Tell Me Pretty Lies(5)
“Okay, fine. These losers are still talking about it,” Valen says. “But that doesn’t mean anything. It’s senior year, and you’re Shayne fucking Courtland.”
I shake my head, but a small smile tugs at my lips. My name means absolutely nothing. In fact, it’s more of a scarlet letter than a badge of honor these days, much to my late grandmother’s dismay. My mom grew up here, and apparently, she wasn’t exactly the perfect little debutante they expected her to be. I’m not sure of the details, but after a falling-out with her parents, she moved away at a young age. Both Grey and I were born out of wedlock, which apparently was still frowned upon here like it’s 1952. Our father left when I was too young to remember, and all I have left is a single, faded picture.
When my mom returned to Sawyer Point to visit her parents for the first time in over fifteen years, she managed to snag August Ames, CEO of AmesAir, without so much as batting an eye. That made her the talk of the town, and when she dragged my brother and me to live at Whittemore, it made me the shiny new toy at Sawyer Point High. Rumors weren’t exactly a novel concept for me. I didn’t expect it to last more than six months with her track record, but she stuck around for two whole miraculous years. Sometimes, I wonder if she would have stayed with August for good, if not for Danny’s accident.
“Solid pep talk.”
Valen shrugs. “It’s true.”
The first bell rings and I hitch my backpack onto my shoulder, straightening my spine. Valen hooks her arm through mine and I blow out a breath. “Let’s do this.”
We make our way across the student parking lot, through the clusters of cliques, heads held high. It starts immediately—the hushed whispers, the furtive glances. With each step, they get louder, bolder, more obvious.
“I heard she got caught fucking one of the Ames brothers, so they sent her away.”
“Well, I heard she was having an affair with their dad.”
Gross.
“I heard she pushed Danny because he wouldn’t date her.”
Okay, that last one hurt. But I ignore it all, teeth clenched tight to keep from saying anything.
“You have English first period?” Valen asks as we push through the double doors, heading into the main hall, the familiar scent of cafeteria food and a hint of bleach hitting me immediately. We’ve compared schedules, and unfortunately, we don’t have any classes together this semester.
“Uh, yeah,” I say, pulling out my phone to double-check my schedule. “I think my locker’s down here,” I say, gesturing to the row of shiny red ones that lines the walls.
“Lame. Mine’s up there.” She points a finger toward the second floor. “It’s like the universe is intentionally trying to separate us.”
“Do you have first or second lunch today?” I ask, running my finger along the cool metal lockers until I find my number.
“Second.” She scrunches her nose.
“At least we have that together. Text me.”
Valen salutes me before spinning on her heels, walking toward the stairs at the end of the hall. I hesitate at my locker, watching her space buns bounce through the crowd until she’s no longer in sight. This isn’t my first year at Sawyer Point. Same school. Same people. But somehow, everything feels different. Because everything has changed.
The minute bell propels me into motion, and I decide to worry about my locker later, keeping my backpack on me. When I make it to English, most people are already seated, and every head whips in my direction. I don’t make eye contact with a single one of them. Mrs. Roberts—who’s surprisingly intimidating for someone who can’t be over four-foot-ten—gives me a pointed look, motioning for me to sit down with her chin.
I drop my bag onto a desk in the back of the class before taking my seat. I pull out my notebook and a pencil, and when I look back up again, everyone is still staring.
“What?” I snap, already fed up, and it’s not even eight A.M.
Some smirk and giggle, but most of them look away. Mrs. Roberts clears her throat, redirecting everyone’s attention as she starts to pass out the class syllabus, and for now, I’m all but forgotten.
Until next period.
“Okay, so maybe I overreacted,” I confess.
“Ya think?” Valen deadpans around the straw of her iced coffee from Dunkin’ Donuts. She sucks the rest of it down and tosses it into the trash. Having only forty-five minutes for lunch, our food and beverage options are limited. Living in Sawyer Point narrows the list even further, but you can’t throw a rock without hitting a Dunkin’. Most people stay on campus for lunch. Plus, the food here is exponentially superior to the stuff that passes for food at Shadow Ridge. Valen indulged me when I said I wanted to go off-campus today, but I doubt I’ll get a pass for long.
“Shut up.” I laugh, nudging her shoulder with mine. I’ve made it through all but one of my other classes relatively unscathed. Honestly, it wasn’t nearly as bad as I thought it would be. The curious looks and muffled remarks didn’t cease, but it didn’t go beyond that. I expected that much—worse, if I’m being honest. I figure if I lie low, someone will screw a teacher or something and eventually, I’ll be old news.
We part ways, planning to meet at her car, and when I walk into world history, I’m feeling cautiously optimistic. But the fleeting feeling dies, the faint smile slipping from my face when I see him. Dark brown hair a little shorter than Thayer’s and thick lips above his square chin and sharp jaw.