Welcome to Lemoine High, where anything can happen...
There's something strange about the town of Splinter Bridge. The popular kids, 'The Group', can ride their motorbikes down the school hallway, set fire to the school bathroom, or set their pets loose in the halls. Yet they never receive so much as a detention. Newcomer Lila Dilahunt finds herself transfixed, burning with curiosity to find out how they have the whole town wrapped around their pinkies. Especially the moody Denny, who suffers from a past so haunted, it cuts her to her very core.
But the further she becomes ensnared in their company, the more she realizes that she can't come out unscathed. There's a dark side to the group. They're lying, scheming, and occasionally cruel to the core.
Welcome to Lemoine High, where anything can happen...
There's something strange about the town of Splinter Bridge. The popular kids, 'The Group', can ride their motorbikes down the school hallway, set fire to the school bathroom, or set their pets loose in the halls. Yet they never receive so much as a detention. Newcomer Lila Dilahunt finds herself transfixed, burning with curiosity to find out how they have the whole town wrapped around their pinkies. Especially the moody Denny, who suffers from a past so haunted, it cuts her to her very core.
But the further she becomes ensnared in their company, the more she realizes that she can't come out unscathed. There's a dark side to the group. They're lying, scheming, and occasionally cruel to the core.
         âI could just kill that girl!â Sue grumbled as she passed me in a constant parade of footsteps.
         I tried to ignore my boss. Her tirade didnât hold a candle to the angsty emotions zinging across the back of my mind, or the sensation that my insides were being curdled in an acid-bath of frustration. It took all my effort to push the thoughts away. Angst only brought about mental tiradesâones that could make me lose my job if I acted on them. And I needed this job.
         Bags of chips crinkled under my fingers as I set them deftly onto the shelf in perfect parallel lines. The conformity was having a soothing effect on me. It reminded me of my mother before she had died. Everything in the house had a perfect place. Even the pantry had been stocked in perfect lines like a store shelf.
         âLila!â a hissing voice vied for my attention now that Sue had disappeared from view.
         My eyes momentarily diverted to the blonde girl behind the counter. Girls like this one usually had an intimidating effect on me. You know the ones; the kind that are so beautiful that everyone does a doubletake, and straight girls momentarily question their orientation when they realize they just checked her out. Beautiful and popular people typically made me stutter. Rather than finding myself attracted to their beauty, I was often overwhelmed by it, socially clamming up. Throughout my life, people like that had merely ignored me or looked down their noses at me.
But the girlâ"my name is Eva Herzberg,â she had told meâwas full of chatter and friendly compliments since the moment I had walked into my new job.
         Small towns were the strangest things. Maybe they just had a smaller social pool, so being socially picky wasnât an option. I couldnât think of another reason a girl like Eva would deign to socialize with me. Not that I was a dog, or a social pariah, or anything. I was just shyâand cute in a little and pinchable cheeks kind of way. Oh, how I hated the word cute; it had been my personal bane since my elementary years.
Eva lifted two bottles of nail polish and shook their contents with her well-manicured fingers. She asked, âWhich color?â
         Ignoring the urge to clam up, I lifted my finger to point to the pastel blue. âIt will match your outfit.â
         The whole day, Eva had been regaling me with her antics to attract a recently returned college student named Steve. She had even purchased a Corvette to appeal to his love of all things sleek and fast. Mommy and Daddy Herzberg must have been rolling in the dough because what high school senior could have afforded such a purchase?
She nodded in agreement with my color choice, enfolding the mini glass bottle in her fist just as a customer blocked her view. The older gentleman gazed expectantly, his arms jammed with merchandise even though small rolling carts were offered at the front entrance.
I returned my attention to the end display, emptying the contents onto the shelf.
Sue Cortina rushed by me again in a blur of movement, running an agitated hand through her red hair. Her voice floated to me as she passed, âLila, have you seen Julie? I swear, that girl will make me go gray.â
What, Miss Klepto? I thought with a mental eye roll. Julie had dipped her fingers in the till about fifteen minutes ago, and some bills had entered her pocket. And it was just my suspicion, but I was pretty sure she had snuck off to the liquor store down the street, stuffing a package of Doritos in her purse as she exited Mr. Splinterâs Mart. Inventory must be a bitch.
My response was simply, âSorry, I havenât.â
I was glad I hadnât seen where she went. No wage would have sufficed to keep tabs on Sueâs daughter. Not even a half-hour into the shift, the mother and daughter duo had engaged in an all-out shouting match over a Ziploc bag hidden in the backroom. It contained some sort of powder. Having little knowledge of any drugs beyond your typical, garden variety high-school-locker-room fare, I couldnât provide any guesses as to the contents.
Customers had popped their heads up at the first barrage of flying insults. Some held curious eyes for juicy gossip while others donned scornful gazes that slid austerely down their noses.
         Splinter Bridge was a small town where news traveled lightning-fastâalmost a hamlet, really. When my father had driven us here, the exit nearly spun by as quickly as the passing scenery, barely a few homes visible from the secondary highway. The town was simply a blip on the map.
