Lies We Tell

  Lies We Tell

  Thistle Cove

  Angel Lawson

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Afterword

  1

  Kenley

  “You’re getting ripped,” Ezra says, tweaking my bicep.

  “That sounds like an exaggeration.”

  “Nope. I see some solid muscle definition going on.” He leans against the locker and adds quietly, “It’s sexy.”

  I’d take it as a compliment, but when you’re working out in reaction to having been kidnapped and nearly murdered, it loses a little of its luster.

  It’s been a little over a month since Monica Chandler kidnapped me and confessed to the murder of Jacqueline Cates and her involvement in Rose Waller’s suicide. It’s passed in a blur as I’ve tried to go back to normal. But that’s the thing. What’s normal about your former friend’s mother trying to kill you and confessing to being involved in two other crimes? What’s normal about learning that your beloved high school football coach carried on a relationship with a student who is now missing? And that no one, not the parents, not the administration, not the politicians care, because he can win a football game.

  It’s disheartening. Disturbing. Defeating.

  Since then, we’ve celebrated Thanksgiving. My parents decided it was a good chance to get out of Thistle Cove, and we drove two states away to see my aunt, uncle, and cousins. It was fun, but I missed the guys. We’ve got less than two weeks until Christmas break—two weeks of exams and Valhalla deadlines--but after that, they’re all mine.

  “What’s this meeting about anyway?” I ask Ezra, who’s leaning against the bank of lockers. I’m rummaging through my mine, trying to find my history book.

  “I don’t know, but it gets us out of class.” He catches my eye. “Want to bail? My dad is at a conference. The house is empty.”

  Tempting for sure. “It’s a senior meeting. It could be important information about graduation or even college stuff—you know, that thing you still haven’t applied for?”

  “Sometimes I forget you’re such a goody-two-shoes, you know, since you have a tendency to be so…” His dark eyes sweep over me and right there in the hall, I get warm.

  “’So what?” I ask.

  “Mischievous. Wild.”

  I stare at his pink, soft lips and almost cave. Almost. Except Ozzy walks up with a deep-set frown and interrupts us.

  “I know you love a good rant about the obsessive patriarchy and the need to dominate women’s lives, but seriously, I can’t believe he’s still allowed to teach,” he says. I glance down the hall and see Coach Chandler leaning against the wall outside his classroom. He’s handing out high-fives to passing students like candy on Halloween. It’s like nothing has happened. I guess in their minds, nothing has. Monica has taken all the blame and he willingly let her throw herself under the bus. “Is a championship ring really worth the well-being of the entire student population?”

  “I’ll let you know when I get mine,” Ezra says, chuckling darkly. They’ve won the game, of course, and title, but the actual rings will be given out in a few weeks at a fancy ceremony in the city with all the other championship-winning teams.

  It wouldn’t be football if it wasn’t a big deal.

  Ozzy yanks at his cap in irritation and he adds, “Just because men have been getting away with bullshit like this for centuries doesn’t mean we have to put up with it.”

  “Actually, I think we do.” I finally free the book by tugging it out with both hands. “Unless we can prove he’s actually sleeping with a student. Rose is gone. Kayla isn’t speaking.”

  “You think it ends there?”

  “Not a chance,” I reply, “but no one else has come forward.”

  “Even with Monica in jail, they’re scared.”

  “Or willing participants.” I slam the locker door. “The town has taken a side. His side.”

  “I can’t believe you’re giving up.”

  I narrow my eyes. “I’m not giving up, Oz, I just don’t know what to do.”

  I have one lead. One, that may dig deeper into the truth about the men in Thistle Cove. The key card I found in Rose’s room. Like everyone else, I’m scared of what I’ll find.

  He looks between me and Ezra. “I know you’re not giving up. I’m just frustrated. I know you are, too.”

  The warning bell rings. “We need to get to the cafeteria.”

  Ozzy makes a face. “I thought maybe we could skip.”

  “That’s what I suggested, but Miss Priss was a hard no,” Ezra says, giving me a wink.

  I don’t admit I almost caved. “You guys do what you want. I’m going to the meeting.”

  Ezra groans but they both follow me down the hall. I’m actually curious about the meeting, and don’t like getting information secondhand. Unfortunately, we have to pass Coach Chandler on the way to the gym. Right before we walk past him, a girl approaches him.

  Not just a girl. Alice Kendrick.

  My pace slows.

  “Ms. Kendrick,” he says, “I’ve got the information you needed about the football team. A few stats and details from the season.”

  “Great. We’re finalizing the fall sport section of the Valhalla this week. I’ll come by after the meeting and pick them up.”

  Ozzy looks back at me and I catch up.

  “What was that all about?” He asks as Ezra walks ahead of us, through the gym doors.

  “Nothing.”

  But it wasn’t nothing. It was weird. Alice isn’t working on the sport section—particularly football. I’d intentionally kept all the girls off that assignment not to put them in Chandler’s orbit.

