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❝It is a fine line to walk when teaching someone that life is both beautiful and dangerous, to open up to the world as well as be on guard.❞

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*NOT EDITED*

Chapter Two

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IGNORING EVERYONE'S stares, I walk closer to April who is still quietly crying.

"Go to the bathroom, I'll meet you up there," I whisper in her ear and she nods weakly.

"Can I have her skirt?" I ask Phoebe. Her arms are crossed under her chest, one hand clutches the denim skirt.

She hands it to me wordlessly, but the glares she sends from her eyes are worth a thousand menacing promises and words.

I push my way out of the crowd, still feeling the stares of awe and reverence on me. No one ever stands up to Phoebe or dares to disagree on anything she says, even if Phoebe thinks the sun is green, then the sun is damned green. However, I am the only one who speaks up to her, but it's always over small things. Not big things like this, in front of the whole population of Kingston High.

I climb up the stairs and walk to the same bathroom where the couple was. I knock twice. "It's me, India."

The lock clicks, and the door opens to reveal a puffy faced April. Clearing my throat awkwardly, I step forward and hold out her denim skirt. I never know how to act when someone's crying; should I comfort her or should I just keep my mouth closed?

"Thank you," she says, her voice thick and hoarse. I take in her ruffled hair and messed up makeup.

All of this just because she accidentally spilled the punch on her shirt, I think with disgust.

"Are you okay?" I ask as she slips on her skirt.

"Am I okay?" she laughs humorlessly, "what kind of question is that? I find out that my boyfriend did the cliché of cheating on me with my sister, so my friends decided on taking me to a party to forget about him. I come to the party, they ditch me, and this happens! I feel like I'm in some kind of high school movie. Or is this a prank? Yeah, it has to be."

I try not to show my pity towards her. If there is anything I learned from experience it would be that I definitely don't want pity from someone else.

She turns to the sink and splashes some water on her face. I step next to her and slide the mirror to the right, revealing the medical cabinet. I pick out small packs of wipes and hand it to her. She thanks me quietly and I nod in reply.

"I'm guessing no one can drive you home," I state.

She nods and runs a hand through her hair. "I'll just walk home. I don't live that far away."

"It's fine, I'll drive you. I'm tired of this party anyway."

She doesn't argue; she's probably too tired to do it. She follows me down the stairs and I notice that the party is back to normal with the music on its loudest.

Everyone's eyes are still on us and it's starting to annoy me.

"Turn your eyes away or I'll poke them out for you," I say to a girl loud enough for everyone around me to here. She looks away instantly and I just shake my head.

Thankfully, I don't see Phoebe or anyone else as I maneuver April and me through the crowd. I'm about to open the front door when I feel a hand gripping my arm. I recoil back and turn around to see Hunter looking at me.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," I reply curtly.

He eyes April and from the corner of my eye, I can see her blush and look down.

I roll my eyes. "Is there anything else that you want, Hunter?"

"Yeah, I can drive you and . . ." his eyes skip to April again.

"April," she says.

"No, that's fine. You should go back to your girlfriend."

I'm turning away again, but he annoyingly holds my arm for the second time.

"Stop touching me," I snap.

"We need to talk-"

"No, we don't. Now, excuse me, April and I need to go."

I turn on my heels and step out of the house with April in my hand. The weather is still hot and humid like Miami isn't ready to leave summer just yet.

"What was that all about?" she asks as we step into the car.

"Listen, I saved you and all, but that doesn't mean we're BFFs, now." I turn on the engine and back out of the drive away.

I can't quite put my finger on why I'm so pissed off; there's the fact that I went to this party unwillingly, I couldn't find Jeromy, I just fueled the fire between Phoebe and me and now the rumors in Kingston High will start, or the fact that I just had this weird conversation slash argument with Hunter.

With both hands on the steering wheel, I look at April from the corner of my eye, regretting what I said.

I sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm just not feeling right."

She nods in understanding, but I know she doesn't understand. Nothing bad could compare to what she's been through today, I must sound like a whiny, rich brat.

"Hunter and I have a long," — I wince — "bad history."

"It's fine you don't have to talk about it," she says, looking through the window.

A comfortable silence falls over us and I'm thankful for it. I guess April is the kind of person that doesn't feel the need to fill in the silence.

"Turn this right," she says.

"I like your denim skirt." I eye her skirt that has patches and badges all over it. It's very vintage and cute.

"Thanks, I made it."

"Impressive. Left or right?"

"Oh, that left," she points, "I spent days and days working on it to give it to my sister. Turns out that 'just wasn't her style' so I took it for myself. It's sad, really. I'm always trying to impress her and kiss her ass."

"I know how you feel," I muse.

"I didn't know you have a sister?" she says surprised.

Of course, she doesn't. Being one of the most popular girls meant that everyone should know everything about you — from your first pet name to your current favorite band.

"That's because I don't. I'm a single child and that person is my mother." I shake my head.

"It's very scary," she replies quietly after a short while of silence.

"Huh?"

"Manipulative people. My sister's one of them. I'm always trying to please her like some kind of desperate puppy and she doesn't even bat an eye to me. I realize how pathetic I am, but I just never seem to be able to stop it. And now she slept with my boyfriend," she scoffs, "ex-boyfriend."

"I'm sorry," I say quietly.

She doesn't reply and from my peripheral vision, I see a lone tear fall down her cheek.

"Here, that's my house."

I slow down and park the car.

"Thank you for everything," she says, her hand on the door handle.

I smile a closed-mouth smile and nod. She waves, stepping out the car and walking up to her front porch.

I back the car out of the driveway and start heading home, the purr of the engine filling the silence.

The drive is long and I am thankful when I finally reach our high-class neighborhood. Eager to ditch the high-heeled boots I had on, I quickly park my car and walk up the front door of the mansion bought by two hardworking parents.

Mom is the CEO of Simone Corporate, one of the biggest fashion industries in Eastern America. She is a glamorous, French woman who believes in outdoor exercise, buying old antique to make the house as pretty as us, and plasters the perfect smile on her face that should represent the fact that we are all a perfect family with no worries or problems.

Dad is the complete opposite. He's the CEO of a large oil company that I never cared to understand. He is a simple man who's in love with my mom so much that he doesn't see that she believes the opposite of what he believes in: money can't buy happiness.

"I'm home," I call out to no one in particular as I step into the house. I hear the click-clock of approaching heels that belong to mom before I see her.

"What a surprise, you're earlier than you usually come home," she says. Being raised from the age of 4 in America, mom's accent is full-out American.

When I look at the big clock behind me, I see that it's ten past twelve. I sigh tiredly. "Mom, today has been a very long day. Can I just go upstairs and sleep without another argument?"

I start walking past her when she grabs my hand. "India, I'm just trying to make you the best. This all comes from my care and love to you."

"I know, but-" a muffled yawn interrupts my talking, much to her distaste, "can you do that later? Goodnight."

I don't wait for her to argue or protest anymore; my heels are killing me. I groan as I take the two flights of marble stairs before finally reaching my room. I don't waste a second when I take off the boots and flop on my bed, immediately dozing off.

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Author's Note:

Hey, guys! I'm currently working on a book trailer for High School Lies. It's almost done, and I can't wait to show you.

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