All of the Lights Read Free Page A

rather attempt to save her from it than throw her even deeper into the snake pit. Bennett watches me carefully, taking stock of every tick and every single one of my movements, and he purses his lips together when I let it fly.
    "Well, I think her and her friends were going to a new restaurant on Broadway. She told me they're all going downtown after that."
    The lie rolls off my tongue a little too easily and guilt wraps its fingers around my throat. It's just a compulsion I've never been able to shake. I'm like that addict who knows she needs to get her ass into AA, but just can't put one foot in front of the other. Lying has just always come so naturally. I know it's bad for me and that it definitely won't end well, but I just can't stop.
    "So Luciana isn't going to be on that side of town for the rest of the night?" my dad's voice sounds a little more relieved now. I might have managed to convince him without even having to try that hard.
    "Nope," I reply a little too quickly, but I can't take it back now. "They're probably already headed to some club she wanted to go to in the theatre district."
    There are a few beats of uncomfortable silence from the other end and I shift anxiously from side to side, my palms sweaty and my heart racing. Maybe this is exactly why I can't stop myself from lying—the high of almost getting caught. It's a rush I haven't felt in awhile and one I used to feel on a nightly basis back when the lies were for my own benefit and I actually got away with it from time to time.
    I know exactly what he's thinking. The election. Always about the election. Always about appearances.
    In six months, each district in Boston will vote on their city council reps as well as the mayor, and thistime, my dad is more anxious about it than usual because this time, Brennan Callahan, the oldest son of Roark Callahan, is running for South Boston's rep in District 2. My dad will most likely have no issues getting re-elected to yet another term as mayor, but that's not the source of his anxiety. If Brennan Callahan wins, and he probably will, my dad can forget all his plans to expand North Boston into District 2 because he won't be able to push Brennan Callahan around the way he does the current city council rep and he knows it.
    God, this sounds like I'm talking about The Hunger Games .
    For as long as I can remember, my dad has told us that the Callahans are nothing more than Southie trash. " I can't let a Callahan get into office," I even overheard him saying a few weeks ago. " They have no business trying to govern our city." Before my attack seven years ago, it might've just been about differences of class, philosophy, and education. Now even my dad can't hide the personal reasons surrounding his blatant animosity.
    His agitation over this upcoming election is so out of character it's not funny. The last thing he needs is to have one of his daughters, even if it's Lucy, seen anywhere near a Callahan establishment, especially given the way our two families are irrevocably connected. The press would eat the story up like the overindulgent children they are and my dad's standing in the election would suffer.
    I know better than anyone what he'll do to avoid a potential scandal and as much as I should leave Lucy to her own devices, I just can't set her up to fail like this.
    "Alright, Raena," my dad finally relents and blows out a deep breath. "Since Luciana isn't answering her phone, will you have her call me when she's back on our side of town?"
    Of course, by our side, he means all the sides that aren't in Southie.
    "I will. Promise."
    "Good."
    He ends the call because I've served my purpose and I stare down at my phone like it'll somehow magically display the answer to my lifelong question: what do I have to do to get you to actually love me?
    The answer is cloaked in years of pent-up frustration, countless cries for attention, all of which blew up in my face, and finally, a heartbreak that just won't heal.