Lies We Share: A Prologue

by Ella Miles

  Now it will be just him and his father.

  I keep the crying up, and Langston eventually looks at me. He laughs quietly when he sees my dramatic acting.

  Finally, the woman releases me.

  “I want to go see my brother.”

  “Of course, sweetie. You two should be together.”

  I walk over to Langston with tears still dripping out of my eyes.

  “You’re a terrible actress,” he says teasingly when I walk over.

  I wipe my tears on the back of my T-shirt. “I fooled her, so I can’t be that bad.”

  He grins.

  And then we link our hands. “Thank you,” he says.

  “For what?” I frown, not understanding why he’s thanking me.

  “For crying, even though you hate it, so you can be here with me.”

  I squeeze his hand. I’m beginning to think I’d do anything for this boy. Fake crying so I can hold his hand while he mourns his mother barely touches the surface of what I’d do.

  3

  Langston

  Today should be the worst day of my life.

  I’m burying my mother today.

  Today is the worst day of my life, but not because today is my mother’s funeral.

  Today is the worst day of my life because of what I’m going to have to tell Liesel.

  I’m wearing an oversized suit my father got at Goodwill and sitting in the front pew of the church next to my father.

  There are a dozen or so people sitting behind us as the preacher talks. I don’t listen. All I can think about is what I’m going to say to Liesel.

  How am I going to break the news?

  I can’t even believe it myself.

  I’m thankful for the time in the church. At first, I thought I wanted Liesel sitting next to me. Right now, I couldn’t be happier that my father didn’t allow it and that she’s sitting three pews back. As long as we aren’t together, I don’t have to tell her.

  Too soon, the funeral ends. The preacher stops talking, and my father and I stand as we follow the casket out of the church. The cemetery is next to the church, so we don’t have to drive anywhere. We just walk to her grave with the small congregation of people behind us. I don’t look back even though I can feel Liesel’s stare, trying to reach out and comfort me.

  I’m not the one who needs comfort, though.

  Time moves too fast.

  The preacher speaks more words.

  My mother’s casket is lowered into the ground.

  And just like that—it’s over.

  My father gives me a stern look. “I expect you home in an hour.”

  I nod. He walks to the car and drives off.

  A few people approach me, giving me their condolences.

  I just stand, staring at my mother’s gravestone like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Reading my mother’s name, dates of birth and death, and the words ‘Beloved mother and wife’ over and over to avoid what comes next.

  Liesel doesn’t speak. She just takes my hand like she did in the house three days ago when I woke to find my mother had overdosed on fentanyl.

  I already know that isn’t true. My father killed her. He slipped her the extra pills. He wanted her gone, so he got rid of her.

  And then I feel something thorny being pushed in my other hand. I look down and see that Liesel has shoved a single rose-like flower into my hand.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t afford more, but I think your mom would have liked it,” she says.

  I stare at the flower, similar to a rose but not. It’s pretty—my mother would have liked it.

  I look up at my mother’s grave and then all the others around it. The surrounding graves have flowers. My mother’s is bare.

  The bastard didn’t even spend money on flowers!

  I feel the tear slipping down my cheek. I’ll cry waterfalls later when I’m alone in the house. Right now, the single tear is enough.

  I step forward, and Liesel steps right with me. Together we place the single flower at the base of my mother’s grave.

  “Goodbye, Mom,” I whisper, keeping my tears and pain inside the best that I can.

  Liesel pulls me into a hug. She isn’t one for emotion. She’s not a hugger, but in this moment, she is.

  The embrace only makes me sob harder until there is snot running down my face and onto the shoulder of her black dress.

  “I’m sorry.” I let go of her as I suck the snot back in and try to compose myself. There are more important things to worry about than the loss of my mother right now.

  Liesel’s eyes flick right then left over my face. “What is it?”

  How does she always know when something is wrong with me?

  “We’re moving,” I spit out before I lose my nerve.

  Her mouth falls, and tears spring into her eyes for the first time.

  “But…your mom just died.”

  “Dad’s remarrying some rich woman.”

  “Oh.”

  I don’t have to tell Liesel what that means. I don’t have to tell her that my father killed my mother. She can put the pieces together as easily as I did.

  “He’ll pay for this. Someday, he’ll pay,” Liesel says, her voice lower and grittier than before.

  I nod, agreeing. One day my father will suffer for all of his sins—none worse than killing my mother.

  Right now, I don’t need to worry about my father though.

  “Come on, we don’t have much time.” I grab Liesel’s hand again and drag her over to the empty field behind the church.

  “What are we doing?”

  “I have a lot to teach you before I leave.” Pain strikes my heart when I say the word—leave. I can’t imagine leaving this girl. Not seeing her every day. Not talking. Not being in her life. It can’t be true.

  I let go of her hand and face her.

  “Okay, first lesson, self-defense,” I start.

  “I know how to defend myself.” She folds her arms and pouts, offended.

  “Do you?”

  She nods furiously.

