The Truths we Burn (The Hollow Boys Book 2) Page 7

  I push myself out of the seat, making my way down the aisle towards the front of the stage with heavy footsteps.

  “What was that?” I plant my hands flat on the stage, vaulting myself up so that I’m standing in the shadows while she continues to gawk at me from the spotlight. “Romeo and Juliet?”

  It takes her a moment to realize what is going on. The vulnerable girl who seemed to be enjoying herself on this stage retreats, and out comes her protector. We all become something scary in order to protect our true selves and the ones we love.

  I see her mask. And I’m tired of her keeping it on when she’s around me.

  I want to see the ugly pain beneath. The secret scars she covers, the monsters eating at her flesh. Those are real, and life is too short to focus on the fake.

  “What are you doing here, Rook?” she says, folding the pages of the book in her hand until they are closed, waving it around to sweep the smoke away from her. “You can’t smoke in here! It’s a freaking fire hazard.”

  “Let’s be honest, Sage. I’m a fire hazard,” I joke, but it doesn’t land the way I want.

  Tough crowd.

  “Let’s pretend you didn’t see me here,” she mutters, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear and moving to leave.

  “Ah, ah, ah,” I start. “Not so fast. What were you doing?” My body blocks hers from the steps, keeping her from leaving.

  “Performing open-heart surgery,” she deadpans. “What does it look like, idiot.”

  I click my tongue, taking in another deep inhale of the weed before putting the cherry out on my jeans. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a theatre geek.”

  “Do not call me that,” she hisses, pointing her dark red nails at me. “If you tell anyone what you saw, you will regret it, pyro.”

  Testosterone fills me up. The challenge she is presenting is almost too much to handle. Is she threatening me? Thinking she can do to me what she does to everyone else? Cut me down with menacing words?

  Apparently, she has not learned who she’s working with here.

  “Yeah? What are you gonna do about it, TG?”

  TG. I like it. Theatre Geek. It feels like a little secret on top of a secret that I could dangle above her head.

  She pauses, trying to think of what she could possibly say that would scare someone like me into silence. I enjoy watching her scramble for something, anything to use against me in this situation.

  “That’s the problem. You have nothing on me. You have no rumors, no secrets, nothing to spill about me. And that’s your only power in this place. Without that, you have absolutely nothing.”

  All of which is true.

  How do you scare the guy with no fear?

  I’ve taken away her only bargaining chip. This is how she keeps people at arm’s length, because she has the power over them. No one knows anything about Sage except what she wants you to.

  Now, she’s caught in my web.

  “Rook, listen—”

  “Oh, it’s Rook now? What happened to pyro?”

  Frustration rattles her, but beneath that is fear.

  Her anxiety-riddled, flushed skin makes her cinnamon-colored freckles even darker. I had held a hot match to her neck last month. With her fragile neck in my grip, I could’ve killed her, but she didn’t so much as blink. It wasn’t fear that day, it was excitement.

  They are two different emotions, and you can feel the difference. It’s in the way her heart fluttered against my palm and her eyes stayed wide.

  I know fear, and I know exhalation.

  But right now, she’s afraid, scared I’ll tell people about her in the theatre. Something that up till now I wasn’t aware was private.

  “Stop being a jackass. You think I like asking you favors?” she snaps, pressing her fingers into her eyes before sighing. “Just,” she breathes, “just please don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s not something that everyone knows.”

  I pause, tilting my head, waiting to see if I should push her any further or let her have this one.

  Her eyes do that thing they did on stage earlier, where they soften and the blue color isn’t so harsh, but they still burn bright like gas flames. The trick is figuring out if this is all a show or if she’s being honest.

  Either way, I’m not leaving until I get some form of leverage over her.

  “I’ll keep my mouth closed, under one condition.” I offer, stepping closer to her. The smell of her perfume mixing with my marijuana creates this sort of fever dream aroma that makes my high feel more intense.

  She touches her tongue to her upper lip. “What is it?”

  I bend down to her height, my face level with hers, our eyes creating one direct line. “Tell me the truth. Why do you care?”

  “About what?” She’s stalling, trying to avoid the question.

  “Don’t play dumb, Sage. It’s not a good look on a girl like you. Why do you care if people find out about your hobby? It’s not something that would be frowned on or taint your image, so why do you care?”

  My eyes flick to her body, seeing her fists clenched so tightly that her hands are ghostly. Even so, she stands her ground, keeping her eyes on mine. Like she’s so confident that I won’t see through her, into her.

  “Because when you give the people here genuine pieces of who you are, they blend them up and drink it down with their morning breakfast. They will stomp out every hope you’ve ever had. When Ponderosa Springs learns your secrets, it holds you captive forever. There is no getting out, and I am not letting that happen.”

  I’d be lying if I said her answer didn’t shock me.

  It makes me wonder if Sage has already seen the wicked ways of this town up close and personal, if the sweetheart everyone knows is harboring something disastrous and twisty within the walls of her mind.

  “What happened to you?” I ask accidentally, meaning to say it in my head.

  “Enough to know better.”

  A bell rings abruptly, the sound of students filling the halls, and all authenticity disappears. She picks her bag up off the stage, moving past me and down the steps.

