White Lies (Book 1)

Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Jennifer Hockley? She had been a piece of work.

It had all begun on a day where I had been running late for French. The endless halls and corridors still made little sense to me on my third week of school. Fully aware that I was running twenty minutes late, I quickly grabbed all of the books I needed. The harsh sound of my slamming locker echoed throughout the nearly empty halls.

Lie. I was already familiar with the school layout by now. I had been running late because I had waited Robbie to show up at our usual library spot. Yet again.

The three separate building facilities, all tall and incredibly state-of-the-art, marked the separation between the science, arts, and humanities classes. The gym was situated in the furthest southern point of the campus. Getting from one class to the next sometimes meant running from one side of the school grounds to another, arriving a few minutes late to class in a flustered, huffy state. A performing arts facility was still under construction. Students had to walk all the way around the construction area, further hampering our attempts at getting to class on time.

It was a beautiful, scenic route from my locker to French, yet very convoluted and often confusing. I frequently took the wrong turn and had to make my way back. Yet finding my way outside into the stunning landscaped grounds still took my breath away each time.

It was like a scene from a movie. In the peak of spring, the trees were heavy with lush leaves and flowers, scattering the grounds with colour. The lawns were always perfectly neat and trimmed. A commemorative fountain sat squat in the middle of the campus, adding a splash of blue to the already very lavish landscape.

I stopped for a second and breathed in the cool, crisp air. Admiring the way that light reflected against the leaves strewn artfully across the footpath. A beautiful school made up of beautiful people. With lots and lots of money.

But I wasn't alone – somewhere in the distance was a tall profile, walking briskly with his head down and his headphones in place.

"Robbie!" I cried, exultant.

I almost didn't recognise my own voice – my exhilaration at seeing him again seemed to burst out of me, carrying my feet to him, knowing and not caring that I must've disrupted half of the classes in the nearby rooms.

He took no notice of me. Either that, or he didn't hear. My fast pace eventually slowed to a walk. I was lagging behind him now, several feet behind, puzzled at why he hadn't turned around at the sound of my voice. His head stayed low. It occurred to me that he was just as late as I was to his next class – yet he had no textbooks with him.

Where was he going? And why hadn't he been meeting me at our spot?

Either way, it felt wrong to follow him the way that I did. I had to know where he was going. What he was doing. Why things had suddenly changed between us. Why so much distance now existed between me and the only friend I'd ever known.

He made a left towards the gym, brushing aside low-hanging branches and snapping twigs under his feet. From up closer, I could hear that the music he was belting through his headphones was loud. Very loud, and very angry. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and he seemed to be muttering to himself under his breath. I followed behind slowly, slightly to his right, straining my eyes to read his lips as they moved.

Fuck you, he mouthed. Fuck you, you need this, you piece of shit.

Wait. Could that really be what he was saying? I must've gotten it wrong.