“Shayne?” my mom calls. “How did volley—” She pushes my bedroom door open, stopping short when she sees Thayer. Her eyes flash to me in question before landing back on the broody boy in my room.
“Thayer,” she says, surprised, bringing a hand to her chest, her slender fingers fidgeting with her necklace.
“Elena.” He doesn’t bother to hide the contempt in his voice or in his expression. My mom eyes him warily, neither one speaking. My mom wasn’t ever the Ames brothers’ favorite person, considering their father’s status and affinity for bringing home gold diggers, so there’s no love lost between them. But this feels different, and I can’t put my finger on why.
“Thayer gave me a ride home from tryouts.” The lie rolls easily off my tongue, and I see Thayer tense out of the corner of my eye. I didn’t even see his car outside, but if she realizes it, she doesn’t call me out on my lie.
“How nice.” Her tone is polite, but her lips tug down into a frown.
“You know me. Always willing to lend your daughter a helping hand.” He winks.
My face burns with a mixture of anger and embarrassment, his meaning not lost on me, and he smirks, knowing exactly what memory is playing in my mind.
“I thought you were at Amherst.” It sounds like an accusation.
“He was just leaving.” I slip between them before he can answer her. The room suddenly feels way too crowded. They follow me down the hall and through the house, not bothering to make small talk. Mom waits behind in the kitchen while I walk him out. I jerk the door open, waving him through with my other hand. His eyes flash toward the kitchen, knowing she’s still within earshot.
“See you soon.”
I’m under no illusion that it’s a simple, friendly goodbye.
It’s a threat.
The next week flies by blissfully uneventful…when it comes to the Ames brothers, anyway. Taylor still got her digs in—pun intended—at tryouts, but where Thayer and Holden are more like hungry wolves, Taylor and Alexis are gnats. Annoying, but harmless. The last day of tryouts was Friday, and the results are to be posted this afternoon in the gym.
“Why do you seem nervous?” Valen asks around a mouthful of yogurt. “You know you’re going to make it.”
“I’m not nervous.”
She pins me with a look, and I roll my eyes, giving up the charade.
“It’s been a while and I’m rusty. What if they throw my ass on JV?”
“The horror!” she mock gasps, her eyes widening comically.
“Shut up.” The truth is, I’m not nervous about making the team. I’m nervous about playing again, period.
“Come on.” She throws her yogurt into the nearest trash can, then pulls me up by my elbow.
“What are you doing?”
“We’re going to confirm that you made the team.”
“We don’t even know if the roster’s up yet.”
Valen flicks her chin toward the hall where I spot Taylor, Alexis, and their friend Addison strutting through the double doors that lead to the lobby connecting the cafeteria and the gym. “I’m betting they do.”
“Fine.”
When we push through the double doors to the gym, a class who doesn’t have first lunch is playing basketball on the court and a group of volleyball girls is huddled around the list in the far corner. As I’m walking, the basketball somehow ends up rolling out of bounds, stopping right before it hits my feet. Aiden spots us, jogging over. We’ve seen each other in passing, but we haven’t said more than a few words together since he brought me home that night. I figured it was a one-time thing.
“Hey,” he says, coming to a stop in front of us. I bend over to pick up the ball, handing it to him. “Let’s hang out again.”
I arch a brow. “Does Holden know you’re talking to me?”
He bends down a little so that he’s closer to my height, as if he’s letting me in on a secret. “Contrary to what you seem to believe, I do think for myself from time to time.”
I chew on my lip, unsure. He’s one of them. And if I’m being honest, there’s still a part of me that feels some misguided sense of loyalty toward Thayer, even though he’s made it crystal clear that he wants nothing to do with me. But it wouldn’t suck to have another friend.
“Fine. I could use a friend,” I say, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. Apparently, I wasn’t as smooth as I thought I was, because his eyebrows shoot up, and he rubs a hand over his smile.
“Damn, Shayne, you’re just gonna friendzone me off the jump like that?”