  It makes sense now, how she starred me down when I threatened her on the side of the road. How she was so unafraid.

  There are only two people who can look the pits of hell in the eyes and not flinch.

  Those in Hell and those who already made their way out.

  Sage

  I knew something was wrong the moment I walked into the Sinclair household. Actually, I think I figured it out when my parents told me we were going to dinner there.

  We’ve been invited to holiday parties every year, birthday events, even hosted one of my father’s campaign brunches in their backyard.

  But never just dinner.

  Easton sits to my direct left, his father at the head of the table. His mother sits across from her son and my parents beside her. There’s nothing but the quiet clutter of silverware hitting plates as they all eat in what’s a peaceful silence for them.

  I feel Easton’s hand glide to my thigh, resting there, giving me a gentle squeeze as he sits back in the wooden chair.

  “So, Sage, you’ve received another homecoming nomination this year? What is that, four years running now?” Stephen asks me directly, my spine stiffening as he uses my name. Every time he speaks, it’s with a tone of discipline, even when he’s being chatty.

  I nod politely. “Yes, sir. All four years of high school.”

  “She’s being modest, Dad. It’s already a win for her. Sage has won homecoming court every year. As if they’d pick anyone else.” Easton bumps my shoulder with his own.

  “Some people enjoy being humble, son. Not everyone needs to flaunt their accomplishments. You could learn a thing or two from her,” he taunts, lifting his wineglass and sipping the dark red liquid.

  It’s a crash course in how to patronize someone. Easton’s father is a professional at it, so good that everyone around laughs at what they think is a good joke.

  Although I’m not
fond of my boyfriend all the time, I also know what it’s like to be a prisoner in your own home. To be talked down to by the people who are supposed to care the most.

  I reach over, fixing a piece of stray blond hair lovingly. “I beg to differ, Mr. Sinclair. Your son has taught me more than you’d ever know over the years. I wouldn’t be who I am without him.”

  All of which is true—he did help show me what I could be and what I couldn’t be. Easton showed me how to have power; it’s his own fault that I took it all for myself.

  “That’s sweet of you, honey. Makes me proud of my little boy,” says Lena.

  Lena Sinclair, his mother, is a stunning woman. Age has gifted her with more and more beauty as the days go by. The short blonde pixie cut makes me jealous of her bone structure, all angles and dimensions while mine sits neutrally round, and my forehead always looks longer even after I’d learned what contouring was.

  I’m not the only person that noticed Lena’s beauty either.

  Easton’s greatest family shame is that Wayne Caldwell enjoyed helping himself to Lena’s beauty every Saturday at the country club for an entire two years before anyone even noticed.

  He would kill me if I ever muttered a word about it, because if Alistair Caldwell found out, he would take Easton to the grave with disgrace. The town would smile in their faces, but they would be part of the rumor mill for years.

  I only know because Easton had gotten drunk after a party our freshman year. He spilled it when he was cussing about the Hollow Boys and their ratty prominence.

  It’s one of my biggest secrets inside my jar of blackmail, and he knows if he takes a step too far with me, I’ll tell everyone.

  “Not a little boy, Mom.”

  “I know, sweetie. I just—”

  “Speaking of being a man, I think it’s about that time, Easton, don’t you think?”

  I knew something was wrong when we walked into this house.

  But it would seem that was because I was the only one who hadn’t been told what was about to happen.

  “Time for what?” I ask softly, taking a drink of my water, looking around at all the eyes that are on me.

  There is an uncomfortable stillness that makes me shift in my chair. I set my glass down. “Is there something I’m missing or…?” I laugh to try to lighten the mode that has settled in the room from their blatant stares.

  You know when you don’t want to turn around because you know the slasher in the horror movie is standing there, so you try to avoid it?

  That’s what I do as I hear the chair next to me squeak. I hold my gaze with my father, who is trying to look everywhere but at me.

  “Sage?” Easton clears his throat, attempting to grab my attention.

  My mom’s eyes are lit up, dimming the longer I refuse to turn to face him. My ears fill with fluid, rushing with thunderous movements. I can taste the water in my lungs growing higher, the urge to cough heavy, the need to breathe without my chest feeling like it’s being compressed by a semi-truck.

  I spin, painfully slow, a broken clock on its last rotation, to find the boyfriend I’m only dating for status down on one knee holding an ungodly large diamond that is going to send me into an epileptic fit.

  Waves and waves of water submerge me.

  Dark, cloudy water that eats me up, pulling me further from the light.

  I’m drowning in front of all these people, and not a single one cares enough to pull me up for air.

  “Sage?” he says again. “Did you hear what I said?”

  I’m not sure what is worse—the silence or how confident he looks. There isn’t a drop of sweat on his forehead, and he isn’t shaking. It’s like he knows I won’t say no.

  “Are you proposing to me right now?” I say with what oxygen I have left inside of me.

  “Well, I have the ring, and I’m on one knee, so…” He grins, nodding his head.

  I had been flawless all night. Kept my composure, done what needed to be done to get through this dinner, but this? This is too much, even for me.

