Page 13 of The Lies We Steal

In my head, when I got here I was going to be a social butterfly. Lyra and I would be chatting with girls about classes or boys we thought were cute. Maybe I’d even be talking to a guy who I might give my phone number to.

That was not the case, at all.

“Okay so maybe,” I make an oof sound as someone slams into me drunkenly, muttering a sorry before continuing to walk past me, “Maybe this wasn’t the best plan. In my defense, I didn’t think the party would be like this!”

I looked out at the backyard of Jason’s house, we stood on the back patio where bodies filled the backyard and in-ground pool. It was a beautiful pool, one that made the swimmer in me envious. It was the only sport I was decent at and not even my high school had one this nice.

Well minus the bodily fluids and trash at the moment. The DJ blared music from multiple speakers around the house, and God if you thought the backyard was packed. Bodies were filling every square inch of this mansion, pouring out of the living room, kitchen, and even upper bedrooms.

I watched through the haze of the fog machine and weed, as bodies grinding together to the thumping beat.

“I told you, the kids of Ponderosa Springs aren’t normal. Everything they do, they have to do ten times harder than regular teenagers. It’s the money. Gives them all this complex that they are untouchable.” She yells over the music.

I’d practically dragged my new roommate to this place, spewing some bullshit about us trying to be something more than ghosts. This was our freshman year of college, the next four years were supposed to be the best of our lives.

I thought a party was the perfect way to kickstart that.

Obviously, I had the right intentions, the execution was just a tad off.

“I vote we leave and hit up Tilly’s diner for greasy burgers and fries, what do you think?” Lyra offers, seeing how uncomfortable we both are.

I take another look around, couples, throuples and more with their tongues down each other’s throats. Watching the sly transaction of pills in little plastic baggies. My lungs burned at the recycled air even though we were all outside, I wanted to be anywhere else but here right now.

“Hell yes—” I start but my voice is drowned out by the chant of someone’s name.

Lyra and I both shift our gazes to the roof where a guy stands on top of it, wearing only what God gave him and a lacrosse helmet.

“Dear God…” Lyra mutters, shielding her eyes just as he screams something incoherently, and propels himself off the roof and into the pool.

Those around us lose whatever sense they have left, screaming, laughing, completely submerged at the moment.

“If I never come to one of these again, it’ll be too soon,” I mutter, Lyra nods her head in agreement. Tossing her drink over her shoulder,

“I have to go to the bathroom real quick, then we can leave.”

“Do you want me to come with you? I don’t know if I trust everyone here.” She yells over the chaos.

“Yeah! That way we don’t lose each other.”

Together we make our way through the yard towards the backdoor, the heat inside the living room slaps me in the face, taking me aback a little. It’s pitch-black inside, the only light is the silver strobe bulbs that sporadically span across the room. It’s a snug squeeze inside, people crammed impossibly close to each other.

How does anyone even enjoy this?

My sweaty hands clutch Lyra’s as she navigates through the people best she can. It feels like we are making headway through everyone until someone jostles into the middle of us.

My hand slips out of hers, my drink spilling down the front of my shirt, and to make matters worse it’s so dim I can barely see anyone’s face.

“Lyra!” I shout over the derangement, squinting my eyes trying to catch a glimpse of her wavy brown hair and patterned shirt.

My breathing shortens, my mouth dries as I lick my lips to wet them a bit. Wishing I wasn’t wearing my drink now because my throat feels like the Sahara. I try to remain calm, not wanting to freak out, and suddenly develop a fear of closed spaces.

My feet scuffing forward, my eyes spot the front door and assuming that’s where Lyra would go too if we lost each other. There’s just a mountain of people I need to get through first.

The music changes, no longer an upbeat hip-hop song with a strange remix, instead it’s a piercing screech of a guitar paired with frenetic drums. A sudden icy breeze races down my spine, unwanted chills sprinkling across my skin. My senses widen. My skin tingling, breaths settling deeper in my stomach. My ears almost twitching at every tiny sound.

I know this sensation. I’ve been trained to notice it, even when other people don’t recognize the subtle feeling of being followed, I do. You have to always trust your gut as a thief, knowing the right time to strike is just as important as the skill itself.

So I think, actually, I know there is someone here watching me. I turn swiftly, checking my left and right, everyone is caught up in the elation this party has given them.

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