The Liar Society

by Lisa Roecker

  I thanked him and repeated the combination over and over in my mind as I ran the length of the hallway.

  Minutes later I was at Cameron’s locker, my silver monogrammed bracelet clanging against the metal as I twisted the combination. The lock clicked open.

  I was in.

  Without really knowing what I was searching for, I reached inside and began digging around. Beads of sweat dotted my hairline, and my heart hammered against my rib cage. My ears perked, and I hoped that I’d be able to hear any footsteps coming down the hall over the sound of my pounding heart.

  I shoved aside books, notebooks, and a dirty-looking sweatshirt. While I might not have known what I was looking for, I was pretty sure it wasn’t gray fleece reeking of boy.

  The slamming of a classroom door shattered the silence of the hallway and brought the meaning of “jump out of your skin” to a whole new level. I craned my neck and let out a sigh of relief when I saw that it was just some first-year heading to the bathroom.

  With my attention back to the locker, I pulled out a small composition notebook with the usual speckled gray-and-white cover. I flipped the pages, thinking it might be a journal. But before I could make out any of the words on the page, I heard voices around the corner. The sound of footsteps followed, and I knew my time was up.

  When I shoved the notebook back into the locker, a piece of paper slipped out from between its pages and floated to the wood floor. I spotted Grace’s name and a drawing of some sort.

  The footsteps were coming closer, so I rearranged the junk in Cameron’s locker and stood, one foot partly covering the piece of paper.

  Someone cleared his throat behind me, and I swear I peed my pants a little. I turned around and looked straight into the eyes of Headmaster Sinclair.

  Shit.

  Chapter 6

  Last Fall

  It was the first week of school, and I had a bad case of what the upperclassmen liked to call First Year-itis. It hit all girls who started upper school at Pemberly Brown after coming into their own the summer before and leaving behind the braces, baby fat, and overall awkwardness of their middle-school years.

  The most common symptoms included heart palpitations, flushed cheeks, and incessant giggling whenever a hot upperclassman happened to catch their eye. Sadly, there was no known cure.

  My symptoms went into overdrive whenever I caught a glimpse of Bradley Farrow. After our “moment” during Nativitas, I was a goner, head over heels, crazy in love. He was hands down the hottest guy in school. Perfect mocha skin, eyelashes like paintbrushes, and six-pack abs that were discussed at length in the girls bathroom.

  My locker was exactly seven lockers away from his, which meant that every time we changed classes, I was able to watch him out of the corner of my eye. Thankfully, I’d always had excellent peripheral vision.

  I was in between English and Latin and was alternating between stealing glances at Bradley, blushing, and swapping out my books when I heard the loud giggling that almost always preceded the entrance of Grace and Maddie.

  “Enjoying the view?” Grace giggled just loud enough to make Bradley look over to my locker and turn the corner of his mouth up in a smirk.

  I had told her all about my crush after school the day before, and I’d been regretting that ever since. It’s not that I didn’t want her to know. Grace was my best friend, and I was dying to talk to her about all things Bradley. But she also couldn’t keep a secret to save her life. It was only a matter of time before all of PB would be buzzing with rumors about my lame crush.

  “Shhh! He’s right there,” I whispered and bugged out my eyes.

  “Calm down, Kate. He doesn’t even know we’re alive,” Maddie said. She tugged at the line of buttons down her uniform shirt in an effort to disguise the fact that a few were dangerously close to popping off. Maddie was one of those girls who should probably have worn a large but was always trying to squeeze into a small.

  “Whatever, Maddie.” I sighed dramatically and looked to Grace for support, but she just shrugged her shoulders in agreement.

  “Stop being so touchy. I have great news.” Grace grabbed my arm and began jumping up and down like a little kid who needed to pee. “Don’t ya wanna know? Hmm…don’t ya? Don’t ya?”

  I couldn’t stifle my smile, so I gave in. As usual. No one could ever stay mad at Grace for long; she was just too entertaining. “Okay, okay. Tell me your big news.”

  “I’m ungrounded, which means I can go to the Spiritus bonfire on Friday night! I managed to convince my parents that it’s required for first-years to promote school spirit.”

