The Lies we Steal (The Hollow Boys Book 1)

Briar

“Two double cheeseburgers, hold the onion, a basket of Tilly’s Curly Frillys, and two strawberry milkshakes, that sound right ladies?” 

My stomach growled as our waitress repeated our order back to us. Greasy, delicious diner food was everything I needed in my life right now. 

“Yup.” Lyra and I say together, laughing a bit at our cohesiveness. Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“I’ll go plug it in!” 

As she left I turned my head to look out the window next to me, staring out at the dark road and parking lot full of cars. This little dive was the first thing in this town that reminded me of home. 

The old school music that played from the jukebox in the corner, the checkered flooring, cherry red booths and bright blue neon lights took me back home to Texas and the Waffle Palace that was two miles from my house. 

The smell oil frying, laughter, had a smile on my face the first time we’d come here. 

We’d both been studying for hours, tired and hungry we piled into Lyra’s car and took the twenty minute drive to get here. It was only seven, so the dinner crowd was hot and heavy. The restaurant full of people you’d never expect to be in here. 

Men in suits, ladies in heels. 

It seemed to be a break from the luxury. Bringing everyone together in a humble establishment that was serving everything from funnel cakes to fish and chips. 

We were a week and a half into October, and the leaves were fully turned. Except for the pines. They kept their dark, green coat year-round it seemed. 

Since the last encounter with Satan’s spawn in the pool, we’d yet to hear from them. We saw them on campus briefly, but the pranks, the letters, they had all stopped around the first of the month. 

I could still feel Alistair’s presence occasionally, watching, hovering, but it wasn’t like it was before. Either they were planning something like our grandiose kidnapping and slaughtering, or they believed their torments had secured our silence. 

Part of us wanted to forget everything we saw. I wanted off their radar and away from their gazes. Even if that meant staying quiet. I wanted to focus on school and act as if that night never happened and it seemed Lyra was doing that much better than I was. 

The other part of me felt like I would combust. To hold onto a secret like that for the rest of my life. I was sure it would eat me alive, but after the pool I promised myself I would graduate from here, have the means to protect myself and I would tell someone. 

I would tell them everything I saw and hope justice would be served but I couldn’t do that now. I would just be the broke girl from nowhere Texas who was accusing the most important sons of Ponderosa Springs of murder. 

No matter how many scenarios I ran through, that never ended well for me. 

The promise I’d made had settled my anxiety some. Enough that my appetite had come back. Which was good for me because Thomas was beginning to worry about how frail I was becoming. 

“Easton Sinclair asked me about you in class today.” Lyra announces, leaning her back against the glass window, her feet outstretched in front of her across the booth. “He hasn’t spoke to me since we were in kindergarten, and he asked to borrow my yellow crayon.”  

I pop an eyebrow, “Why was he asking about me?” 

Since accidentally going Jackie Chan on his ass, I’d only seen him in class and once in the library where we went over answers on a study guide together. I didn’t think I had done anything that would warrant him asking Lyra about me. 

“He wanted your phone number,” She giggles, “Someone’s got a crush on youuuu.” She sings in a soft voice, wiggling her pointer finger at me. 

I swat it away, rolling my eyes with a soft chuckle, “He probably just needed answers to homework or something, did you tell him to bug off and worry about his girlfriend?” 

She shakes her head, “Nah, I told him if you wanted to give it to him, you would have.” 

I loved her even more for that. 

“Plus he doesn’t seem like your type anyway.” 

“I have a type?” I ask, never really thinking about myself as the type of person with a type. I mean, minus the fact I required the guys I was interested in to be single and of legal age. 

“You just don’t look like the girl who ends up with a nine to five guy. You’d get too bored.” She starts, “I think there are two types of women, those who seek comfort and those who seek love.” 

I’d never heard anyone say something like that before. I mean, you could have both, right? You could have a stable relationship and be in love, it happened all the time. 

“You don’t think people can have both? Aren’t you supposed to feel comfortable when you’re in love? I don’t think you can have one without the other.” 

About that time our waitress comes back with our tray of food, sliding everything in front of us and asking if she can get us anything else, when we decline she leaves us to eat. 

Lyra grabs the cherry off the top of her milkshake, popping it inside her mouth, “For me love shouldn’t be comfortable. Love should make you uncomfortable, it should challenge you, it should push your limits, make you grow as person and all of those things you have to be out of your comfort zone to do. So I don’t think you can have both, no.” 

I love listening to her talk. I love hearing how she feels about life, love, philosophy even when we have a full-on debate on a Criminal Minds episode. Everything she says is like it’s been brewing in her brain for years. You wouldn’t assume it when you first see her, because she is shy, but Lyra is funny. She is quick with sarcastic comebacks, and it makes me sad that I’m the only person at the school who knows that. 

Everyone who passed up the opportunity to be her friend was severely missing out. 

I grab a fry dipping it in ketchup, “So you’re the girl who wants love, right? An adventurous guy who helps you dig up worms and knows how to get dirty?” I roll my eyebrows teasingly, shoving the salty fried potato into my mouth and chewing. 

A ghost of a smile passes her features, just as she snorts like she’s thinking about a certain boy or maybe a girl, I’d never asked her about her sexual orientation. 

“Something like that, who knows.” 

I pick up my burger, the melty cheese oozing from the side and the pieces of bacon peeking out from under the bun. My mouth was watering by the time I carried it towards my mouth, taking the largest bite of food in my life. 