  “Have you talked to her lately?” he asks. “In general?”

  “No. I mean, she texted me a few times after the thing with Monica, but I just wasn’t up for it.”

  We cross over the threshold into the gymnasium with the rest of our class. Ezra’s up on the bleachers, sitting with Finn. More than one set of eyes follow me as I climb the stairs. Some curious, or even jealous, about why I’m always with these guys. Others because they heard about me and Mrs. Chandler. And a few scornful because I shattered their idealistic view of Thistle Cove.

  “Ms. Keene.” I turn and see Mr. Russell, the principal. “We’re making senior announcements. I figure you may have a few for the class?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “You can go sit with Ms. Chandler, who will also be making announcements.”

  I glance over to the front row of the bleachers. Juliette sits with her legs crossed and a stack of forms next to her.

  I leave Ozzy and walk over to sit with her.

  “Hi,” she says. We haven’t spoken much since the night she saved me from her mom.

  “Hey. Can I sit here?�
�

  She sees me coming and picks up the papers.

  The room vibrates around us, our classmates loud and excited to not be in class. Mr. Russell moves to the center of the room and adjusts the microphone.

  I look at Juliette. “How are you?”

  She looks tired. Sad. She lost her mom, and she knows the truth about her dad, even if no one else wants to acknowledge it.

  “It’s been a long fucking year.”

  “Almost over, right?”

  She laughs, and it’s contagious, with both of us tied together in a strange way.

  “True,” she replies. “Also, something awesome is about to happen.”

  “Yeah?”

  She holds the flyers to her chest and smiles. “It’s a surprise, but I think you’re going to like it. We deserve it.”

  I have no idea what Juliette has up her sleeve, but she’s right, we do deserve something awesome. I can’t wait to find out what it is.

  2

  Ezra

  I promise I’m not a pervert.

  For real.

  I’m an eighteen-year-old healthy male completely smitten with the girl at the front of the room. I’m obsessed with nearly everything about her; her scent, her skin, her hair, her ridiculous need to always wear too-baggy hoodies. I fight a constant hard-on being around her—and again, not just because I’m a pervert, but because this girl has trained my body to react like that. You never know when she’ll willingly go beneath the bleachers, or storage closet, or back seat of a car and rock my world. And not because she’s a slut. God, no. She’s just fun. Amazing. Perfect.

  I’m almost glad she got pulled away to go sit somewhere else.

  My mind and body needed a fucking break.

  Not that we have a lot of time together. My dad, who I assumed would lose interest in me once we won the state title, doubled-down on his parenting efforts. Sure, he still leaves town, like the conference he’s at right now, but he monitors me closely; tracking my phone, my bank account, and my grades. I had more freedom during the six months I wore an ankle monitor on probation.

  I focus back on Mr. Russell, who stands at center court, explaining how we have until the end of the semester to turn in our dues, and when our financial aid paperwork is due, and the final day to order a cap and gown.

  “Kenley Keene now has an announcement on deadlines from the yearbook staff.”

  Kenley walks across the wood floors, blonde ponytail bouncing. Ozzy and Finn flank me, shifting discreetly on the bleachers, and at least I know I’m not alone. They’re as love-struck as I am.

  “Hi guys,” she says, hand gripped around the microphone. Jesus. “Like Mr. Russell said, we do have a few deadlines. We’re in the final stages of formatting and the clock is ticking. Senior ads are due next week. Your parents should have seen the form in the weekly newsletter, but you may want to remind them. Quotes are also due. Also, this is the centennial issue. If you have any history, photos, or information you’d like to share, don’t forget to turn it in.” She looks over at Mr. Russell. “I think that’s it.”

  “Thank you, Kenley.” He nods over to the bleachers. “Your SGA president has an announcement for you.”

  Juliette bounds across the stage.

  “Only in Thistle Cove is the daughter of an accused murderer class president,” Ozzy mutters.

  “It’s not her fault,” Finn says. “I mean, she did help us save Kenley.”

  Thank god for that. It’d been close. Too close.

  “Seniors!” Juliette starts, her cheerleader voice echoing through the room. “As Thistle Cove looks to the past during our centennial celebration, traditions have been a major theme. Many traditions have survived; homecoming, float building, the spaghetti dinner, talent night, but a few did not.” She looks into the crowd. “One of these is the Senior Retreat. It was cancelled years ago and never reinstated.”

  “Because her mom killed Jaqueline Cates,” Ozzy adds sarcastically.

  That’s the thing about Juliette—there’s no awkwardness. No irony. She continues on like the whole school isn’t aware that her mother is a sociopath.

  “But your elected SGA staff has pushed to bring this epic weekend trip back! It’s a place for us to unwind, bond, and grow as a community. It’s important. It’s tradition.”

  “Where are we going?” someone in the crowd shouts.

