The Truth About Kian

02. Seas would rise when I gave the word

Liam's smile widened, only confirming what I already knew. "Look who's interrupting now."

I shrugged, and went back to eating my cookie. I didn't know what it was about Liam that made me bolder—or why I wasn't paying for my rude responses—but I knew better than to push my luck.

"Anyway, Meg said that you are the bi—uh—journalist in charge of writing the feature article." He winced as Jules snickered at his near slip-up. I glanced at him curiously; it wasn't like an Inheritor to try and spare my feelings. He took a deep breath before speaking again. "I know we're not friends, but I would really appreciate it if you do a good job on the article."

I held his gaze for a few seconds before nodding. "Okay."

His eyebrows shot up. "Really?"

"I'm not going to do a bad job just because Kian was a have not who got along with the haves." I began stacking my empty containers back into my lunch bag.

"You weren't jealous of Kian?" he asked curiously.

"Well," Jules cut in. "We sort of were when I had to fix my glasses with masking tape or when Reed had to wear her gym clothes for the entire day. But we got over it."

"What?" asked Liam, sounding slightly confused.

It dawned on me that he was screwing with us and only pretending to be a decent human being for the sake of getting me to cooperate. After all, he was an Inheritor who had probably learned to lie at his mother's knee. There was no way that he wasn't aware of the bullying every scholarship student had to endure.

"Wearing clothes that reek of toilet water aren't exactly my number one fashion choice," I said coolly.

"Oh that."

"Yes, that." The bell rang to signify the end of lunch hour, and I stood up. Jules followed me; the good-natured smile he had been wearing during our conversation had been replaced with a wary look—the one he wore around Inheritors. I sighed internally. We had made the mistake of relaxing around Liam. Despite his kindness, he was still made of money while we could only dream of what it would be like to be rich.

Liam hesitated as he turned to leave. "Kian used to work at Stan's Photo on the west side. Ask for Stan; he might be able to help you with your article."

I watched as he rejoined his group of friends. "Did an Inheritor just voluntarily help me?"

Jules grimaced as he sidestepped a large puddle of tomato sauce. "Hell must be very cold right now."

***

After school I took the bus to the west side of Scire. It was an older part of the town, quite close to where I lived, and I doubted that any Inheritors would even step foot in this area. I easily found Stan's Photo—a squat brick building with a heavy wooden door that was in desperate need of a new coat of paint. But when I stepped inside, the building's slightly dilapidated exterior didn't matter.

Light streamed in through the two large windows at the front of the store with several framed photographs lining the right wall. A glass case ran along the left and back wall and displayed camera bodies and lenses. The room was airy with its pale wooden floors and neutral beige walls. I liked it immediately.

I carefully weaved through the racks of camera equipment to reach the back of the store where my attention was caught by haphazard pile of photos on the counter.

Just as I leaned forward to take a closer look, a voice interrupted my snooping. "Can I help you?" asked the lean boy. He was dressed in a band t-shirt and ragged jeans. He tossed the pile of pictures into an open drawer.