Page 33 of The Lies We Steal

“This is where I do my taxidermy. It’s a lot more spacious and I don’t have to worry about anyone barging in on me.” She swirls in a small circle, arms outstretched as she looks up at the roof, like this place is some grand dining hall and I suppose to Lyra, it is.

“So, why bugs?” I ask, grabbing a wooden crate and turning it on its top so I can sit down on it.

“Why not bugs?”

“Touché.”

“My mom was a biologist, she worked with snakes in her medical research, so weird animals were common around my house. Probably why I take so well to your pet rat,” She winks, using her flashlight to look around corners and underneath old boxes.

“Is your mom still…?” I ask, dragging it out hoping I haven't brought up a sensitive topic. Every time she talks about her, it’s always in the past tense and I assumed that she had passed.

“Nope. Dead as a doornail,” My eyes widen slightly at her crude words, but I know probably better than anyone that people cope with loss very differently, “She died when I was seven. I was put into foster care and when I turned eighteen I had full access to my inheritance and the insurance money. So I enrolled, figured I’d already spent my entire youth here, might as well get my education here.”

I nod, taking in all this new information, liking the fact that I was getting to know her. I’d never had a real friend before and this was starting to feel a lot like a friendship that would last all through college.

She leaps towards a scattering bug on the floor, her small hands skillfully pick it up, holding it in her palm as it crawls around on its six legs. Her flashlight shines on the exoskeleton, the insect's colors almost iridescent with its rich greens and shiny blues.

“Jewel Beetle, people used to use their carapace for jewelry in religious ceremonies. Now they're just a collector's item due to their color.” She stares at the pretty bug, her eyes light up with wonder and curiosity. She picks up a clear jar and slips it inside before shutting the lid tight.

“What about you? Is your mom dead? Your father? Siblings? You don’t talk about yourself much, I’ve noticed. You’re not a secret resident advisor, are you?” She jokes, her airy voice making me smile.

I’d never had anyone ask me that. My entire life no one had taken the liberty to ask me about who I was, about my life. I was struggling, trying to decide if I wanted to be honest about my parents, about what my father did, and who he made me into. Or if I wanted to lie because it’s not like Lyra would ever know.

She would only know what I tell her.

I could make myself into anyone I wanted.

“My mom still lives in Texas and my dad is in state lockup, has been since I was thirteen.” I breathe, “Grew up in the same broken-down trailer since I was born and I’m an only child. Not much to say about me, honestly.”

“Is your dad in for something bad? Like killing someone?”

I shake my head, “Nope. He was a career thief. Pickpocketing, looting, that kinda stuff. One day he thought he could take on a bank. He was wrong.”

“You miss him?”

“Yeah, every day. I know being a criminal is bad, stealing is wrong, but everything he ever did he did for me and my mom. He was just working with what he had. I did learn a few tricks from him though.” I say with a smirk.

Choosing to be honest with Lyra wasn’t that troublesome. I didn’t want the foundation of our friendship to be built on lies. That’s never healthy or good for anyone in the long run. Plus, I knew I could trust her not to judge me for anything I told her.

“Am I going to have to lock up my Cherry Coke and dark chocolate to prevent you from jacking it at night?” She says with a matching grin.

I laugh, “Your stash is safe, scouts honor.” Raising three fingers and placing my hand on my heart.

The minutes pass, me watching her snoop around for interesting creatures that most would smash underneath a flip flop. I even held a beetle that she swore would not bite me and it was kinda cool. The longer I’m down here the less creepy it becomes, once you get over the fact dead bodies are surrounding you it’s not that bad.

It’s kinda like a secluded hideaway and because of that, we’ve decided to make it our gathering place for the Loner Society. A secret order of two people and two people only. Well, I guess until we make more friends if that ever happens.

Everything was going fine until the sharp sound of someone screaming penetrated the air. It ricocheted off the walls, vibrating my feet and the chambers of my heart constricted with panic. I jumped involuntarily, peering up at the steps from where the sound came. It was a cry for help and the scariest part was it wasn’t far away.

It was close.

Right outside the doors of the mausoleum.

They say you never know how your fight or flight instinct will work until it’s triggered. It’s easy enough to sit behind a movie screen and shout at the girl, “Don’t go in the closet!”

But it’s not simple when you’re the girl trapped in a creepy underground cemetery and the only way out of it is to face whatever it is that’s outside making a helpless human scream bloody murder.

“Did you—” I start.

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