I laugh, not knowing what to say.
“Relax, I’m fucking with you. Scout’s honor,” he swears, holding a palm to his chest. “Friends it is.” He holds his phone out with his other hand, and I take it, adding myself as a contact.
Before I can respond, Taylor, Alexis, and Addison march up to us.
“Good news, Shayne. You made the team,” Taylor says in her brattiest voice. “Now you can work off that fat ass you acquired over the past year.” I bite my tongue, eyes rolling skyward and patience wearing thin as she slaps my butt and skips off.
“I happen to think your ass is fucking phenomenal.” Aiden smirks, his eyes scanning my body. I try to smile back, but it feels fake on my lips. She’s such an asshole.
“It’s true,” Valen agrees, nodding. “People pay money for asses like yours.”
“Aiden!” someone shouts, throwing their arms up impatiently. I hand his phone back, and as he takes it, his fingers brush mine.
“I’ll text you later.” Then he’s jogging back to his game.
I guess Holden doesn’t have as much influence as I thought.
“You do realize Taylor’s just jealous because you’re getting attention, right?”
“I don’t really care what her deal is.” I don’t let Taylor’s words get to me. At this point, she’ll say anything to make me doubt myself.
We come to a stop at the two pieces of white printer paper taped to the wall. Worming my way through the cluster of girls gathered around, I go straight for the varsity list and run my index finger down the names, stopping when I find mine.
I close my eyes, the tension leaving my shoulders. Yes.
“Weird,” Valen says, looking entirely unsurprised. “Never would’ve guessed that the former captain would’ve made the cut.”
“Excited to have you back, Shayne,” a voice says from behind me, and I turn around to find Coach Jensen approaching. He gives my shoulder a squeeze.
“Thanks, Coach.” I smile, and this time it’s not forced. This is the first time I’ve felt excited about anything at school since last year. Not to mention, it will get my mom off my back.
“Practice starts next week. I’ll see you then.”
I nod, and then he’s walking away.
“We have a few minutes left before lunch is over,” Valen informs me. “Want to grab coffee?”
“I’ll pass. I actually have something to do.”
Her eyes narrow into slits. “Sounds mysterious.”
“Hardly. I have to meet with that counselor chick who’s up my ass. See you later?”
I head toward Ms. Thomas’ office, stopping at my new locker grab my notebook first. I demanded a new one. There was no way in hell I was going to touch the cockroach locker again. Her door is cracked, and when she sees me, she waves me in, phone cradled between her ear and her shoulder. I slip inside, closing the door behind me. When she motions for me to take a seat, I do, pulling out my phone to shoot a quick text to my mom, letting her know I made the team while I wait.
“Sorry about that,” she says, setting the phone back onto the cradle on the wall behind her. “How’s the journaling coming along?”
I chew on my bottom lip, my hands squeezing the edges of my notebook. “It’s not so much journaling in the traditional sense. More like letters and random thoughts scribbled out without any rhyme or reason.”
“Oh?” she asks, eyebrows raised.
“It just kind of
happened,” I admit. “But I’m writing, so it still counts,” I say, defensiveness lacing my tone.
“Of course it counts,” she agrees. “And letters are a very common, very effective medium. Writing down your uncensored thoughts and feelings that you know you’ll never send can be healing.” She holds her hand out. “May I see?”
I hesitate, not wanting her, or anyone for that matter, to see me at my most vulnerable. Bringing the notebook to school is risky enough. If these words ever got into the wrong hands…
“I’m not going to read anything, remember?” she reminds me. “I just want to see that you’re filling pages.”
I huff out a laugh, handing it over. Oh, you’ll find pages, all right.
She takes the notebook from me and flips through the pages quickly with her thumb, eyebrows pulling together at the sheer volume of words. Some are written like notes you’d pass in class, some read more like poems, and others are just incoherent ramblings written sideways, upside down, and everything in between. My heart thumps harder, hoping she doesn’t catch any particularly incriminating information, but then she’s handing it back to me.
