Bad Liar

On a cold morning like this, I am thankful for the heat penetrating from the two coffees I'm holding in each of my hands.

It is a brisk, winter morning as I walk to school, an hour earlier than everyone else. I guess I'm really lucky that my assigned counselling sessions are 7:50-8:50 am every Tuesday, giving me ten minutes' spare before classes begin.

Our school uniform is very boring - a plain white polo shirt and navy bottoms. At least in winter, you can style it a little. Today, I chose to wear a skirt, with dark stockings underneath. I have a navy coat draped around my body and a black scarf, which hugs my neck, keeping me toasty warm.

The only sounds around me are my vans hitting the concrete floor as I briskly walk towards the counsellor's office.

Due to a new suicide prevention regime, it is compulsory for each student to see one of the counsellors that the government employed at the school, at least once a week. I already was meant to have counselling, after what happened eighteen months ago, so it isn't a big deal for me.

Dr Byrnes is extremely nice. She's young - only 24. As she had been counselling me ever since that night, we had become friends. We meet up professionally, but it feels like I am confiding in a friend, not a trained counsellor. It makes things easier.

Opening the door and pushing on it with my hip, I enter her office.

"Bless you and your beautiful soul," Ashley greets me, standing, taking the coffee from my left hand.

"You're welcome," I reply, sitting down in the leather chair, holding my own cup of coffee close to my chest. "It's freezing this morning."

"Isn't it?" she agrees.

She fiddles with the air conditioning remote and soon heat is blasting out. I unwrap my scarf, laying it neatly beside me.

"So, how are you, Miss Collins?"

"I am good - great, actually," I tell her. "Mum is going well at work, Finn's grades are back up. Things are working out."

"All I'm hearing is that your family is going well," Ashley replies, going straight to the point. "What about you? What's your positive change?"

"Well, my school work is fine, my job is fine and well... I've started seeing Bentley."

"Uh-huh, I knew it!" she beams. "I saw you two leave school together the other day and I have been dying to ask!"

Definitely more my friend, than my counsellor.

"Maybe seeing is too much of a label," I say with an eye roll. "We've pretty much been hanging out but there has been a few make-out sessions."

"That's exciting! He is the first, since...?"

"Since him, yes," I reply. "There have been a few random kisses at parties, but this is the first person I've liked since the Devil left town."

She snorts. "I love your creative nicknames for him."

Him, is Miles Carter. My brother's ex-best friend and also, the boy I pretty much was in love with, all of my life.

Finn, my twin brother, always had a lot of guy friends and most of them were attractive. They were all flirty and charming, but I was used to it. They were at our house all the time and they were pretty much my friends, too. It was different with Miles, though. I had always thought he was amazing. I pretty much had a crush on him, ever since I met him, which was when we were young.

I was 16 when he began to notice me. I had always been kind of naturally pretty, I guess, but I just grew up a lot from age 14 to 16. I must have become more desirable, in his eyes.

It started with late-night conversations around the kitchen island bench, to secret hangouts at the beach, to making out in the back of his car, to him creeping into my room of a night when he was meant to be staying in the spare room.

I fell for him. Hard.

One night, after the football game, we planned to meet up. I was ready. I was going to give him a part of me that I could never take back. It was a big thing for me.

We were going to meet at the grandstand after the game. We were going to go back to his place and ditch the party. I waited one whole hour after the game, sitting in the freezing cold, waiting - hoping - he would show up.

I remember thinking, surely, he wouldn't stand me up on a night like this. Not when we were going to...

After the hour of waiting, I headed over to the party. It was only a fifteen-minute walk from the school football oval, but in the cold, it felt much longer. I was beyond pissed by the time I reached the party.

After searching for Miles everywhere, I finally found him.

In a room, with another girl.

I couldn't believe it. We weren't technically dating, but to me, we were. I felt completely heartbroken as I ran out of the house, crying, feeling like an idiot. Miles Carter was a notorious player and ladies' man. Why did I think I was any different? I was his best friend's sister, of course he wasn't going to stay with me. I'm just glad he didn't sleep with me and then do this after.