  We are relatively close in size. I have maybe an inch on her, but soon the boys at school will tower over her. They’ll have more muscle and strength than she’ll ever dream about. Not to mention all the creepy uncles and neighbors that Liesel will interact with in her life. She needs to be able to protect herself if I’m not here to do it.

  I grab her, throwing my arms as tightly as I can around her, already knowing that I’m stronger than she is.

  She wiggles in my arms. “Let me go, you asshole.”

  I hold her tighter.

  “You can do this, huntress. Don’t panic, think of a way to escape. Find my weakness and exploit it. Then run.”

  She stops struggling and thinks for a moment.

  I search her eyes, trying to guess what she’s going to do before she does it, preparing myself for her move.

  Her knee pummels into my groin. I immediately release her, and she takes a step back, laughing lightly as I double over in pain.

  “That’s not funny,” I say, my voice squeaking from the pain.

  “It is to me.”

  “I told you to run after you got free.”

  “I know how to run. What’s the next lesson you’re worried about before you leave? Going to teach me how to kill too?”

  We’ve never talked about it, but she knows what I’m capable of. I don’t know how or why, but my future will involve killing people. It’s not abnormal for our neighborhood; you either kill or be killed. My father tops the list of people that deserve to die. I’m too small to accomplish the task now, but soon…

  I haven’t killed yet, but I know how to hold a gun. I know how to use a knife; all I’m waiting for are my muscles to come in and the right opportunity.

  But Liesel will never have to kill. I won’t allow her soul to be in the torment to which mine is destined.

  “No. We keep our promises. You’ll hunt when I need you to.”

  “And you’l
l kill for me,” she whispers back.

  I nod. “I won’t let you kill. I’ll kill for you. No matter where I live. No matter where I go to school. I promise you.”

  She exhales a heavy breath.

  “And you promise you’ll never kill? You will call me and let me do it?”

  “Yes,” she says.

  I’ll hold her to that.

  I don’t have to worry about her killing to survive. I taught her the basics for protection, although, she’ll need more lessons. What’s more worrying is that she doesn’t have any money or food. I’ve stolen food and money for us when we needed it. None of our parents can provide such simple things. At eight, we already have to feed ourselves.

  I glance at my watch. Forty-five minutes until Dad said I needed to be home—it’s not enough time.

  “You need money,” I say. I’m hoping that after my dad remarries his new wife will be gracious enough to give me money to help support Liesel. But until then, I need to ensure Liesel has money for food.

  She opens her mouth to disagree but then snaps it shut. She knows she needs money.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “We are going to steal it from someone who doesn’t need it. Okay, huntress?”

  “And where are we going to find someone around here who doesn’t need money?”

  I frown. I honestly have no idea.

  “You’re the huntress. Do you have any ideas?” I ask, embarrassed that I don’t have an idea of how to help her.

  She smiles. “Maybe.”

  I grin along with her.

  “Do you have money for bus fare?” she asks.

  I reach into my pocket and pull the twenty-dollar bill out—the only money I have left.

  “This enough?”

  “It’ll have to be.”

  We spend the next twenty minutes on the bus driving toward the beach. We’ve ridden the bus this way before, but usually to enjoy the beach, not to steal.

  We stand on the crowded beach. I suggested we go to an area with shops and stores, but Liesel disagreed.

  “Okay, we’re here. Nothing but tourists for miles.”

  She grins. “Exactly. Tourists swimming in the ocean, leaving their belongings on the beach. And tourists always have cash.”

  I suck in a breath. “I hope you’re right.”

  “I am. I hunted, it’s your turn to go in for the kill.”

  I laugh. “Stay right here. I’ll be back soon with plenty of moola.”

  She stands on the edge of the beach as I jog along the tourists’ belongings, looking for an easy target.

  Liesel was right—there are unattended bags everywhere. But if I start going through belongings, I’m going to draw attention to myself. So rather than going through every bag, I pick my targets carefully, only selecting bags where the wallets are already in plain sight.

  I snatch a wallet and pull out the cash before dropping it back down before anyone notices.

  I do this three more times, collecting almost two hundred dollars and then run back to Liesel. It should be enough for a while, but not enough to grow up on. She needs money for years. Money to feed her, clothe her, send her to dance classes or let her join the softball league. Money she’ll never have. Money I’ll never be able to give her.

  “Here,” I say, shoving the money into her hands.

  “Wow, that’s a lot of money. Um…maybe you should keep some of it.”

  “I won’t need it where I’m going.”

  She nods slowly in understanding and fists the money.

  I glance at my watch. I’m officially a half-hour late. I know the beating I’ll have to endure for being late, but I don’t care. Tomorrow, we leave. Tonight, I’m spending every second with this girl.

  4

  Liesel

  We sit in comfortable silence on the bus ride home as I hold more money in my fist than I’ve ever held in my life because of this boy—this boy I’m about to lose.

