The Lie (Kings of Linwood Academy Book 2)

by Callie Rose

  She lets out a loud, disbelieving laugh, stepping out of the circle of her riveted posse. Trent straightens, pushing away from the bank of lockers.

  “You think anyone cares about absences?” she shrieks. “You’re not welcome here because your mom is a fucking murderer!”

  Oh, hell no.

  I had to stand by and watch as Fox Hill police officers arrested my mother. I had to let them go through her things, rifle through her life, take her car. I’ve visited her in prison, and I’m still trying to make peace with the fact that I couldn’t stop any of this from happening.

  But I haven’t had to deal with someone screaming that she’s a murderer until this exact moment, and it snaps something inside me.

  It happens so fast the rational part of my brain gets completely left behind.

  My mother is the sweetest, gentlest, most optimistic person I’ve ever known, and if you call her a murderer, you better go ahead and call me one too, because I’ll fucking kill you.

  That half-formed thought is the only thing that penetrates my brain as I charge toward Savannah.

  My backpack is gone, abandoned on the floor behind me, and I honestly don’t know what I’m going to do when I reach her, but I sure as hell hope it involves my fingernails and her eyes.

  True fear flashes in her eyes—we already got in a fight once, and it didn’t end all that well for her—but before I can lay a hand on her, strong arms band around my waist, lifting me off the ground like I weigh nothing.

  Dax.

  His sweet clove scent surrounds me like a blanket as he drags me away from the redheaded cheerleader, and motherfucker, why does he keep doing this to me?

  “Let me go! Let me—fucking—go!”

  I struggle in his grip, shoving at his thick forearms, not even caring that I probably look psychotic, not caring that I’m making it look like Savannah is right. That my mom and I are both crazy and violent.

  He doesn’t let go though, and I can’t break free of his hold. He pulls me farther away as Lincoln, River, and Chase step up to Savannah, speaking to her in voices too low for me to hear. Their faces are all tight with anger, and I can see tension bunching Linc’s shoulders.

  But it’s not enough. She doesn’t need to be talked to. She needs to be punched in her big fucking mouth.

  “Goddammit!” I hiss at Dax, renewing my struggles. “Let me go, you asshole!”

  Dax loosens his grip, setting me back on my feet, but when I make a move to sprint toward Savannah, he bear hugs me again, pressing my back to his firm chest.

  “Don’t do it, Low,” he murmurs. “It’s not fucking worth it. You’re on thin ice already with all your absences. Come on. Do you think your mom wants this?”

  That’s not fair.

  That’s so not fair.

  He’s playing dirty, and I’m sure he’s doing it because he knows it’ll work.

  Of course my mom wouldn’t want me to get in trouble. And I can’t give her anything else to worry about right now.

  I deflate in his arms, slumping back against him as I suck in ragged breaths through my nose—but I’ve stopped trying to bum-rush Savannah.

  Mrs. Morrison steps out of a classroom a little ways down the hall, her already stern face looking even more pinched and annoyed than usual. “What’s going on out here?”

  “Nothing,” Lincoln says smoothly, and my stomach flips at his words.

  Didn’t we just do this?

  For a second, I feel like I’m living in some kind of freakish nightmare where a single moment of my life repeats over and over.

  This is just like the night the cops took my mom away.

  Dax’s arms around me, holding me back. Lincoln’s even, measured voice promising he doesn’t know anything. Serious expressions on all the guys’ faces.

  It’s all the fucking same.

  I shove down hard against the copper-haired boy’s arms, and he releases his grip as Mrs. Morrison casts her gaze around the hall. She obviously doesn’t quite believe Lincoln’s words, but she also doesn’t seem that interested in trying to sort out what she missed.

  When she’s sure we’ve all settled down, she steps back into her classroom, and as soon as the door closes, Lincoln’s gaze snaps to Savannah again. He mutters another few words under his breath, and although she clearly hates what he’s saying, she doesn’t challenge him. She shoots a piercing glare at me, flips her hair over her shoulder, and storms off down the hall.