After calling my dad and asking him to come to pick me up, I planned to never speak another word to Miles Carter.

However, the night had only started. Little did I know, things were going to get much, much worse.

When my dad was driving to get me, he had a head-on collision with a semi-truck.

He was killed instantly.

At this point, I still don't know who I blame more - myself for making the call, or Miles, for being the one to put me in that position.

Dad wasn't meant to be picking me up. He wasn't meant to be in the car that night.

But he was and now he's gone.

After crying hysterically in the hospital, I made the mistake of telling my mother about Miles and what had happened. I didn't realise Finn had entered the room.

With eyes blazing, fists clenched, Finn left the hospital and went back to the party.

Now, I wasn't there and I have heard countless different rumours of what happened next, but all I know is that the next time I saw Miles Carter, was when he was lying on a hospital bed. Finn had beat him senseless. I hardly recognised the boy that was lying there - his face a mess of black, blue and red.

After a week of trying to contact us and showing up at our house after he had recovered, Miles realised we wanted nothing to do with him. So, he packed up his bags and left. He had been living with his dad. He moved in with his mum and we haven't heard or seen him since.

We both changed our numbers and removed him from social media, so that could be why.

Miles Carter was dead to us.

"Issy?" Ashley asked softly. "You okay? You've gone quiet."

I reel back into the chair, blinking back to reality. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking about him and that night."

"Where's your head at?" she asks, leaning onto the desk. "I know you were absolutely devastated, then you were very angry about it all and now... what are you?"

I let out a sigh. "Still both, I guess. I just try not to think about him or that night ever. At home, we never speak about him. My friends never speak about him. It's only if it comes up here, which is fine with me. I don't like thinking about him and me and..." I let out another sigh. "Can we change the topic?"

"Of course," she smiles. "So, are you and Bentley going on a date soon?"

Preston Bentley was pretty much a clone of Miles Carter. I knew it but I was still drawn to him, anyway. You'd think I'd have learnt my lesson. He's a friend of my brother, a footballer and extremely easy on the eyes. I know he's dated a few girls at school but I don't care, he seems really sweet and he has been nothing but nice.

I'm over being the girl who is heartbroken over a guy who didn't care for her.

"I'm not sure. Most of our hangouts are pretty spontaneous. I'm trying not to get too attached to him, in case it doesn't work out."

"Probably a smart decision. Finn would also kick his ass - I mean butt - if he hurt you. Everyone knows how protective he is of you."

I think even Ashley forgets she is meant to be my counsellor at times.

"I know," I groan. "After the Miles incident, no boy wanted to even look at me. He's been one of the only boys to approach me, after everything. I guess it has been about a year and a half now."

"I think it's good that you're seeing him. I'm excited for where it's going to go," she says to me with a smile. "Is there anything else on your mind that you want to talk about?"

"Umm..." I run my finger over the lines of the coffee cup as I try to think of something I have been worried about. "Not really. School is kind of stressful with homework and assignments, but life is going okay. I think everything seems good now because it was just so hard after dad died. But things are getting better and I'm happy."

"That's great to hear, Is."

It has only been half an hour and I was meant to have an hour session, but when I don't really have much to talk about, Ashley lets me out early. I was in a dark place after Miles left and dad died - but I'm doing much better now. If I'm ever struggling with anything, Ashley is the first person I tell and she trusts me to do just that.

"Do you want to discuss anything?" I ask her with a grin.

"Now, now, I'm the counsellor Missy. I'm here for you."

"Well, know that I'm here for you, as well," I tell her.

"Thank you, Issy. You're right to head off if you want."

"Okay, have a good day, Dr Byrnes," I tease, getting to my feet.

"You too, Miss Collins. And thanks for the coffee!"

I give her a thumbs up, before exiting the room.

This time, when I walk towards the lockers, there are students milling everywhere. I throw out my coffee cup and head towards my locker, grabbing my History textbook out. After getting what I need and shutting the door, I lean against it and stare at the vacant locker, across from me.

Ever since Miles left, the locker had never been used. I guess we just haven't had that many new students. It still has MILES etched into the metal.

"Good morning, the ugly twin," my brother's voice suddenly booms and I instantly roll my eyes, dragging my eyes away from the locker.

