The Lie (Kings of Linwood Academy 2)

Chase shushes his brother, then the two of them tug me toward a door and pull me inside an empty classroom. I almost trip over my own feet; I’m still trembling so badly I can hardly stand.

The classroom is dim. The lights are off, so the only illumination is from the gray winter sky outside. I can feel Chase hovering nearby as Dax grabs my shoulders gently, ducking his head to peer into my eyes. “What the hell happened, Low? What’s going on?”

“I got… expelled,” I choke out. “Savannah. She fucked with my tests again—and I got expelled.”

“Oh, shit.”

His face drops, and he tugs me into his arms. I never bothered putting my backpack on, and now the straps fall from my fingertips and it hits the ground with a dull thud.

Dax’s voice rumbles in his chest as he glances at Chase. “Text Linc and River. Tell them where we are. What’s going on. Shit.”

There’s a pause while Chase does what his twin asked, and then he steps up behind me, the hardness and warmth of his body shielding mine.

I don’t know how this keeps happening. How I keep ending up encapsulated between these two boys. I only know that it’s starting to feel like one of the safest places in the world. Their bodies surround me completely, Dax’s head by my right shoulder and Chase’s by my left, their arms looped around me like we’re some kind of three-headed statue.

And in this little bubble created by the three of us, the chaos and awfulness of the world can’t quite reach me.

I can breathe.

We stay like that until the door bangs open again, and when River and Lincoln storm into the empty classroom, I’ve finally pulled myself together enough to stand on my own.

“What the fuck?” Lincoln snarls. “Savannah?”

I nod, wiping my cheeks with the heel of my hand. “Yeah. Probably Trent too. They were giving me shit after my Business and Econ class—I just didn’t realize what it was about until it was too late. This was my third strike, and Mr. Osterhaut wasn’t kidding about coming down hard.”

River looks quietly furious, and Linc looks like this news, coupled with our suspicions about his dad, might send him over the edge entirely.

I shake my head slowly, trying to make myself believe the words even as I say them. “It doesn’t matter. It’s not that big a deal—it’s just a stupid school. I haven’t even gone here for a full semester anyway. I just… didn’t want to make shit harder on my mom.”

Linc’s eyes soften for a second as he looks at me. But then he shakes his head right back, his features hardening like steel.

“It does matter. And we’re gonna fucking fix this.”

19

I know Linc meant what he said, and I appreciate that the kings of Linwood, once my biggest detractors at the school, want to find a way to help me stay there.

But it’s not as easy as just busting into Mr. Osterhaut’s office and demanding he take me back. We need to come up with solid proof that I didn’t do it—and when the hell did my life become all about searching for evidence, trying to clear both my mom’s and my name before the people who framed us get away with it?

I can’t even help since I’m not supposed to be on school grounds. And since I’m not living in the Black household anymore, I can’t even use any of my sudden copious free time to snoop around in Mr. Black’s study or the rest of the house.

I feel fucking useless.

The day after my expulsion, I visit my mom at Fox Hill Correctional Center. I try to put a positive spin on it, pointing out that maybe now I’ll find a school that’s a better fit for me and assuring her that I didn’t actually cheat on any of the exams. I’m not sure if it makes her feel any better though.

What parent wants to hear that their kid essentially got bullied out of high school?

She doesn’t yell at me or blame me, but I can practically read the thoughts bouncing around in her head. They mirror my own.

If I just got kicked out of my fancy prep academy, and my mom’s currently sitting behind bars on a murder charge, what the fuck did we come to Fox Hill for?

As stressful as it may have been trying to make ends meet back in Bayard, at least our lives there were simple. Normal.

I can see guilt in Mom’s features, and I hate that I’ve taken away the little piece of consolation she was clinging to—the belief that no matter what’s happened to her, at least my life is better out here.

Our visit is short, and it’s the first time in as long as I can remember that we run out of things to say to each other.

I spend the next two days holed up in the basement at River’s house, trying to find a decent school that will take me this late in the game. I may have to wait until next semester to start, and that’ll put me behind for graduation.