  “We’re eighteen, East. We haven’t even graduated high school yet. I don’t think this is the—” I grind my teeth, a nervous chuckle escaping me. “—right time for this.”

  “Babe, come on.” He waves off all my warning signs. “We’ve been together since middle school. This is no big thing.”

  It’s then he grabs for my hand, pulling it closer to his chest to slide the ring onto my finger, but I jerk it back from him as if he’d tried to burn me.

  “Mom, Dad, I can’t.” I look to my parents, watching their faces, seeing the truth in front of my eyes in big, bold, flashing neon lights.

  “You knew this was going to happen today, didn’t you?” I direct towards them, averting my stare to Easton’s parents. His mother looks nervous, and his father seems annoyed by my lack of excitement.

  “I can’t do this right now. I can’t do this. I’m sorry.” My palms dig into the dining table as I push myself back, and vomit sits in my throat.

  I almost fall when I stand up, my legs shaking beneath me, but I’m not staying here. I’m not staying here.

  This can’t be happening right now. Had I played this part so well that I landed myself in this position? There’s an entire year of school left—this isn’t supposed to happen this early.

  I would have been able to say no without a problem at graduation, but I can’t right now. Why would I? Everyone thinks we are obsessed with each other—shouldn’t I be happy?

  My heels drown out the noise of chairs moving and raised voices, all except Stephen’s, who puts the bullet in my coffin.

  “You better figure this out, Frank. We had a deal. Let’s not forget, you need this more than I do.”

  My hands pull at the front door, and I’m thankful I drove myself here this evening. The fresh air almost feels worse. I’m desperate to resurface from this, but it seems everyone is intent on holding me beneath the water.

  “Sage, stop.” My father’s voice makes me do just that, like he’s grabbing the back of my neck and holding me there to die.

  I spin, the gravel of the driveway crunching beneath me. “You blindsided me with this!” I accuse. “Mom, I wouldn’t have been shocked, but you? You’ve always been honest with me.”

  My relationship with my dad isn’t one to write home about. We talk about his work and school. We aren’t the picture of a father-daughter relationship, but like I said, he never lied to me.

  Not once.

  He’s always been brutally honest about everything.

  “We’re broke,” he says, running a hand through his gray hair before dragging it down his face in frustration. “Broke. We have nothing.”

  I furrow my eyebrows. “And that has something to do with my engagement at the ripe age of eighteen?”

  “We have no money, Sage!” he shouts before realizing there are still people inside who could be listening and takes it down a notch. “Nothing left. The only reason we’re able to pay our mortgage is because of Stephen. He has been financing me for years as mayor. But now? This is money we are using to survive. He agreed to continue the funding as long as your and Easton’s relationship ended in a marriage.”

  “What? Why? That doesn’t even make sense. Easton wouldn’t be short on relationships if I said no.”

  “Stephen knows what Easton needs, and that’s you. He wants him to be with someone…” He draws it out, trying to find the words.

  “Someone he thinks he can control,” I finish, shaking my head in disbelief.

  “No, it’s not—”

  “How long ago did you make this deal?” I interrupt.

  I was the one who drew the short end of this stick. Every single person inside that house knew about this and left me out in the fucking dead of winter, butt naked.

  They had done this behind my back, taking my control away from me.

  When he doesn’t answer, I say it louder. “How long!”

  “Four—four years ago. Your mother and I though
t it was God’s will that you two ended up dating, that this would be no issue, Sage! You’re young and in love—what’s wrong with being engaged, with getting married when you’re in love?”

  I stare at his eyes, at the same blue that swirled around my own irises, and can’t believe I was created from someone like this. That those two people had been what made me. That even I, as young as I am, know I would never do this to my own children.

  That this, no matter how they spin it or dress it up, is another wrongdoing they have done to me.

  “What’s wrong with you!” I shout. “I deserve a choice! What if Easton hit me? What if I don’t want to be married? If I don’t love him? You’d still make me marry him, wouldn’t you?”

  Tears stream down my face, and I can feel mascara dripping down my cheeks. Everything is falling apart, and the worst part is it doesn’t matter to them.

  My father stands there, looking at me with not an ounce of regret or pain or hurt. Just frustration and anxiety that I’m not telling him what he wants to hear.

  That I’m not playing the part anymore.

  “You don’t care, do you?” I cough out, stumbling back farther away from him and closer to my car.

  “I do care, Sage. I want a good life for you, and Easton can provide that, but—”

  The waves surge higher, the creatures from the deep gnawing at my legs starting to work their way up. When you drown, your instincts tell you to kick, jump, anything because you’re so desperate to reach that surface.

  I stood still, letting it happen.

  “If you say no, then I’ll make Rose do it. And you know she will. Rosie is softhearted—she isn’t calculated like you are. She’ll do it because she loves you and doesn’t want to see you unhappy. Just like I know if you love your sister, you won’t do the same to her. Rose will not survive in a lifestyle like this, but you, Sage, you can thrive in it.” The way he says it is so calm, like he practiced this speech in the mirror. As if this was the whole plan the entire time.

  Everything is burning.

  My ears, my lungs, my skin.

  I’m standing outside, but I craved oxygen.