But houses were cheap. And really, thatâs what dad cared about. After he had squandered our savingsâincluding the college fund he and mom had meticulously saved for meâa small-town property was all we could afford.
Splinter Bridge was a weird place. It was almost a retirement community. The homes, far from cookie cutter, shared only their aging, preserved wood foundations, and peeling paint. Half the townsfolk still hung clothes to dry off their front porches. Hadnât they heard of a dryer?
         Sueâs feet pattered toward me again, my mind nudging back to the present moment as a breeze followed in her wake. She muttered, âThat girl is out of control. Ever since her sister diedâŚâ
I folded the empty cardboard box and dumped it into the trash bin.
Sue passed me again, a whir of red hair.
âLila, could you help that customer when he finishes paying? I donât have the time right now.â Her voice floated off into the back room.
The constant patter of footsteps was making me dizzy. Sue was a busy woman; she almost never stopped movingâor talking. It was hard for anyone else to throw a word in edgewise.
I lifted my chin to regard the customer Sue had indicated. He was a boy about my age with a shock of dark hair and skin that held the earthy glow of someone who spends hours outdoors.
His back faced me as he handed Eva a bottle of coolant. My eyes dropped to the fringes of his well-pressed jeans. They were in tatters along the hemline where they grazed the floor. The rest of his outfit fared better. His black shirt covered the upper half of his compactly muscled forearms.
Eva leaned across the till with a conspiratorial smile, and she whispered something in the boyâs ear. He moved his head in a minute nod at her words. Then she took his money, placing it in the till. The boy grabbed his bags with a puzzled look, his green eyes scanning the store aisles. He was looking for Sue, I realized.
Great, I thought with a sigh, another popular groupie to play havoc on my shy meter. Just what I needed. I assumed a hesitant smile as I approached, unable to quiet the nervous fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. Clearing my throat, I mentioned, âUmâŚSue asked me to help you.â
The boyâs gaze dropped briefly to my shorter frame. An almost dismissive glance and a quick nod later, he jutted his chin toward the outer door. âCome on.â
Mentally, I groaned. But my feet picked up a robotic rhythm behind him.
The outside air hit me like an undulating wall of heat as I followed in pursuit of his tattered hems. Gasoline and cigarette smoke smarted my nostrils, and the sun bore down, bathing my bare legs.
Shorts, in my opinion, were the only acceptable attire for the last few days of summer, and I wore them proudly even though Sueâs first comment had been, âarenât those a little short for work standards?â
The job didnât mean enough to me to endure the swelter fully clothed, so I had simply shrugged. Luckily, Sue had left the matter well enough alone after that. Because, truly, I did need to keep this job for another month at least. Without employment, my planned getaway would simply fall flat.
For a moment, I lost sight of the boy as a figure entered my line of sight. Julie leaned her tall, willowy shape against the glass window next to the door. Reddish-brown hair fell about her shoulders as she lifted her fingers to inhale on her cigarette. The end lit up like a red-hot coal.
She regarded me disdainfully. The glance seemed to throw her peppering of freckles into sharp display. âYou friends with Piss Face?â
Chapter 2
Julieâs words jarred me like sandpaper running across my skin. Calling anyone âa piss faceâ so flippantly felt harshâpitiless.
My mouth paused on an inhale just as I was about to ask who she was referring to, but then I clamped it shut. I couldnât be bothered. Instead, I said, âYour mother is looking for you.â
Julie snorted, âTell her to piss off.â
Pivoting away, I shrugged. âMessenger is not in my job description.â
Julie chuckled, finding some amusement in my reply.
âYou donât want to make friends with Eva,â she called to my retreating back.
âDonât I?â I murmured distractedly.
âSheâs a backstabber,â she warned.
Julieâs advice was about as useful to me as an old and faded newspaper. She didnât appear to be the brightest rock in the collection. Throwing the bizarre conversation from my mind, I scanned the gas bar for the guy who had disappeared. There he was, I noted, compact form leaned over a motorcycle next to the whitewashed exterior wall. He examined it with patient determination.
As I moved to join him, the store bell rang behind me, signaling someoneâs exit.
âJulie!â Sueâs frantic voice floated behind me. âHow many times have I told you not to smoke in the gas bar? Youâre going to blow yourself, and this business, to kingdom come one of these days!â
âDonât have a hernia!â the indignant reply rang out.
After a few more footsteps, their argument became an indistinct buzz in the background.
The boy turned to regard me with an exasperated expression. Dismissiveness was now replaced by scolding, âDawdle much?â
Annoyance overrode all my earlier shyness in a quick flash. Against my better judgmentâSue would throw a fit if she found outâI began to pivot away. I threw out the parting retort, âHave fun fixing your issueâalone.â
A hand latched around my wrist in protest, tugging me back.
âCome on,â the boy said with a glint of light teasing in his green eyes. âIâm just messing with you. Please? Help me?â
I rolled my eyes, deflating immediately.