  “Jasper Lodge,” she says with a wide smile. “Two hours north, there’s outdoor activities, sledding, tubing, ice skating and more. Although there will be plenty of free time, there will also be small groups to talk about graduation, colleges, and more.” She holds up a stack of papers. “I know it’s last minute, but the trip is over Christmas break—the twenty-eighth through the first, actually.”

  “New Year’s Eve!” someone shouts. It sparks more excitement and cries in the crowd.

  Juliette beams.

  “Even better is that an anonymous donor has offered to pay for the entire class to go! Everyone needs to sign up ASAP to secure your spot. It isn’t a mandatory event, but it’s something you won’t want to miss.”

  Juliette waves to her SGA minions and they hop up, taking stacks of the forms and moving toward the door to pass them out as we leave.

  “What do you think about that?” Finn asks, looking at the two of us.

  My eyes cast down to the front row, to Kenley, and the fact my dad will be nowhere around. “I think a weekend away may be just what everyone needs.”

  3

  Kenley

  Juliette stops me as I walk toward the Valhalla room. “Can we talk for a minute?”

  “Sure.”

  She brushes her cherry red hair over her shoulder. “I’m looking for a few creative people to be on the planning committee for the retreat. I thought you may be interested.”

  “You think I’m a worthy partner even after we ruined that cake at your house? Twice?”

  She smiles. “Ugh, that cake was awful, right?”

  “Nothing a pound of icing couldn’t fix.”

  “After all the drama this fall, I just want to have a good time. We’ll be there for New Year’s Eve and the administration has approved us having a ‘school appropriate’ party.” She uses air quotes. “Which obviously means no drinking and drugs, but we need to make it fun. Can you help me do that?”

  I study Juliette. Her hair is perfect, her dress on trend, her shoes painfully uncomfortable-looking, but she looks like she’s walking on clouds. Yeah, there’s a bit of haunted darkness in her eyes, but she plays it off.

  “You really want me to help?”

  “Rose is gone. My mother’s in jail, and my father?” she glances down the hall. “Well, you more than anyone know about my father. It’s refreshing to be around someone that knows the truth about my family.”

  Her tone is genuine, her expression sincere. “I’d be happy to help. Just let me know what I can do.”

  “Perfect. I’ll add you to the group text.”

  She flounces off and heads down the hall. Alice leans against the wall outside the yearbook room. She dyed her hair blue over the holidays, it makes her skin even paler than before.

  “So…Juliette Chandler.”

  “What about her?”

  She shrugs. “I guess with Rose out of the way, you’re going after the next best thing.”

  I walk past her and into the room. “This again?”

  “It’s endlessly fascinating. Not only is Rose’s disappearance not enough for you to stop obsessing over them, neither is almost being killed by Monica Chandler.”

  “Jesus, Alice,” I say, walking into my office. I toss my bag on the floor. “I’m not the one obsessing. I’m the one getting on with my life.”

  “By repeating the past?” she accuses. “Finn? Ezra? Ozzy? Now Juliette? What is this, eighth grade again?”

  Although Alice makes me angry, so angry, I know that she’s hurting and refuses to admit it. She’s too stubborn to apologize. Too bitter to take a step back. “I think you’re th
e one stuck in the past, Al, not me. The rest of us are looking ahead, including Juliette.”

  She stands in the doorway, arms crossed, green and gray striped socks pulled up to her knees. Always the Slytherin.

  I sigh and walk around my desk, sitting in the swiveling chair. She starts to leave but I call her back and ask her to shut the door.

  “I overheard you talking to Coach Chandler about some yearbook information. I didn’t assign you to sports.”

  “I swapped with Henry. He was overwhelmed studying for the ACTs.”

  I give her a wary look. “You should have told me.”

  “It’s not a big deal.”

  “Alice, I know the administration decided not to do anything about the accusations against him, but he’s still…well, a predator.”

  “Says who? Rose? She’s gone. Kayla James? She denied it. Anyone else?” She tilts her head. “It seems like you’re the one making accusations.”

  “Monica admitted all of it!”

  “You mean the deranged killer who could be lying about anything and everything?” She laughs. “Look, I’m fulfilling my obligations to the yearbook and helping out a fellow staffer. What’s so wrong with that?”

  “Is this your way of rebelling?”

  She walks over and leans over the desk. “You mean like you fucking three boys at once?”

  My jaw drops. “I am not!”

  Not yet, at least.

  Her grin is smug, she knows the truth.

  “I know you, Kenley Keene, better than anyone else in this town. I may be the only thing that saved you from going down the same path as Rose. You like taking risks, and those three? They’re happy to oblige. For a long time, I thought they were using you, but then I realized that you’re probably just using one another.” Her eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare tell me who I can and can’t talk to. Part of me wonders if you’re just jealous that Coach Chandler never tried to hit on you.”