Page 128 of The Lies We Steal

It just proved even more that they all had souls, no matter how hard they tried to conceal them.

Our professor chose this time to walk in, gathering all of our eyes to the front and pointing to the chalkboard where she began writing. The Latin words were nothing but gibberish in my head, from lack of sleep and understanding.

Second semester had finally begun. What that meant for me was a new set of courses, another step closer to my future, but it always meant stepping into the unknown.

As normal as the past few weeks had been, I knew what Alistair was doing when he stayed out with the guys. Plotting, planning, devising a plan that would end with the mayor of Ponderosa Springs six feet under.

Except now, there were investigators looking into it. The stakes were higher and even though it made me nervous, it barely phased them. They knew what they had done and they would be willing to pay for those actions if the time came for it.

I squint my eyes, reading the words in the chalk,

Temet nosce

“Does anyone know what this means?” The middle-aged, successful looking woman asks from the front, scanning the crowd for a brave hand.

When nothing but silence answers her, she sighs, ready to give us the translation only to be interrupted by the lecture hall door opening with a heavy creak. It’s human nature to be curious, to uncover the unknown.

It’s why everyone turns their heads to the entrance looking at the person who is walking in late.

Strawberry blonde hair hangs in a blunt shoulder length cut, brushing the tops of her shoulders as she walks in holding books close to her chest. Walking with practiced grace and femineity that I would kill for. It’s not her beauty that has piqued my interest, it’s the way everyone in the class gasps and stares.

Everyone seems to be frozen, staring at this poor girl who doesn’t know what to do but stare back. It’s like they’ve seen a ghost.

“Who is that?” I ask Lyra in a whisper.

I hear the clock on the wall tick.

One.

Two.

Three.

“Sage Donahue.”

Rook

Remember when you were a child and they would yell at your for poking the fire? Told you that you’d piss the bed if you kept doing it or worse, it would hurt you. Then you grew up in fear of the crackling heat, knowing if you touched it, there would be repercussions.

I am that fire. The flame. The blaze.

Unpredictable in ways you could never imagine. There is no taming me, it’s impossible. I burn way too high, way too hot, to ever be put out.

You play with me and you are left burned. Roasted alive left only with seared skin and blisters to remember me by.

The match in my mouth snaps, clean in two between my teeth. Split right down the middle, the only sound to be heard in this class.

I thought it was the weed that was making me trip, my brain playing a sick trick. But everyone else seemed to be trapped in my hallucination as well, meaning my worst nightmare had just walked right back into my fucking life.

She was back.

Lyra and Briar sat adjacent to me, whispering about the new student that had stolen everyone’s attention.

Yeah, she used to be really good at that. Being the apple of everyone’s eye with that natural strawberry tinted hair that always looked like flames wrapped around my hand.

Everyone’s golden girl, queen bee, rally girl, homecoming sweetheart. All sweet and sugar that had gotten stuck in my teeth, before I ripped it out. I’m sure I was the only one who hated her. Probably because I was the only one who really knew her.

Miss Americana had demons. Skeletons. Things she’d die if anyone found out about.