“Well?” I prompt, impatient to hear her thoughts and annoyed that I even care.
“I think you’re going to need a new notebook,” she says, her face breaking into a smile. “How do you feel?”
I shrug. “I don’t know yet. I don’t think I like the way it makes me feel, but when I started, I couldn’t stop. So maybe I’m just a masochist.”
That earns me a chuckle. “Well, keep it up. See you in two weeks.”
Shayne
“Okay, ladies, we’re going to wrap it up with a drill some of you will remember well. It’s called Hyperventilate.”
A chorus of groans echoes throughout the gym because yes, it’s exactly as fun as it sounds. Which is to say not at all.
“So you do remember.” Coach laughs. “But it’s crucial for you girls to be aggressive. You can’t be afraid to hit the floor. Shayne,” he says, turning to look at me. “Up here.”
Relieved that I’m spared this round, I make my way toward the net, my Asics squeaking against the gym floor. I turn around, the net to my back, facing the rest of the team.
“Sarah and Taylor are going to help toss the balls. Since there’s six of you, I want you to pair off and take turns. Three at a time.”
The team splits up into three rows of two while Taylor and Sarah duck under the net, heading for the cart of volleyballs behind me.
“The objective is for you guys to work together to get ten good passes to Shayne. We’ll throw the balls, you pass them to Shayne, turn around and tag your partner’s hand, and then turn back around quick enough to pass again. It goes faster than you think, so be ready. Everyone clear?”
Everyone nods.
“All right, Shayne is going to count until she has ten good passes, then you’ll switch. If your pass sucks, it doesn’t count. It’s at her discretion.”
Coach blows the whistle, then he, Taylor, and our teammate Sarah are hurling balls over the net and the girls scramble to get there in time.
“One!” I shout, catching one before letting it fall to the floor.
It quickly turns to chaos, balls flying in every direction, the girls running and lunging to dig the ball.
“Two!”
“Come on, ladies. Get there, get there!” Coach shouts.
It seems to take forever to get to nine. I can tell the girls are out of breath from running back and forth. They’re losing steam, but finally, they manage to get the last one to me.
“Ten!” I shout, both hands gripping the ball in the air.
Coach blows the whistle, and I turn to face him just in time for a ball to hit the side of my face. Hard.
“What the hell?!” I know before looking that Taylor is responsible, and when I see her fake pout, I know I’m right.
“Oops. Sorry,” she says, dropping her head to the side in mock sympathy.
“I’m so sure you are,” I say, taking a step toward her. But Coach stops me, tugging the back of my tank top to keep me in place.
“Taylor, Shayne, hang back. Everyone else, go home.”
I roll my eyes, inspecting my nails while I wait for everyone else to file out. When just the three of us are left, Coach finally speaks up.
“You two were friends last year,” he says, waiting for one of us to fill him in.
“Things change,” I deadpan.
He looks back and forth between us. Taylor stands there, arms crossed over her chest, bitch face firmly in place.
“Is this going to be a problem?” he asks, a slight edge to his voice.
“No,” we answer in unison.
“Good. First game’s in two weeks,” he warns. “Get it together before then.”
“Fine,” Taylor relents.
“Fine.”
She turns on her heels and takes off for the locker room, but I grab my backpack and gym bag, heading straight for the student lot. I’ll shower and change once I get home. I’m sweaty, tired, and I have the overwhelming urge to introduce my fist to Taylor’s smug face, so it’s best for everyone if I leave now.
With my nose in my phone, reading a text from my mom about getting called in for a last-minute job, I’m not paying much attention to my surroundings. I use my free hand, distractedly fishing my keys out of my backpack, and when I look up, I stop short, seeing Thayer and Holden leaned up against my car, arms crossed over their chests.
My eyes roll, my head dropping to one shoulder. “Whatever this is,” I say, motioning between them, “I’m not in the mood for it today.”