  Her entourage of cheerleaders trail after her like baby ducks, and the three other kings turn back to face Dax and me. As soon as their gazes land on us, I realize that even though I broke Dax’s grip, our bodies are still pressed tightly together. His broad chest moves against me as he breathes, and I can feel the heat from his body seeping into mine.

  I step away from him, putting distance between me and all four boys.

  “Whatever you think you’re doing, just stop.” My voice is low and hard, but only because I’m trying not to fucking cry. “Stop trying to manage me. You lost your right to have any input on how I live my life when you let my mom go to jail.”

  River winces, his gaze locked on my face. Chase actually looks a little chagrined, like maybe he regrets the fact that they stopped me from going after Savannah—or from helping my mom. Dax’s expression is a lot more serious than usual, and he shakes his head, like he’s trying to tell me something without words.

  Lincoln’s lips press together, that same anger I saw when he confronted me outside the gate flashing in his eyes.

  I don’t know what the fuck he has to be mad about though.

  What did I do to him?

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask, forgetting that I don’t want to talk to any of these guys, but before I can, he turns on his heel and strides away. The other three break away from me too, River casting one last glance over his shoulder as they go.

  The hallway starts to empty out, and I stare after the kings of Linwood for several moments until the bell rings, signaling that I’m late for class.

  Goddammit.

  My body jerks into motion, and I scoop up my discarded backpack before darting down the hall toward my Political Science classroom.

  These fucking boys.

  4

  The rest of the morning is a blur of annoyed teachers and piles of make-up homework. I stop by the principal’s office on my lunch break and talk to Mr. Osterhaut.

  Every single person in the building knows about what happened to my mom, so it’s not like it’s a total shocker that I’ve been absent this week. And it turns out he’s already gotten a call from Mr. Black asking him to excuse my absences due to a family trauma.

  I’m not sure if Mr. Black’s call carried more or less weight than one from Mom would’ve, but Mr. Osterhaut purses his lips sympathetically as he leans back in his chair, resting his folded hands on the little shelf of his gut. He’s not a bad looking guy, probably in his mid-forties, but this job seems to have aged him a little prematurely.

  “I understand this must be a very difficult time for you, Harlow. Unfortunately, the wheels of our institution don’t stop spinning, even in times of personal tragedy, and if you get too far behind, that will be a problem. But if you’re willing to do the work to make up what you missed and commit to maintaining your attendance going forward, your absences won’t be counted against you.”

  Personal tragedy. That’s one way to put it, I guess.

  I keep my snarky thoughts to myself though, shooting him a grateful look as I nod.

  “Thanks, Mr. Osterhaut. I will. I’ve already gotten make-up assignments from half my teachers. I’ll make sure I get them from the others too.”

  I stand, slinging my backpack over one shoulder, and am about to head out the door when the principal lifts one hand.

  “Oh, and Harlow? No matter how difficult things are for you, I don’t want to hear about another altercation like the one you had with Savannah Harris earlier this semester… or this morning. Mrs. Morrison told me
she heard yelling and profanity in the halls before first period.”

  Great. I guess even though the sharp-faced woman only poked her head out of her classroom for a second, she managed to get a pretty good handle on what was going on anyway.

  “I… won’t, sir,” I promise, hoping he can’t hear the lie in my voice.

  I mean, I’ll try not to. But if Savannah keeps talking shit about my mom, I know that’s not a vow I’ll be able to keep.

  “Good.” He nods, as if congratulating himself on setting another student on the straight and narrow path, then waves his hand again to dismiss me.

  I see the four kings of Linwood in the hall a couple times as the afternoon creeps by, but I don’t acknowledge them. My heart thuds harder as I pass them by though, and I do what I can to wrestle my pulse back under control. I was dreading going back to school because of all the homework—work I’m not sure my distracted brain is really up to handling—but I forgot all about the thing that really makes it a struggle.