"Good morning to you, too, you old hag."

His mouth falls open as he places a hand on his chest. "Yes, I am the older, much wiser twin, but hag? Definitely not."

"Keep telling yourself that," I tease.

I don't miss him glance towards Miles locker. He must have seen me staring.

"How was therapy?"

"It's not therapy," I whine for the thousandth time. "Therapy sounds far too formal. It's more like a coffee date."

"I wish I got the hot, young counsellor. Why did I have to get the wrinkly, old man? I might make more progress if I get the hot, 24-year-old, eh?" he grins, nudging me.

I roll my eyes, again. "You're gross and Ashley would not fall for your so-called charm."

"Ashley is a hot name," he smirks, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Like always, your obsession with females is our main focal point of conversation."

"Can't help it, I'm a ladies' man, what can I say?" he quirks his dark eyebrow. "Speaking of, where's that sexy best friend of yours?"

"Please don't harass my friends. They have already fallen for your charm and I will have to hear about how hot you are, blah, blah and you just encourage them." I sigh.

"Speak of the devil," he grins triumphantly as my best friend, Samara, strides up to us, her dark, red hair spilling down her shoulders in waves.

"Hi best friend and best friend's hot brother," she smirks and I meet eyes with Finn, to see him grinning widely.

"Hi sister's hot best friend."

"Stop," I gag.

They both laugh, only doing it to annoy me.

"I'll leave you two ladies to it," he says. "Oh and Samara, call me sometime."

I flip him off as he laughs, walking away.

"He is way too hot for his own good," she sighs, pouting.

"If you think he's hot, does that mean you think I'm hot too?" I question.

Finn and I are very alike. We both have a pale complexion, which darkens only throughout summer, and dark, brunette hair. We both have round green eyes and high cheekbones, just like our mum. The main difference between us is that Finn is about a head taller than me. So many people always say; "Aren't you twins? Why are you different heights?" I googled it, even identical twins can have different heights. It's just how your genes work out, I suppose.

"I'd do you if you were a guy," she nods and I snort with laughter.

"Thanks."

After grabbing her own History book, we slowly began to walk outside, planning to soak up a few moments of the sunshine, before being ushered inside.

My best friend is gorgeous. She has porcelain white skin, dark, brown eyes and bright, red hair, that trails down her back, resting at her elbows. The sun lights her vibrant hair and I stare in envy at her long locks.

"How was therapy?" she asks.

"For the love of God," I groan. "You and my brother are too alike."

She snickers. "He texted me, telling me to say that."

"He would."

The bell rings loudly overhead and we exchange a look of dread, before dragging our feet towards the History building. I go over to my usual table by the window, plopping down ungracefully.

"Tally ready?" she asks me, holding up her pen.

"Ready."

Mr Edgington says the word umm excessively. We have begun to count how many times he says it throughout one lesson. We had a double of History last week and counted 54 times.

About halfway through the lesson, I abandon the tallying and begin to gaze out the window, bored out of my mind. I used to semi-enjoy History until Mrs Cloud moved away and was replaced with this boring and kind-of-terrible teacher, instead. I don't know if it's the way he teaches or if we've just moved into a dry topic, but for some reason, I really despise the class now.

Samara, too, abandoned the tallying and began texting on her phone. I raise my hand and ask to go to the bathroom, just to have something to do.

I walk slowly to the bathroom and stand there, looking at my reflection in the sad excuse for a mirror. My dark hair is pulled into a neat braid down the side of my face. My cheeks are rosy from wearing my jacket and having the heat on in the classroom. I make my way to my locker, planning to ditch my scarf when I freeze.

There is a boy standing there, his head inside Miles' locker. I gulp, feeling weirdly anxious.

That is so weird that I had thought only this morning that no one else had used that locker since he left. Shaking my head, I continue walking towards my locker, trying not to stare.

Twisting the lock, I throw my scarf into the tiny locker, just as I hear my name be called.

"Issy?"

I knew that voice.

I felt the blood inside my veins turn cold. Goosebumps erupt on my skin at the sound of it.

Holy…

He's back.