Page 3 of The Summer We Lie

Chapter Two

Five months later

Skye

"Honey, I'm home!" Harper's voice rings through our apartment as the front door slams shut.

I've lived with her in this place her dad pays for since we started college last fall—second semester now—and that is before everything went to hell. I'm even more grateful that her dad covers the rent and I get to stay here free, because I'm too broke to afford this place now that my dad took off months ago and refuses to help out. He's a piece of shit. I can't believe it has taken me so long to see that.

"In my room!" I call back, not looking up from my laptop screen where notes for my art history final blur together.

"Hey, hot stuff," Harper says, bouncing into my room with that infectious energy she always carries.

"Shut up." I grab the nearest pillow and hurl it at her. "I look like shit."

And I do. Sweatpants that have seen better days, an oversized hoodie with paint stains, and my hair twisted into a disaster of a bun on top of my head. I haven't even showered today—too busy cramming for finals.

"Yeah, you look like shit," Harper agrees, which is why I love her. No sugar-coating, just brutal honesty delivered with a grin. "Have you showered?" She comes closer, actually sniffing the air around me.

"No," I say matter-of-factly, "I haven't. You want a better whiff?" I lift up my arm threateningly.

"Eww, no!" She jumps back, laughing. "I just wanted to see if you wanted to grab dinner, but you're not fit to leave the apartment. So I can order us something instead."

"Feed me." I slam my laptop shut, officially giving up on Baroque art movements for the night.

"I will if you shower," she says, crossing her arms.

"Do I have to, Mom?" I whine, flopping back on my bed dramatically.

"Yes," she says firmly, "and I'll order Chinese."

"Deal." Chinese food is worth basic hygiene. "Oh, and Mom wants you to come to dinner tomorrow. She said she's making lasagna for you."

"Aww," Harper's face lights up with genuine warmth. "Of course I'll come. How's she been doing?"

"Better, I guess." I pick at the frayed edge of my hoodie sleeve. "She said they'd been having problems for a long time and she suspected it, but..."

"It still hurts," Harper finishes for me, settling on the edge of my bed.

"Yeah." The word comes out heavier than I mean it to. "And the fact that he ran off and isn't helping financially, I think that's the worst part."

Not the abandonment—though that sucks. Not even the betrayal of watching him choose his secretary over our family. It's the deliberate cruelty of cutting us off completely, leaving Mom to figure out how to pay the mortgage and Justin's therapy appointments and everything else on a teacher's salary.

"She needs a good lawyer," Harper says. "Do you want me to ask my mom or dad for a recommendation?"

"No." I shake my head quickly. "She can't afford a lawyer."

"I need to finish this semester and I'll do more private shows to help out," I say, pulling clean underwear from my dresser drawer. The cam work isn't exactly my dream career, but it pays better than any part-time job I could get as a college student.

"Oh shit, I saw something today that could help you," Harper says, her voice taking on that excited tone that usually means trouble.

"What?" I turn to face her, clutching my clothes to my chest. "I'll try almost anything at this point. Mom can barely afford everything and she's worried they're going to kick Justin out of his private school because she's behind on payments."

That's the part that kills me. Justin needs that school. The teachers there understand autism, have programs specifically designed for kids like him. Public school would be a nightmare for him—too loud, too chaotic, too much.

"Well, I'm glad you have an open mind," Harper says, and that smile spreading across her face makes my stomach drop.

"Harper..."