first time, I realize why Langston is a crier. There is no other way to deal with this kind of pain except to cry.

  I dissolve into my body as the pain wrecks me. My sensitive skin bruises while my ribs crunch as he kicks me over and over.

  I’ve lost track of how many times he’s kicked me.

  His curse words have all muffled together.

  Without warning, he grabs my arm and forces me into a standing position.

  “Get out of my sight. I can’t look at you. Clean yourself up and come back when you are presentable.” He releases my arm, and I stumble, trying to remain on my feet.

  The world is spinning; tears stream down my cheeks, everything in my body hurts. But somehow I stay upright.

  “Cynthia will be here at five to pick us up and take us to our new home. If you are one minute late, I’ll beat you until you’re dead. Understand, Langston?”

  I nod. Even if I wanted to speak, I couldn’t.

  “Get out!” he yells.

  Finally, I run.

  Every step I take requires all of my energy, to put one foot in front of the other, to keep from falling flat on my face.

  This is Langston’s life. This will always be his life until he’s old enough to put a stop to it. He might be getting a fancier house to live in, but it won’t stop his father.

  At least I was able to prevent one more beating he had to endure. If I could, I’d take all the pain for him, but I can’t.

  As soon as I’m out of the house, I consider my options.

  I thought I’d be able to go back to my house afterward. I could change clothes, put on a couple of bandaids and tell Langston I fell off my bike or something. But there is no hiding what I did—no hiding the bruises, the blood, the tears.

  Langston will be pissed at me. He’ll be angry and might even confront his dad, which would make everything I did moot. I’m not going to let that happen.

  Yesterday was about making memories together.

  Today was supposed to be about saying goodbye. About finding a way to connect in our new normal.

  New tears spring.

  We just lost our last day together because of me.

  But I saved him from a beating. It was worth it. Even if I don’t say goodbye.

  I can’t stay here.

  Langston will eventually go home after he looks for me. I just have to make sure he shows up by five o’clock.

  I run into my house and find a utility bill on the counter. I turn the envelope over and grab a marker before writing Langston a note.

  * * *

  Killer,

  * * *

  I had to go with my mom to work today. I’ll try to make it back before you leave at five. If I don’t make it back in time, I’ll see you soon.

  * * *

  —Huntress

  * * *

  I grab some of the cash Langston and I stole, and then I leave. I’m not sure if I’ll return in time to see Langston before he leaves, but I can’t spend the entire day with him. He’d figure it out, and that would break me worse than Mr. Pearce’s boot did.

  The seconds, minutes, hours drag as I ride the bus to the mall and buy some new clothes that fit me, covering my arms and legs. I look at myself in the mirror in the public bathroom. The only visible mark now is where he grabbed my neck.

  I brush my hair so it hangs down over my neck, making it that
much harder for anyone to notice.

  Finally, I take the four-thirty bus back home.

  I don’t know if I’ll make it in time to see Langston before he leaves. I leave it up to fate.

  I walk down our street at ten til five.

  I’m not sure what to do. Do I go over to Langston’s? Or do I just go to my own house and try to forget about the boy?

  “I didn’t think you’d show,” Langston says from his house’s doorstep, making my decision for me.

  “I’m sorry, I did everything I could to get back. Mom needed me to help her clean houses—”

  “Liar.”

  I frown.

  “Your mother got home at noon. Want to try another lie, or do you want to tell me why you didn’t spend my last day here with me?” He stands up and starts to approach me.

  A vein is popping in his forehead, but he’s wearing a T-shirt and shorts, and I don’t spot any visible bruises.

  I exhale a sigh of relief. I saved him from a beating. I would give up my last day with him over and over again if it meant I could spare him pain.

  “I’m waiting. What lie are you going to tell me, Liesel?”

  Liesel? He’s pissed. He never calls me Liesel.

  “Hugh, down the street, invited me over. I couldn’t say no. He’s going to be my only friend once you’re gone.”

  “You’re going to replace me, just like that? Like I mean nothing to you?”

  I don’t answer. How he can think that I lied about being with my mother but not about being with a friend is unbelievable. Why wouldn’t I want to be here for my last hours with him?

  He shakes his head. “I can’t believe we were ever friends.”

  His words hurt worse than my cracked ribs.

  I feel the burning of a tear in my eyes, but I don’t let it out.

  I swipe my hair to one side, revealing the bruise, revealing the truth.

  But Langston won’t even look at me. He’s so irate.

  “Langston! Time to go,” Mr. Pearce says as a new Mercedes sedan pulls up.

  Mr. Pearce walks to the front passenger side. A beautiful woman sits in the driver’s seat—his new wife.

  Langston still doesn’t look at me. He just starts walking to the car.

  “Langston,” I whisper, hoping he’ll look at me.

  He’ll give me a hug.

  He’ll say we are still best friends.

  That he’ll call.

  Take care of me.

  That this changes nothing.

  Instead, he climbs into the back of the car without a word, without a glance back.

  I watch in horror as the woman drives off with my best friend. I’m left stunned.

  He left without a goodbye.

  I hate him.

  I shouldn’t have taken the beating for him. It wasn’t worth it.

  I. Hate. Him.

  I fall to the ground in a crumpled ball.

  I hate him.

  But that’s a lie too. I can’t hate him. Not yet. Soon though, I promise to hate him, to make it true. Because everything between us was a lie.

  5

  Langston

  Fifteen Years Old

  * * *

  I’ve spent the last few years pretending that I didn’t know who Liesel Dunn was. That when her mother took a job as a maid in my friend Enzo’s house recently and they moved into his guest house, that I didn’t know her. I pretend that at one point she wasn’t the most important person in my life.

