Page 53 of The Lies We Steal

“You really think we are going to find it before try hard Tracy and golden boy Garrett do?” Her eyes advert to Easton and Mary, a power couple in both vision and personality.

I don’t miss the yellow and purple bruise adorning his otherwise perfect face or the way Mary has intentionally matched her cardigan to the color of his shirt.

“This isn’t about whose daddy can buy them the biggest yacht. This is about navigating a maze. No money. No status. Sure, from day to day they have the upper hand, but right now, we have the advantage.”

“Our charming personalities?”

I push her shoulder lightly, the breeze catching her curls and pushing them behind her shoulder, “Besides that, smartass. Our advantage is street smarts. You think these kids have ever had to think on their feet before? Get themselves out of a tricky situation without their mom and dad? I doubt it.” I wasn’t being mean, just telling the truth.

It seemed to me Lyra and I were the only two people at this school who’d grown up below the millionaire line. Sure Lyra had money now as an eighteen-year-old, but she grew up in the system and I knew how that was. I saw what foster care did to kids. What it turned them into and let them become.

From birth you’re brought into this world without the ability to take care of yourself. You have to learn and adapt from others. Most have parents who guide and teach them. To show them the wrongs and rights of life.

Then there are others.

The outcasts, the castaways, the loners of the world who learn all these things themselves. We learn the hard way, we learn by failing, by mistakes. We grow claws and sharp teeth instead of warm hearts. We fight our way to the top. We take care of ourselves and our own. That’s it.

“You’re not worried about—” She pauses, looking over her shoulder to make sure no one is listening, “The maze catching fire or being hooked by a bear trap?”

I don’t laugh, even though I should. I wouldn’t put it past any of them to do something like that.

Was I worried? Yes.

Was I going to let that ruin this? I was going to try like hell not to.

“I doubt they’ll be here tonight. Plus they can’t get into the maze when we are inside, there are teachers at both entrances. We should be safe to enjoy ourselves tonight, okay?’ I reassure her.

She nods, not realizing that I plan on continuing, “But I really think we should consider telling someone, Lyra.”

Nothing comes out of her mouth for a while, silence as we hear an airhorn blare around us over and over again signaling the start and finish of people’s time inside the Labyrinth.

“Let’s take tonight. Just this moment. Just one night of normal and we can talk about what we need to do in the morning.”

It was the closest I’d gotten to a yes from her. I knew she was more apt to say no right now, but I still felt like this was a small win. She was beginning to warm up to the idea of confiding in someone. The police. A teacher. Anyone who could help us.

I hook my arm through hers, “You gonna be able to keep up in that skirt?” The green and black plaid material brushed the top of her thighs, putting me in the mind of Slytherin uniforms from Harry Potter.

It was cute the way Lyra was such a paradox. She wore plaid skirts and corduroy pants to collect creepy insects from the mud. Always coming into the dorm with dirt dusting her knees and palms. The way she crossed her legs when she sat with a book in her lap yet burped louder than any grown man I’d heard after downing a can of Coke. How she could be so soft, so feminine, yet do something that would be viewed as tom boyish. I admired the way she was able to balance out the pieces of herself so easily.

“Probably not, but we are gonna give it a shot.” She laughs, pulling me towards the shortening line for the entrance to the maze.

We talked to pass the time, watched as students failed over and over again, the shrill airhorn piercing the sky just before a teacher announced another team had yet to locate the key.

Our turn was next, we stood between Lyra’s psych teacher and my statistics professor, waiting for the go-ahead to enter the looming darkness between the plush green hedges.

A gust of wind hit me from the back, pushing me forward enough that I had to catch myself on the edge of the maze. It barreled through the trees, their achy limbs groaning and swaying beyond us.

Looking down at my balled fists, the way my nails dig into the flesh of my palm, as the rhythm of my heart begins to pick up.

“Briar!” Lyra snaps her fingers in front of my face, attempting to bring me back to earth.

“We are up.” She smiles, heading into the Labyrinth first.

The fog has settled low on the ground, sucking her up into the mist as she disappears inside. Fear licks the back of my neck, but I quickly shake it off. Following after my friend.

My hand reaches out to run along the side of the hedge maze, my other clicking the on button on my flashlight. The glare hits Lyra in the face and she raises her hand to shield off the bright light.

I point the light towards the left, then back to the right seeing the two different paths. The fog making distant visibility nearly impossible.

---