White Lies (Book 1)

Chapter 24

I suppose I needed to tread lightly.

Robbie was once in their midst, and would talk enthusiastically of ditching classes he didn't like, so that he could hang out in that cleared-out storage room and play hours of World of Warcraft with people from across the world.

I hadn't had the heart to show him my amusement. That would have been cruel.

Nathan walked right through those doors, interrupting a handful of busy students who were deeply engaged in their hobbies. "Hey, Quoc. I need a favor from you guys," he nodded to a short, acne-riddled boy hiding behind thick glasses.

Quoc was startled out of the thick book he was reading. "Sure. What is it?"

"Do you remember that short film you made for your Media class last term? The one I helped you out with?"

Quoc looked perplexed by the sudden reminder, his bushy eyebrows burrowing. "I guess. What do you guys need?"

His reading nook had very suddenly been encroached upon.

"Can I grab a copy? I need to show Jess – she's planning her short film for class and would love some inspiration," Nate lied, effortlessly pleading his case with charm. "I know you guys aren't cool just letting anyone in here. But could you make an exception just this once? Think of it as returning the favor. It's kind of important."

"And I won't rip off any of your ideas – I promise," I added, playing along.

His nervousness turned to vague suspicion. "But why do you need my film?"

"Jess wants to go for that same cinematography vibe – that David Attenborough meets high school jungle docu-fiction feel. Y'know? Of course, her execution will be completely different–"

"Yeah, my film's going to be all about turtles, and y'know, turtle culture—"

"—it's always good to learn from the greats and to see how they've mastered their craft before starting any creative endeavor. Wouldn't you agree?"

His dark eyes turned away, a light flush blooming across his cheeks. "Y-Yeah, I guess. Okay. I have it on a USB stick somewhere..."

He pulled out his schoolbag and rummaged around for a pencil case. Inside was the tiny memory device in question – he tossed it to Nate, who smiled in thanks. "Just please give it back."

"Thank you – we will," I replied, feeling deeply appreciative of this strange boy. I'm sure that whatever we would find on that stick – and I still had no clue where Nate was taking me with this – would be better than having nothing at all.

Before leaving, Nathan took a quick glance around the room, stopping before a series of photographs mounted along a wall. Yearbook photos of past AV club members – the years starting from 2002, 2003, 2004...

"There." Nate pointed to a smiling figure – a girl with braces. Underneath was the label 'Graduating Class of 2010 – AV Club Committee'. "That's my sister. She was king of this club back in her day."

I peered at her small, pixelated face with deep astonishment. Nate had an older sister? Was that the reason behind his intimate familiarity with all these people? I lingered over that face for as long as I could, before we finally turned away and made for the door, making our way out into open air once again.

"By the way," he began, his tone light and teasing, "I really hope you end up making this imaginary film one day. I'd love to know your take on turtles and turtle culture."

I couldn't help but laugh. Nathan had a way of putting me at such ease, so naturally and so effortlessly on his end.

"You never told me you had a sister," I pointed out.

He gave me a wry glance. "Course I do. I have a full family. What did you expect – that I was this obnoxious only child with two rich asshole parents?"

That had been more or less my line of thinking, I thought. We walked along the school grounds aimlessly, quickly growing comfortable in each other's presence. "Well I've met your older brother – James. He was the one at that meeting. Sitting in for your father."

"Was that so?" his lips twisted up, but he wasn't smiling. "And what did you think of him? Were you dashed by his stunning good looks?"

Well – yes. I hesitated on my answer, just slightly. But Nathan was quick to notice.

"Happens to everyone," he reassured me. "But I'm not bothered. I'm just waiting for the day when you wake up from your bed, open your blinds, and you find me standing beneath your window with a jukebox over my head. Playing some beautiful song about love and life, that only I could ever have picked out for you. Then you'll rush out into the street, dramatically fly into my arms, and finally reconcile yourself to the fact that you're deeply, passionately, in love with me."

"Stop it!" I laughed, shoving my elbow into his ribs and hoping it hurt. He cackled evilly at my expense – making fun of me, I knew, but in a very, very different way to what I had always known. This was better. It felt good. It felt great.

We naturally pulled apart at the sound of the bell, making our way to our different classes. The smile on my face never wavered – and the feeling of walking down those very familiar corridors, grinning and irrationally cheerful, was like a sigh of relief. It felt like a fresh start, a new feeling of hope.

And afterwards, walking out from one class towards the next, it seemed as if I imagined Nathan's voice to be following me everywhere.

Except I hadn't imagined it. That really was his voice I could hear from close by.

I braced myself against the sea of students hurrying their way to their next destination, straining my ears to pick up what I thought was the sound of Nathan – laughing, murmuring, charming and dazzling as he did so well.

I moved closer towards his conversation, craning my head around the corner which kept me partially hidden. I could see the back of his head – that brilliant color of hair against his tall profile. His white shirt and leather shoes.

And a girl.

"Promise me?" he asked, close enough to her to suggest that they had been well acquainted with one another, once upon a time. A time before any investigation or disappearance, long before a time when I existed to him.

I felt a strange pressure against my chest. A crushing, wheezing feeling.

The girl's face moved in and out of my line of sight, sharpening, becoming more familiar. Liz Johnson. One of his many bed notches, I was sure. Myself included.

Liz giggled, her eyes shining and mouth simpering under the light of his attention. "Yeah, sure. Just text me." Nathan made an unknown gesture of some sort – a wink, perhaps – which made her laugh again. Then she was off.

There was nothing more to see. I closed my eyes, suddenly becoming aware of my own heaving chest. Nothing more to be done, other than to get the answers needed to solve the case. That's all this was.

Stupid, stupid.

I didn't linger around to watch him – still standing there, unmoving, a branded image in my mind.