“Lyra Abbott! Is that you sweet girl?” 

I nearly choke, trying to chew this ungodly bite of food as a man in a pressed suit walks up to our table. 

“Hey mayor Donahue.” Lyra says softly, smiling up at the man with a neatly trimmed beard and soft red colored hair who is looking at me now. 

Of course I’d meet the mayor of one of the most prestigious towns in the country while I had a my mouth stuffed with food. I place my hand over my mouth, chewing as quickly as possible. 

“Hi,” I mutter, swallowing painfully, “Sorry, I’m Briar.” I wipe my hands on a napkin, sticking my hand out to shake his. 

He returns it with a smile, moving my hand up and down gently, “Nice to meet you, Briar. I pride myself on knowing all the faces around here, but I can’t say I know you! Are you new here?” 

I nod, “Yes, sir. I’m attending Hollow Heights.” 

“Please, just call me Frank. It’s exciting to know we have students from other places joining our corner of the world! Are you ladies enjoying your first semester so far? I heard there was an accidental misfiring of some fireworks the other night at the annual maze hunt.” 

Lyra and I look at each other with slightly hooded eyes, thinking back to that night. But she bounces back quickly, 

“It’s going well, just hitting the books and trying to meet the expectations set for us students.” She covers. 

“Well I’ll leave you girls to your dinner, Lyra, let me know if you need anything, okay?” He offers, and she nods in agreeance watching him walk away and towards the door to leave. 

“You just casually know the mayor?” As we settle back into our booth, continuing to eat. 

“He knew my mom back in the day, I was always in the same classes as his daughters growing up.” She pauses, taking a fry and dipping it into her milkshake. I crinkle my nose, confused by the combination, however I’ve learned not to question the oddities of my friend. “I feel so sorry for him.” 

“Why?” 

Looking around to make sure no one is around us, or listening to our conversation before speaking, 

“Not only did his wife leave him for another man, but he lost both his daughters in the span of six months. He’s lost everything and I’m not sure how he is able to keep smiling.” 

I begin to remember her talking about the mayor’s daughter who died, reading it inside one of the news articles when I was looking up things on the boys. It said she was found at a local party house and the police ruled it as an accidental overdose, but apparently the rumor mill enjoyed adding salt to an already sore wound. If you asked anyone at the school, they’d tell you she killed herself or Silas killed her because she was sleeping with someone else. 

If you asked me, it was just sad either way. 

A girl my age, one who hadn’t even begun to live the best portion of her life, had people speculating and making up lies just to add drama to their own boring worlds. It was pathetic. 

From the pictures in the articles she was pretty, well liked from her obituary, just a regular girl whose time came too soon. 

“Rosemary had a sister?” I couldn’t imagine losing both of my children, but that close together? 

“Twin sister,” She cringes, “Her name is Sage. Mayor Donahue had to admit her into a psychiatric facility in Washington after Rose died. She just lost it, I guess. Just couldn’t stop talking about her death and that someone had killed her. It was sad watching her in the hallways after. Like she’d lost half of herself and I guess in a way she did.” The sadness of the story makes my heart ache, “Even though I wasn’t friends with her, it was our senior year. It was supposed to be fun and the moments we remembered when we were old. And all she’ll remember it as is the year her sister died.” 

I had no siblings, but I couldn’t imagine what losing a twin felt like. To be brought into the world together only to have them taken away at eighteen. She probably did lose half herself when she died. But a facility? That felt a little harsh. 

“You don’t think a psych ward is a little severe? I mean maybe she was just grieving. Losing someone like that could warrant some strange behavior.” 

I didn’t want to come off judgmental, I was just finding it hard to understand why a father who just lost one daughter would send another away. I mean wouldn’t he want to hold onto her for as long as he could? Never letting her out of his sight? Helicopter parent mode or something? 

“I never really thought about it honestly. I mean, maybe it is? I’m not sure on all the details, but someone said the mayor found her cutting herself in the bathtub. I think he was just doing the best he could, you know? Just doing what he could to protect her.” She swirls another fry in her milkshake before taking a drink of it. 

The words hang in the air as I push my leftover food to the side of my plate, fidgeting with something to make the silence not awkward. Just allowing my brain to absorb all this. 

Everywhere I turn here there is something dark, something morbid and sad. 

Why the hell does anyone live here? 

“Down to binge Netflix in the Loner Society Clubhouse?” She asks changing the subject, a line of whipped cream giving her a mustache. 

In the craziness of the maze, after Dean Sinclair escorted me out to safety and I saw that Lyra had already made it out, I remembered I had found the key. I’d presented it to the dean and he declared us winners. 

The key gave us access to what we dubbed, the LS Clubhouse, a secret room inside the Rothchild District third floor. Inside had couches, a TV, tables and even a little popcorn machine. 

We had the room until the end of our freshman year and it was where we’d started spending most of our time. Partly because it was ours, partly because we could lock the door with a key, and we felt safe. 

“As long as I get first movie pick.” I raise my milkshake glass towards her, 

“Deal.”

We click glasses and for a moment I feel like a regular college student. 

I feel like a regular girl who was about to have a movie night with her roommate. 

And I couldn’t help but wonder if Lyra was right or wrong. Was I the girl who needed the challenge? Who needed to choose love? Did I need the extra drama my life had been given? A guy who is bad for me but good for my sense of adventure? 

Because this, even as simple as this moment was, it felt enough for me.