  The people.

  Savannah. Trent. The four boys who bullied me, won me over, and then betrayed me.

  I wasn’t prepared to share space with all of them again, to be in the same building with them all for over eight hours a day, and by the time I finally burst through the front doors of Linwood just after three o’clock, I’m a mess of pent up emotions and tightly wound tension.

  My usual solution when I feel like this is to find a poker game to crash—it’s the only thing I’ve found that makes me feel in control again when my life seems to be spinning out around me.

  But I don’t think that’ll work this time.

  Because it’s not my life that’s spinning out of control. It’s my mom’s. And playing poker won’t help her, even if we could use the extra money.

  The only way I can help her now is by proving her innocence. Proving that the man in black was the one who killed Iris.

  The only problem is, I have no fucking idea how to do it.

  It takes me almost an hour to get back to the Black family mansion, so Lincoln is already home when I walk in. And I only know that because when I enter through the service door on the second floor, I hear him talking to his dad near his bedroom.

  Linc’s room is in the same wing as mine, but it faces the front of the house while mine faces the back. He’s around the corner and down a long hallway, which feels way too close when you’re trying to avoid someone.

  And it’s not like I’m trying to eavesdrop. But even though they’re both out of sight, their voices carry to me easily as I reach my bedroom. I pause with my hand on the doorknob, cocking my head.

  “Principal Osterhaut is doing the best he can,” Mr. Black says, his voice full of the intense, almost over-the-top earnestness I’ve come to expect from him. “But I don’t think he’s ever dealt with anything like this before. He knows tensions are bound to run high, what with Iris and Harlow both having been students at Linwood. Kids will pick sides, things could get nasty—and I personally think he’s smart to try to cut that off right now. To get ahead of it before it becomes a real problem.”

  “Yeah.”

  Lincoln’s one-word response is curt, and I have a feeling he doesn’t want to be having this conversation right now.

  “Now, I don’t know what this Savannah girl said or didn’t say to Harlow, but if there’s serious bullying going on, you need to tell someone about it. Let the teachers and administrators deal with it. That’s their job. But Osterhaut was clear there’ll be no tolerance for fighting of any kind, even if you’re just defending your girlfriend. So be smart, Linc.”

  I freeze, my hand still clutching the knob, and the door to my room half open.

  Lincoln Black isn’t my boyfriend.

  And I’m not his girlfriend.

  Even before things went to absolute shit between us, we hadn’t defined what exactly we were doing. But we were… something. What existed between us was intense and combustive, sweet and sexy. It was miles away from anything I’d felt with previous boyfriends—even official ones. It was on a different fucking plane entirely.

  There was something between me and the other three kings of Linwood too, although I never quite had the guts to define it or examine it too closely.

  Lincoln doesn’t respond to his dad’s words with any of his own, and his silence makes the twisted mess of emotions in my chest pulse like a bomb about to explode. I don’t know what I want him to say. If he confirmed his dad’s assumption that I’m his girlfriend, I’d probably march down the hall and slap him in the face. But if he denied it, I think it might break my heart.

  Fucking hell.

  “She’s a sweet girl. Smart. Beautiful. Tough.” Mr. Black’s voice softens slightly. “I can see why you like her. Just… be smart, all right, son? Don’t go getting yourself in trouble defending her honor. Mr. Osterhaut said he’ll let this afternoon’s incident go with a warning, but with all the craziness going on right now, he needs to run a tight ship. He can’t cut you any more slack. Got it?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I got it.”

  I can practically hear Lincoln inching away from his dad, trying to end this conversation already. And Mr. Black either notices too, or he’s just said everything he needs to, because I hear him clap Linc on the shoulder before footsteps start down the hall.

  As quietly and quickly as I can, I slip inside my bedroom, keeping the knob turned so the latch doesn’t make a noise as I close the door. Then I lean against the heavy wood, blinking as I stare into space for a few seconds.