  “And they bought that?” I asked as my hands worked my long brown hair into a ponytail.

  Grace’s parents were crazy conservative. Emphasis on the crazy. She had spent most of her weekends grounded since she’d hit twelve and discovered makeup, boys, and other pursuits strictly forbidden by Mr. and Mrs. Lee. They had absolutely no idea she was dating Cameron, and they’d probably homeschool her if they found out.

  “Well, there are conditions,” Grace admitted.

  “You didn’t mention any conditions!” Maddie chided, yanking her skirt down another inch. If she’d just buy the right-size clothes, maybe she wouldn’t look so uncomfortable all the time.

  “Well, they have to drop me off and pick me up. But I figure if we all go together it won’t be so bad…” She trailed off and gave us her best pretty-please-with-a-cherry-on-top look, a look that worked so well I’d begun to wonder if she practiced it in the mirror every morning.

  Her dark eyes were all sparkly and hopeful, her mouth turned up in a nervous smile, and her straight, black hair hung like a curtain down her back. Who could resist?

  Apparently Maddie.

  “No way, Grace,” she replied, smoothing her skirt.” We’re riding with Alistair Reynolds.”

  Grace and I stared at her, mouths agape. Alistair Reynolds was, well, Alistair Reynolds. He didn’t actually do anything aside from hook up with younger girls, but he was from one of the oldest families in Pemberly Brown’s distinguished lineage. The fact that he was Abercrombie hot and had a hefty trust fund pretty much cemented his number-one spot in the Pemberly Brown pecking order.

  “How did you end up with a ride from Alistair Reynolds? Even Porter can’t get a ride with Alistair, and they’re brothers.” Grace couldn’t hide her shock.

  Maddie rolled her eyes. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realize that it’s such a stretch that a girl like me could get us rides from a guy like him.”

  I jumped in to save Grace. “Come on, Maddie. You know what she meant. It’s Alistair Reynolds. He doesn’t know we exist, right?”

  “Well, if you must know, my parents are going out with the Reynoldses Friday night, and they said Alistair would take us to Spiritus if we wanted.”

  “So his parents are forcing him to take you and your friends so that they can go to the country club and get hammered?” Now it was Grace’s turn to look annoyed.

  “My parents don’t get hammered…”

  “Right. I guess Evian came out with vodka-flavored water.” Grace had made the mistake of taking a sip of Mrs. Greene’s water at the beginning of the summer, inadvertently solving the mystery of Maddie’s mom’s long afternoon naps.

  “Enough!” I went into peacemaker mode and turned to Grace. “Mrs. Greene is super-nice and she’s…well, just a little overtired sometimes, so lay off.” Next I turned to Maddie. “You know we can’t ride with Alistair, so just tell your parents that Grace’s dad is driving us.”

  Maddie stuck out her lower lip like a child. “That totally defeats the purpose. I mean, this is Alistair Reynolds we’re talking about here.”

  “Uh, actually this is your best friend we’re talking about here. Come on, we’ll ride with Alistair some other time.” Grace shot me a grateful look. It was important to her to at least pretend she had a normal social life. There was no way I was going to let Maddie’s social climbing ruin it.

  “Fine,”
Maddie said, still pouting. She mumbled phrases like “not fair” and “have to suffer” and “Grace’s stupid parents” as we walked to our next class.

  “Kate Lowry for the win! Pineapple pizza is on me.” Grace laughed as she walked backward in front of Maddie, trying to get her to smile. “You can’t stay mad at me when our favorite pizza’s involved. Right, Maddie? Right?”

  This time she couldn’t resist. No one could. Maddie’s frown wavered, and her thin lips lifted into a smile.

  “I knew you’d come around!” Grace’s laugh filled the hallway but was cut short when Cameron grabbed her from behind, separating the three of us.

  “I heard you guys talking,” he said, pausing long enough for us to wonder how much he’d heard and why he was eavesdropping in the first place. “You didn’t tell me you’re allowed to go to Spiritus now.” He talked to Grace as though Maddie and I were invisible.

  “Oh, I just found out this morning,” Grace said, smiling at Maddie and me. “I wanted to make it a girls night, though. You understand, right?”