  I pretend she was just a girl, just like all the rest.

  A girl I would try to kiss, maybe even one day fuck before moving on to the next girl, and then the next and the next.

  I pretend that Liesel means nothing to me. I pretend I don’t ask Enzo about his new roommate because I care but just because I have a fascination with all girls. I’m a horny bastard, after all. That’s all it is.

  Zeke truly hates her. He thinks she’s a snob. He doesn’t know that she’s broken. That she only has money because I give money to Enzo, who gives money to her.

  Enzo, on the other hand, likes Liesel. But what do I care?

  He can have the lying whore if he wants.

  I don’t hate her—I just don’t care anymore.

  Liesel has spent the last several years either ignoring me or hating me. She also pretends I was never a part of her life. Yet, she still hangs out with the three of us constantly.

  So annoying.

  “I’m going to need you tonight,” Enzo says as he slams his locker shut.

  I pull my algebra textbook out of my locker. “Just tell me the time and place.”

  Enzo nods.

  I’ve been working for Enzo for the last year. I always knew I would. It was my destiny, as it was Zeke’s. The three of us will conquer the world together. Threatening, stealing, killing to keep the empire that Enzo will one day inherit from his father.

  We are the bad guys now.

  “Do you need me?” Zeke asks.

  Enzo turns to him.

  “I could really use an outlet.” Zeke pounds his fist into his other hand.

  “Who are you guys taking down?” Liesel asks, wrapping her arms around Enzo’s neck.

  He kisses the back of her hand.

  “Nothing you need to worry about, Liesel,” Enzo says.

  Liesel sighs and lets go of him as she makes her way to the middle of the group. She folds her arms as she looks into each of our eyes, trying to get answers. I don’t think she wants to know because she wants to judge us. It’s more because she’s a nosy bitch who wants to be able to control my life like she did when we were little.

  “Finally going to get this one his first kill?” Liesel asks, gesturing in my direction.

  I seethe. She doesn’t know that I’ve already earned her nickname for me. I’ve killed. I don’t know if tonight’s mission is to kill, but if Enzo requires it of me, I will.

  My soul is already lost. I’m evil, and I like it. I won’t let Liesel or anyone else change me.

  Zeke laughs. “Langston isn’t capable of killing a fly, sweetheart. If anyone does the killing, it will be me.”

  Liesel’s eyes dart from Zeke to me. Zeke’s words are true. He’s killed the most of all of us so far. He’s the biggest, the oldest, but Enzo and I will catch up soon. The only reason I don’t have as big of a number as Zeke is because I do most of the behind the scenes work. I’m the most skilled with a computer. I’ve become both the hunter and the killer.

  Liesel searches for the truth in my eyes, but she can no longer read me as easily as she once could.

  When she doesn’t find what she’s looking for, she gives up and turns to Enzo.

  “Walk me to class,” Liesel says, shoving her textbook into Enzo’s hands with a wink.

  She tosses her blonde curled hair over her shoulder as she loops her hand into the crook of Enzo’s arm, and he starts leading her away. I’m left to stare at her ass in a tight black dress with wedge heels, remembering her full face of makeup.

  What the hell was that?

  The only time I’ve ever seen her wear a dress was for my mother’s funeral. I’ve never seen her wear a dress, or makeup, or style her hair like this. High school has changed her. Money has changed her.

  Zeke makes a whipped sound at Enzo, who just flips him off as they round the corner.

  My blood boils.

  I’m not jealous, just pissed. I didn’t think she’d become this fake just to get into Enzo’s pants.

  Not that he cares about her in that way. He might fuck her a couple of times, but he doesn’t love her. He’ll fuck her and then expect her to go right back to being friends like they are now.

  Three hours later, I spot Liesel waiting for Enzo to walk her to lunch.

  I can’t take it anymore.

  “If you’re just looking for someone to break that sweet hymen of yours, look no further,” I say as I approach her with a laugh.

  Liesel folds her arms and stares at me like I’m a demon she wishes she cou
ld send to hell.

  “Why would I want to fuck a puppet like you when I can have sex with the king?”

  I laugh harder. “Enzo? Really? You think he wants to fuck you?”

  “Yes. He does.”

  I shake my head as I put one hand on the wall behind her, leaning close but not too close.

  “Enzo’s like me. He’s a fuck ‘em and leave ‘em type. I don’t think your pretty little heart can take it.”

  I tug on her blonde curls—I can’t resist.

  She bats my hand away.

  “I’m tougher than I look. And I know how to wrap a guy around my finger. If I want Enzo, I’ll have Enzo.”

  I laugh. “Enzo Black will never be yours.”

  She pushes off the wall. “Don’t worry, I’m not planning on stealing him away from you guys. You and Zeke wouldn’t survive without your fearless leader telling you what to do all the time.”

  I growl.

  She smirks victoriously.

  “I’m calling in our pact,” I say, preventing her from walking away.

  “Our pact? Oh, you mean the pact we made when we were five? Before I knew you were a giant asshole?”

  “Friday night. Meet me at Enzo’s. We’re going hunting.”

  She shakes her head and stomps off.

  It’s a test to see if she’ll come—if deep down she still cares.

  Now I just have to wait to see if she shows up or not.

  6

  Liesel

  I finish the braid down the back of my head and then stare at myself in the mirror. I look like Katniss with my braid, all black clothes, and hunter mentality. All I need now is a bow and arrow and I’d be a true hunter.

  Still, I feel ready. This day came a lot sooner than I expected it to. I expected I’d be older, about to leave this town for good. On the other hand, this day couldn’t come fast enough.

  I know without Langston telling me what today is about. There is only one reason he would call on our pact after years of ignoring and hating each other.

  To kill his father.