Page 3 of One Little Lie
In a blur, I make my way down the hall to my room. I’ve just turned the corner as GG’s blue-haired nuisance of a friend pops out of the room next to mine. She has a crowbar and pliers in hand, and it’s not even the weirdest thing she’s done today. I’m living in a shitshow of a sitcom here in Vermont, and I need to get the fuck home.
My eyes close, and I breathe out slowly through my nose. I don’t have the energy to handle Betty Anne right now.
“Oh! Well, hello, handsome. I was, er, I was just fixin’ something for Rosa, ah, GG, ya know?”
I wave her off as I push the old-fashioned, gold key into my door. “I’ve got a migraine, Betty Anne. Forgive me.” Not waiting for a reply, I quickly push through the door and enter my room.
My hands twitch, searching for an outlet I no longer allow myself. My mind is racing and spiraling with discord. The world is spinning, but then I realize it’s actually me, turning in place with my head in my hands. My chest tingles, and I squeeze my eyes tight to block out the first signs of spots that appear in my line of sight.
“No. No. No. You did this to yourself, Halt. This is your punishment.” My voice is choppy in the empty room, and I know I’m about to cave.
Grabbing the leather satchel my brother, Preston, routinely teases me for, I dig around until I pull out two hardcover journals. One about a year old, and one that hasn’t left my side since I was a child. The book of regret. The book of Rylan.
My breath hitches as I open the latter, and it lands on the very first entry. A rudimentary drawing by a guileless seven-year-old.
My fingers trace over the charcoal stick figures of a crying little girl and the boy who fell in love with her that day. The memory assaults my senses savagely. Struggling to catch my breath, I sink to the floor beside the bed as visions play through my mind like an old school film reel.
Walking down the Waverley-Cay Elementary School hallway, I’m taking the long way back to class, even though I might get into trouble. Ash started kindergarten this year, and he’s having trouble making friends. I hate it.
God, it’s like I can still smell the stale air that permeated the cement block building in the ninety-degree heat. I rub the tip of my nose harshly, attempting to get rid of the scent.
If I hurry, I know I can peek in on Ash and get back to my class before my teacher notices, but as I pass Colton’s classroom, I hear someone sniffle.
Glancing around, I wonder if I made it up. Then I see it. Two little, pink shoes are sticking out from under the rows and rows of raincoats that line the hallway. Not knowing what to do, I part the sea of rubber and vinyl and am shocked to see bright green eyes I recognize staring back at me, full of tears and sadness.
Rylan. Colton’s best friend. What the heck is she doing out here?
Her little finger goes to her lips, and she silently shakes her head as the tears fall. A funny sensation in my chest has me burrowing into the coats with her.
“Rylan? What are you doing out here?” I whisper. “Are you hurt?”
“Weave me awone, Hatty.” Her shaky voice is still thick with a lisp she hasn’t been able to shake. I can feel her pain as if it were my own, but her nickname causes that feeling in my chest to happen again. I’m not sure if I like it or not.
For some reason, I feel too warm every time she calls me Hatty. I know she can’t say Halton. She can’t say Colton either, but Cowty doesn’t make me feel funny.
“Rylan, I can’t leave you here. Do you need to go to the nurse?”
I’m a year older than Rylan. Dad says that means it’s my job to protect her.
The door beside us opens, and I hear her teacher instruct two little girls to search for Rylan.
How long has she been out here?
The door closes again, and the little girls snicker.
“Maybe she’s crying in the bathroom because we told her no one could go to her birthday party.”
“My mom said they probably wouldn’t even have goody bags,” the second girl gasps.
“Yeah, Mommy said I couldn’t go because that’s where bad people live. Can you believe Rylan is bad?”
My hands are curling into fists when I hear a whispered, “Pwease,” and I freeze in place.
“Maybe if we just yell into the bathroom, we won’t get the bad girl cooties.”
It’s the last remark I hear before their voices fade down the hall.
I immediately turn to Rylan, but she won’t look at me.