  Something in Cameron’s eyes made it clear he didn’t. “Of course, babe,” he said, nodding. “I know how important your friends are to you.” He said it with a hint of resentment. “I could use some time with the guys anyway.”

  Maddie and I exchanged a look. We both knew that Cameron was going to spend the entire night stalking Grace.

  As we neared the World Language wing, I realized I’d forgotten my Latin notebook and had to turn around. “Crap, forgot something in my locker. I’ll see you guys at lunch.”

  Grace planted a kiss on Cameron’s cheek but threw her arm around Maddie. As I rushed back to my locker, I had to admit I was glad Grace was willing to spend time with us away from Cameron. He was demanding; I knew that balancing a boyfriend and your best friends couldn’t be easy. After all, no one really wanted to share Grace.

  I twisted the combination on my locker again and reached in to grab my notebook. But sitting on top of my messy pile of books and school supplies was a pristine cream envelope with my name written in calligraphy on the front.

  I grabbed the card and looked around the crowded hallways. This definitely hadn’t been there a minute ago. Who could have gotten this in my locker so quickly? There was no way it could fit through the slats, and Grace and Maddie were the only ones with the combination.

  The paper of the envelope was velvety smooth. This must be what expensive felt like. I carefully opened the envelope, not wanting to rip the beautiful paper.

  The text on the invitation was handwritten in the same gorgeous calligraphy as my name, and in the bottom right-hand corner there was a small design.

  Katelyn Olivia Lowry,

  Your presence is requested at Station 11 at dusk on Friday the 13th of September. Enter at the seal if you believe yourself worthy. Come alone. Tell no one.

  Guess I was going to be doing some balancing of my own.

  Chapter 7

  Present Day

  Miss Lowry, last time I checked, you were a second-year. Care to explain why you’re rifling through a third-year locker that doesn’t belong to you when you should be in your first-period class?”

  Headmaster Sinclair was not a large man. In fact he couldn’t be much taller than five-foot-seven, considering I was able to look him square in the eye and I had measured five-foot-five and three-quarters at my last doctor’s appointment. He strutted around the halls like some kind of deranged peacock. Last year Grace and I had diagnosed him with an advanced case of little-man syndrome.

  “Oh, hi, Headmaster. Cameron just asked me to grab his English Lit notebook. He went home sick, and he needs his notes to study for a big test tomorrow on…” I thought hard here. I remembered reading somewhere that when you lie, you should add a lot of detail—or wait, maybe you’re not supposed to include a lot of detail. Whatever. I guess the point was to stay cool. “Beowulf…at least I think that’s what he said.” My voice was calm and steady.

  The headmaster looked unconvinced, but luckily Cameron wasn’t around to tell him the truth. I saw movement out of the corner of my eye as someone came out of the boys bathroom. Without thinking, I seized the opportunity and took a few steps away from Headmaster Sinclair.

  “Whoa! Watch out.” I ran right into Liam Gilmour.

  Liam was one of those kids who had ended up at PB after getting kicked out of public school. There were all kinds of rumors about how he’d managed to get in a couple of years earlier, but I wasn’t sure I believed any of them. I mean, if he really was a convicted felon who had somehow blackmailed Headmaster Sinclair to get into school here, wouldn’t he be in juvie or something?

  “I hope you have a hall pass, Mr. Gilmour.”

  “You know it.” Liam flashed the stuffed armadillo that one of the science teachers used as a bathroom pass.

  “Well, hurry back to class. You can’t afford to be missing any additional lectures.”

  “Yeah, it’s just that there’s something majorly wrong in the boys bathroom. That last toilet is overflowing again. Just thought you should know.”

  Headmaster Sinclair muttered something that sounded distinctly like a curse and started walking toward the custodian’s office.

  “I trust you’ll be forgetting that locker combination, Ms. Lowry,” he threw back at me. “Now, get back to class. Both of you.” Headmaster Sinclair gave us one last long look and disappeared around the corner of the hallway.

  My hands shook as I bent down, grabbed the paper from beneath my shoe, and stuffed it in my pocket. When I straightened, I forced myself to look Liam in the eyes, not sure what to make of him.