Two sets of hard eyes bore into me, neither one responding.
“Okay…” I say, walking toward my car. Holden is against the hood and Thayer’s to his right, in front of the driver’s side door. I hit the unlock button on my keys, but when I reach for the handle, I’m scooped up and thrown over Thayer’s shoulder, my keys, bags, and phone falling to the pavement.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelp, trying to get out of his hold, but he has one arm banded around my waist and the other around my thighs, making it impossible.
“Get her shit,” he orders before prowling away from my car. I lift my head, twisting around to see Holden’s black Range Rover parked on the other side of the parking lot.
“Put me down!” I kick my feet, trying to wiggle my way out of his hold, to no avail. Holden jogs in front of us and opens the back door before tossing my bags inside.
“Drive,” Thayer tells Holden, then dips his shoulder, shrugging me off into the back seat. I scramble onto my feet, trying to jump out, but then he’s climbing in the back with me, shutting the door behind him.
I scurry backwards to try the other door, but I hear the locks click into place. I unlock it manually, and when I pull on the handle, nothing happens. Thayer doesn’t react. He doesn’t try to stop me, doesn’t send me one of those smug smirks. Boredom shines in his eyes, as if he’s waiting for me to get it out of his system so he can proceed with…whatever his plan is.
“Really? Child locks?” I jiggle the handle hard enough that I think it might break off in my hand.
“If the shoe fits,” Holden says from the driver’s seat. He starts the car, throws it in drive, then peels out of the parking lot. I fall backwards at the sudden movement, hitting my head on the window.
“Ow!” I rub the back of my head, then situate myself, my back against the door, facing Thayer, with my right hand on the front passenger seat to steady myself. “What, the cockroaches and late-night stalking weren’t enough? You’re adding kidnapping to the list?”
“Calm down, drama queen. We just want to ask you some questions.”
“And you couldn’t do that without locking me in your car?” I try to steel my voice, hoping they can’t detect the uneasiness I feel. They won’t hurt me. This is Thayer. Although, I wouldn’t have guessed he’d end up hating me either, but here we are.
“What do you know about my broth
er?”
I cut my eyes toward Holden.
“Not him. My other brother.”
Danny.
“What kind of question is that?”
Thayer hits the headrest behind him with the side of his fist and I flinch, not expecting it. “Don’t play games with me, Shayne.”
“I don’t know anything!”
“Her phone’s locked,” Holden says, reaching back to hand said phone to Thayer over his shoulder.
Thayer takes it, punching in the password, giving me a look I can’t decode when it works. I roll my eyes and look away. I really need to change my password…for everything. I don’t know what he’s hoping to find, but I don’t put up a fight because I know he won’t find anything. I have nothing to hide, especially when it comes to Danny.
“Your brother ignoring you?” he teases, angling the screen toward me, displaying our one-sided text thread.
“He’s busy with school.” I lunge for my phone, but he raises his arm, holding it out of reach. A dark look passes over his features, but he schools it quickly.
“I’m going to ask you one more time. What do you know about Danny?”
I shake my head, confused, and open my mouth to tell him again that I don’t understand, but he cuts me off before I can.
“About…that night,” he clarifies. His jaw is tense, eyes sad, and for a brief second, I forget that he’s holding me here against my will. I forget all the mean things he’s said and done, and I just want to wrap my arms around him. But then his mask slips in place, reminding me that the old Thayer is nowhere to be found.
“You know what I know,” I say quietly, hoping Holden doesn’t pick up on it. I was with him when we found out, after all. “He fell at the falls.” I try not to choke on the words.
“He fell,” he repeats flatly. “Come on, Shayne. You’re going to tell me that you—the girl who listens to murder podcasts and has a conspiracy theory for every goddamn thing—thinks it’s likely that my brother happened to go for a swim in fucking thirty-degree weather? Alone?”
Tell Me Pretty Lies Page 7