  It’s more than him just moving away; there is something else happening. I don’t understand what it is, but I can feel it in my bones. After tonight, everything changes.

  The bus stops. We climb off and start walking the five blocks to our houses.

  “You need to go home?” I ask.

  Langston looks down, shuffling his feet with his hands in the pockets of his suit.

  “No. I think we should camp under the stars tonight. One last epic night together.”

  “We don’t have any camping equipment. How are we going to camp?” I really wish he’d stop insinuating that this is the end. We’ll see each other again; it will just be different and less frequent.

  “It’s summer. I’ll get us a thick comforter to lay on and some snacks. We can camp in the woods behind your house.”

  “Okay.”

  We separate at our houses.

  I walk in the front door already knowing my mother has to work and isn’t home. I glance out back as I enter and see Langston sneaking in the backyard a few minutes later.

  He lied.

  His father expects him home. I can feel it in my bones. But I’m too selfish to give up my last night with Langston so that his father doesn’t beat him.

  I quickly change into jean shorts and the T-shirt Langston gave me for my birthday that has a warrior princess on the front. The princess looks like she’s about to go hunting. I pull my hair up in a ponytail and consider where I should hide the money we just stole.

  I decide on the floorboard beneath my bed and shove the money deep inside, hoping my mother doesn’t find it.

  I walk back outside and find Langston already waiting. He too changed into more casual clothes—ripped jeans, a black T-shirt, and baseball cap. Years of sneaking around have made it easy for him to quickly step in and out of his house without his father noticing.

  “Ready, killer?”

  He smiles as I say his nickname. He swings a backpack over his shoulder, and then we head into the woods behind my house.

  The sun is just beginning to set as Langston lays out the large blanket from his backpack.

  We sit down on the blanket, surrounded by trees. For a moment, it feels like we are in our own little world. The real world no longer exists.

  Langston pulls two Snickers bars out of his backpack and tosses one to me. I catch it with a smile.

  Snickers are our favorite. They’re cheap and filling and delicious.

  “So, where are you moving to exactly?” I ask, biting into my candy bar.

  Langston’s eyes cut to me with a wary expression. “Palm Beach.”

  “Oh, wow. So this woman is really rich.”

  He nods and stops eating.

  I do the same.

  “I don’t want you to worry, Liesel. This isn’t the end. Our relationship won’t change. We just won’t see each other as often, but we can still count on each other. Always.”

  “I know.”

  “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this anymore tonight. Tomorrow is for goodbyes and tears; tonight is for making memories.”

  “Yea, we should enjoy our last night before you move.”

  “What should we talk about?” I take another bite of my Snickers bar, savoring each bite.

  He lays back on the blanket.

  I do as well.

  We stare up at the sky, now shades of orange and red—the last moments before the sun sets.

  “About a future that we can control. One where we aren’t poor. One where we can live the life we want.”

  I frown as I look over at him. “But we never dream. What’s the point?”

  “The point is that the one benefit of my new life is that I just might be able to get us the life we want someday.”

  I take the last bite of my Snickers bar. He does the same.

  Langston is so optimistic. His life might change for the better, but I’m destined to be stuck in this town forever.

  I just smile at Langston. I don’t care what we talk about tonight. I only want to spend it with him.


  “You start. What do you want, killer?”

  “First, I want everyone to call me killer. I want to be the strongest badass I know. I want to be in complete control and be able to take on any foe.”

  As he speaks, I know that will someday come true.

  “What about you?” he asks.

  I stretch my arms up and place them behind my head, thinking about a question I’ve never thought before. Most eight-year-olds have already thought about what they want to be when they grow up. They dream of becoming doctors, teachers, president, astronauts. I just dream of a day when I won’t have to worry if the meal I just ate is going to have to last me days or hours.

  “I just want to live in a world where I have enough money to buy as much food as I want and have a real bed in my own bedroom.”

  “That’s not a dream. That’s going to happen. Dream bigger. What job do you want?”

  “Lawyer,” I answer automatically. That seems like the kind of job where you can make a change in other people’s lives.

  “Where do you want to live? Beach, mountains, city?”

  “Definitely the beach.” I like Miami’s warm weather. I can’t imagine living anywhere else.

  “Me too. The mountains are too cold, and the city is too busy. I want to live on my own private island.”

  My eyebrows raise. “We’re really dreaming big.”

  “Absolutely. But I can’t figure out what I want my house to look like.”

  “Ooh, I can help with that. It should be big and made of glass,” I say as I relax my arms to my side again.

  “Glass? Doesn’t that mean it will be easier to break?”

  I laugh. “No, it will be full of light. You’ll have views of the ocean from every room.”

  “I like that. And it needs a big kitchen. One that can cook a meal for a dozen people.”

  “And an infinity pool!”

  “And a huge balcony!”

  “A bathroom outside!”

  “A deck covered in vines and greenery that makes it feel like we are living in the jungle.”

  I look up at the stars.

  “And the clearest view of the moon and stars,” I say.

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