  “Overflowing toilet, huh?”

  He laughed a little. “Well, technically it’s not a lie. It was overflowing last week. You just looked like you could use a break.”

  “You have no idea. Well, thanks for the distraction. I really appreciate it.” I studied him carefully. Liam kept a low profile, and the only thing really noteworthy about him—aside from the fact that he had amazing hair—was the rumor that his dad was some kind of gangster. Most of the girls at school avoided him in spite of his dangerous good looks. I guess he scared them a little.

  But for some reason he didn’t scare me. Maybe that was because I’d caught him sketching an incredibly detailed picture of Beefany—with horns and a moustache—in study hall. Even if the rumors were true and he was some kind of thug, anyone who could sketch Taylor’s bodyguard as a devil-dude was fine by me.

  “Well, thanks again.” I suppressed the urge to stick out my hand. I had the worst handshake habit on the planet. My dad always forced me to practice firm handshakes, and while I was sure his training would serve me well later in life, it was the epitome of lame in high school.

  “No problem.” He nodded toward Cameron’s closed locker. “Find what you were looking for?” His eyes were the kind of color that changed depending on the color of his shirt. Today they were a stormy blue, but tomorrow they could be green or gray. I’d always wished for that kind of eyes. Mine were just plain old brown.

  “Maybe.” I tore my eyes from his. They were making me kind of light-headed.

  “Well, see you around.” He squeezed my shoulder and walked away.

  A quick glance at my phone confirmed that I was now way past tardy and into official class-cutting territory. I hoped Seth could work some magic for me in the office, like forging an official excused-absence note from the school nurse. Maybe he’d even “borrow” an entire booklet of absence slips. They’d come in pretty handy—for the sake of the investigation, of course.

  Instead of turning toward my first period classroom, I slipped out a side door and into the courtyard to examine my findings. The air was already thick and muggy under the morning sun; summer wasn’t quite ready to let fall take the reins. Eager for the shade of the path, I picked up my pace, sending Grace’s pearls into an angry dance around my neck.

  I had my sights set on Station 10, Farrow’s Arches, tucked into the gardens of Pember
ly Brown. Legend had it that if you and your boyfriend kissed underneath one of the arches, you’d end up married.

  Amor vincit omnia. “Love conquers all.”

  My mind wandered to Liam and those stormy blue eyes. I shook my head. I had to focus. I couldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  The gardens were bursting the fiery oranges and reds of fall leaves and deep purple mums. I held my fingers out, letting the tips skim across the hedges that lined the path. Finally her bench came into view.

  In Memory of Grace Elizabeth Lee.

  After running my fingers over the grooves that spelled her name, I pulled the slip of paper from my pocket. A boy’s block handwriting had scrawled Grace’s name above a crest carefully sketched in black ink. At first, it looked similar to the Pemberly Brown crest, but closer examination showed it was different.

  The P and the B were missing, and on the door beneath an ornate crown was the letter S. I had no idea what it meant, but I had no doubt that the difference was significant. Why else would Cameron have saved it?

  “What happened to you, Grace?” I whispered to the garden. In spite of the unseasonably warm air, I was suddenly freezing. When I looked up to see if a cloud had moved in front of the sun, a flash of plaid darted behind a bush nearby, long black hair streaming behind her. Grace.

  I jumped up from the bench and craned my neck to see over the branches, but no one was there. The bush was completely still except for a couple of fat bumblebees buzzing and bouncing from flower to flower.

  My pulse raced, the beat throbbing in my neck. Here I was trying to prove that I wasn’t crazy, and I was hallucinating. This couldn’t be good. As soon as I caught my breath, I headed back inside. The mind-numbing boredom of class sounded way better than waiting in the gardens for a ghost.

  Chapter 8

  Tennis practice after school was excruciating, particularly with the picture from Cameron’s locker burning a hole in my book bag. By the time the late bus dumped me at home, I didn’t even bother going inside. I plopped down on our porch swing and smoothed the wrinkled note out along my leg. The paper felt soft and worn, like it had been folded and refolded, read and reread. As I rocked back and forth, I was struck again by the similarities between Cameron’s sketch and Pemberly Brown’s crest.