  Well, shit. No matter how sneaky Lincoln and I thought we were being, his dad obviously picked up on the fact that something was going on between us. But, like an out-of-the-way town that’s about a decade behind the rest of the country in fashion and music, Mr. Black hasn’t realized yet that things between me and his son have changed again.

  And what did he mean by “this afternoon’s incident”? The almost-fight between me and Savannah was this morning—and the guys were all there, but they didn’t actually do anything that could get them in trouble.

  Did something else happen later in the day?

  What? When?

  Why?

  I scrub my hands down my face, shaking my head as I push away from the door. I don’t have time to get caught up in wondering what the fuck Lincoln and the rest of the guys were doing with Savannah. I’ve got what feels like a mountain of homework to catch up on, and although it’s not as good as finding the man in black, it’s one thing I know I can do for my mom—one bit of stress I can try to relieve her of.

  That thought is a damn good motivator, and I spend the rest of the afternoon holed up in my room poring over books and writing papers. I sneak over to Mom’s apartment around seven to grab some dinner—I’ll need to get to the store soon, since the supplies in her kitchen are dwindling—and then hit the books again until I can’t keep my eyes open anymore.

  I shove the stack of textbooks to the floor, turn off the lamp, and crawl under the covers, pulling them up tight around my chin. Just as I’m starting to doze off, a light knock sounds at the door, and my eyelids fly open. My body goes rigid under the blankets, and I hold absolutely still, feeling my heart kick against my ribs.

  The knock comes again—three soft raps against the wood.

  But I don’t answer.

  And a few moments later, whoever it is goes away.

  Mr. Osterhaut told Lincoln’s dad pretty much the same thing he told me about the zero tolerance policy for altercations on school grounds, even if—or maybe especially if—they have to do with Iris’s death and my mom’s arrest.

  I sure as fuck hope Savannah got the same lecture, since she’s far from an innocent bystander here. But regardless, I go out of my way to avoid her on Friday, not wanting to risk getting in trouble again. Between dodging her and avoiding the four kings, I feel like I spend most of the day ducking into corners or down random hallways.

  When school lets out, I head for the bus stop at a fast clip. A quick glan
ce over my shoulder as I reach the edge of campus reveals Lincoln and River stepping out through the front doors of Linwood.

  River’s head snaps toward me like some sixth sense told him exactly where I’d be, and even though we’re too far apart to really see each other’s eyes, I can feel our gazes connect anyway.

  I drag my focus away, picking up my pace even more. When I hop on the bus this time, I take the one headed in the direction of Fox Hill Correctional Center. I didn’t visit Mom yesterday, and I’m not letting another day go by without seeing her. I’ll have to spend the rest of the evening doing more homework catch-up, but I’d rather be late on a few assignments than skip seeing her.

  The routine of getting checked in at the prison is starting to feel familiar, just like all the routines Mom and I developed when I was going through my cancer treatments. Sometimes I can’t believe how adaptable humans are, how quickly what should seem insane can start to feel normal. It can be both a good thing and a bad thing, I think.

  Mom’s dressed in garish orange like always, and when I walk in today, she looks more tired than she did last time I saw her. It’s going on a week since she was arrested, and the thought of how much longer she might have to be here makes me feel queasy.

  I sit down across from her and pick up the phone from its cradle. “Hey, Mom. How’re you doing?”

  “Good. Good.” She smiles and nods, but this time it’s all fake.

  “What happened?”

  “Oh.” The smile drips off her face, and she chews her lip for a second, like she’s wondering if she should tell me.

  “Mom. What happened?”

  “I spoke with my lawyer this morning. Leda Koffman. She said…” Confusion and hopelessness flit across her face, and I lean closer, staring at her as she continues. “She told me the police found traces of Iris’s DNA on the front grill of my car. So—so that really helps their case.”

  She says that last part matter-of-factly, as if she’s talking about some other murder investigation and some other woman who’s been wrongly implicated.