Deadly Little Lies Read Free

spent his days avoiding touch altogether, afraid of his own powers and what he could sense. For two full years, he barely touched anyone. But then he ended up at our high school, anxious for a somewhat normal life again.
    And that’s when he accidentally touched me.
    “I’m just surprised he’s coming back at all,” Wes says. “I mean, the poor boy was practically ridiculed to death.”
    It’s true. Because of what happened with Julie, everybody at the school—the administration included— couldn’t have made him feel more unwelcome. And so there were countless complaints from parents, havoc wreaked in the form of student pranks, and posers pretending to be victims of Ben’s villainous ways. Nobody was willing to give him a fair chance.
    Including me.
    “I have my own theory as to why he wants to come back.” Kimmie winks at me. “I mean, who voluntarily goes to school for the education?”
    I bite my lip, hesitant to get my hopes up. The last time I saw him, when he kissed me and told me good-bye, he said that we couldn’t be together, that someone like him could never be fully trusted, and that maybe someday I’d understand.
    “I just hope things will go back to somewhat normal between us,” I say.
    “I hate to break this to you, Cam,” Kimmie says, “but last I checked, feeling someone up in an effort to sense clues that could possibly cease the plot of a psycho stalker is hardly the norm.”
    “It’s all in how you look at it, though.” Wes smirks.
    “You could always pretend to be in danger again,” Kimmie suggests. “I could help you draft up a couple good stalker notes.”
    “Except he’d be able to sense it was a hoax,” I say, bursting her balloon with a pin of reality.
    “Not if I seriously plot to kill you,” Wes says, making his voice all sinister. He stabs his brownie with a plastic knife. “I mean, what’s the worst that can happen?”
    “Probation, that’s what,” Kimmie says, referring once again to Matt’s lame-o punishment.
    “The boy got away with barely a bitch-slap,” Wes squawks. “I mean, honestly, you get more for public nudity these days.”
    “Not that you would know,” Kimmie says.
    “Bottom line,” I segue, “at least Matt won’t be coming back to school.”
    “But Ben will ,” she sings. “And who knows, maybe he’ll touch you and sense something really hot.”
    “Even hotter than a mad stalker armed with plastic knives?” Wes jokes, continuing to stab at his brownie.
    But all joking aside, I’m just hoping that Ben will talk to me—that he’ll tell me it was him outside my bedroom window last night. And that he misses me just as much as I miss him.

4

    Later, at home, I sit up in bed and look in the mirror, once again unable to sleep. My normally bright green eyes are dull and bloodshot, and my wavy blond hair is piled high in a bed-head heap. I just can’t stop thinking about what happened the other night.
    I glance out my window at the trees across the street, where I could have sworn I saw Ben. The branches are completely bare, highlighted by the streetlamp. Is it possible that I was only seeing things, that my mind concocted the whole scenario? And yet, when I close my eyes, I can still hear Ben’s voice calling out to me in the basement, and then leading me up to my bedroom.
    “Camelia?” a voice whispers from behind me.
    I startle slightly before realizing it’s my mother. She raps lightly on my open door. “It’s after midnight, what are you doing up?”
    I turn to face her, noticing she’s still dressed in her yoga gear from work. “I could ask you the same.”
    She comes and sits beside me on the bed, failing to mention why she’s awake, especially since she’s usually asleep by ten. “Is everything okay?” she asks.
    I shrug. “Another restless night, I guess.”
    “You had a rough sleep Friday night too, didn’t you? I thought I heard you get up.”
    “You did?” I ask. “Did you hear anything else?”
    “Like