The Darkest Lie Read Free Page B

saying.
    â€œWhat’s in it, then? Photos from Tabitha’s private collection?”
    â€œMaybe it’s drawings of her and her mom naked together!”
    â€œOr a collage of all the guys they’ve slept with!”
    Snickers fill the air. I fix my gaze on the Captain America shield on my teacher’s chest and pretend not to hear. Pretend not to care. Pretend I never had a mother.
    â€œThat’s enough, class,” Mr. Willoughby says sharply. “Turn your psych textbooks to chapter one.” He lowers his voice. “Miss Brooks, please stop by my office after school.”
    I nod meekly. The whispers from my classmates circle around my head like a dog chasing its own tail, never tiring, never stopping.
    It’s the first day of school. And already, I’m in trouble.

Chapter 3
    Mackenzie’s waiting by my locker after school. She sticks out her designer-jeans-clad butt, taking up half the hallway, so that the foot traffic has to diverge around her.
    As I approach, her eyes flicker over my gray hoodie and black canvas high-tops, clothes designed to make me disappear. I think about walking past her and out the double-glass doors, but I need to face her sometime. And if I look like the coward I really am? She’ll find some way to use it against me.
    â€œExcuse me,” I say. “You’re in front of my locker.”
    Her eyebrows raise. “Oh, is this yours? I didn’t realize.”
    She shifts languorously to one side. “How was your first day, CeCe? Make lots of new friends?” Her voice arches like a worm on a hook, daring me to say the wrong thing.
    â€œIt was all right.” I spin the dial on the lock, but my fingers fumble and I flub the numbers. I try again. And then again.
    Sweat pools at my neck, and the hair sticks to my forehead. This is ridiculous! I’ve got more important things to worry about—like my meeting with Mr. Willoughby. I can’t let a simple conversation bother me.
    I try the combination one more time, but the FREAKING LOCK WILL NOT OPEN. It spins and spins, and clearly this isn’t the right set of numbers. Clearly, the right combination doesn’t exist anywhere, and they’ve given me the one faulty lock in the ENTIRE school . . .
    The dial clicks. Mackenzie smirks.
    â€œNervous much? You wouldn’t have something to hide, would you?”
    Um, yeah. The senior class has been buzzing about nothing else all day. But Mackenzie couldn’t care less about my self-examination journal. She’s got more pressing concerns: herself.
    â€œI saw you getting cozy with the new boy this morning,” she says.
    â€œNo, I wasn’t. I hadn’t even met him yet.”
    The “yet” slips out, and her eyes narrow. “Listen, CeCe, you and I, we’ve always been okay. I would hate to see some guy get in the way of our friendship, wouldn’t you?”
    This is both truth and lie. Sure, we’ve never had a problem with each other, but a guy did come between us. Or more precisely, between her and my mother.
    Tommy was Mackenzie’s boyfriend when the scandal broke, and the school princess has never forgiven me for being my mother’s daughter. I don’t blame her. I haven’t forgiven my mom, either.
    â€œWatch yourself. You don’t want to get on my bad side.” Mackenzie looks pointedly at my locker number, as if committing it to memory, and then sashays down the corridor, her ass jabbing the air with every step.
    I take a shaky breath. I’m okay. As far as harassment goes, that wasn’t bad. Just a warning. I can handle a warning. That’s nothing compared to a group of boys walking past me while I’m eating a banana, smirking to one another and whispering, “Suck it, baby.”
    I open my locker door, and a folded piece of paper tumbles out.
    Oh god. I was wrong. It’s not over yet.
    With trembling fingers, I unfold the paper. It’s a flyer