He smirked. âNot funny, eh?â
âSo,â an involuntary smile tugged at the corner of my lips. His eyes seemed to light up with the movement. âWhat do you need help with?â
âYou see that kickstand right there?â He pointed downward with a sudden air of business. âI just want you to brace it. Itâs loose. Neither of us will be happy if this hunk of metal falls on us.â
Nodding, I kneeled into the gritty asphalt, shoulders hunched, and winced as miniature pebbles dug into my kneecaps. In a mockup of his banter, I shot the boy a reproachful glance and pointed at my knees. âLook what I do for you.â
He balked in a manner so animated, it was obvious he was trying to bait me. âAre you copying my humor?â
âImitation is the sincerest form of flattery,â I quipped before I could stop myself, my cheeks instantly heating with the cheesy comment. Nervous laughter tumbled through my lips.
He smiled tolerantly, head ducking, and said, âJust a second.â Rummaging through a compartment on the motorcycle, his hand came free with a ratty shirt covered in oil stains. He tossed it to me. âFor your knees.â
I caught it, nose wrinkling immediately. The material smelled faintly of old car fluids and sweat. If the essence of the typical male could be bottled into a cologne, this would be it. âEau de Male,â I muttered under my breathânot quietly enough, though, as he suddenly flinched.
âAnd youâd prefer road burn,â he returned. His words betrayed a sharp edge. It took me a moment to notice that his cheeks were tinged in pink under his tan.
The color of my cheeks quickly matched his when I realized that I had accidentally thrown a barb at his ego.
âNope, Iâll take Eau de Male over roadkill anytime,â I mumbled in a quick save. I slipped the soft material under my knees with a thumbs-up sign.
Belatedly, my cheeks darkened further as it hit me; Iâd used the word roadkill when I intended road burn. Judging by the way his stiff shoulders suddenly relaxed and the twinkle in his eyes, he had caught my blunder.
Leaning forward to hide my embarrassment, I cupped the sides of the metal kickstand and braced it. The action didnât save me from a quick peek at the teasing quirk of his mouth. His expression burned onto the backs of my eyelids, mocking me when I blinked.
âThatâs supposed to be a compliment?â he chuckled.
âOh, shush!â I retorted lamely.
âNo, really!â The boy smirked. âIf you consider men to smell just a touch better than roadkillââ
         âGod!â I groaned, shooting him a reproachful look. âI didnât mean to say that!â
The boy took pity on me and assumed an âall work, no play expressionâ. He pulled a pan from one of the bags and placed it under the motorcycle. Deftly, he unscrewed something, and a gush of dirty liquid fell into the pan. An unpleasant odor hit my nostrils as the liquid rushed out. It was faintly mitigated by the boyâs pleasantly soapy smell.
He seemed to be in his element with the bike.
âSo, whatâs your story? You new?â he asked, making conversation to clear the awkwardness that still hung between us as he peered under the motorcycle and re-screwed the cap.
âJust temporarily,â I rambled. âI wonât be here for long.â
What if he was friends with Sue? The concerning thought hit me belatedly and I mentally winced. Sue would not have hired me if she knew I was planning on taking the first bus out of townâwell, the first that I could afford.
âThatâs a shame,â he returned, conversationally. The comment was made offhandedly, emotionlessly. Getting to his feet in one swift, businesslike movement, he unscrewed a cap and located a jug of coolant in one of the bags, and began to pour it in the opening slowly. âWe could really use some fresh faces around here. There hasnât been a new kid at school in years.â
âIâll be thereâŚtomorrow,â I supplied, my words weirdly animated. Tomorrow was the day classes resumed after the summer break. âIâve already applied.â
âI thought you were leaving,â he points out.
âI amâŚin a month. I want to go home, but in the meantimeâŚâ My eyes darted off.
The openness I showed him surprised even me. Lately, Iâd been more guarded about my private life. Especially the embarrassing secrets I kept about my father. My lips snapped into a tight line.
âMaybe just as well. This town can be a shitshow sometimes,â he continued, not looking at me. âWhere you from?â
âEdmonton,â I returned. The motorcycle shuddered and I locked my elbows.
After living in the city with big city life, this town was the last place I wanted to be. Especially considering that I had to share this experience with a father who returned home inebriated more nights than soberâif he showed at all.
I flipped the questions around to prevent any further personal disclosures. âWhat about you?â
âSmall town guy,â he returned, setting the empty jug of coolant aside. âMy parents own some farmland just out of town.â
His long fingers entered my line of vision and covered mine for the briefest second as I attempted to remove my hands. âJust hold there for one more moment. What? You late for lunch or something? I want to tighten the bolts.â
Normally, his words would have incited my annoyance, but the way his lip quivered with pent-up laughter immediately lowered my hackles. He was only joking. Rolling my eyes, I complied.
He moved to either side of the kickstand, twisting a tool with the precise movement of his arm. He shifted his gaze to me in a sidelong glance as he did so, musing. A smile played along his lips. âOr maybe sheâs late for a hot date.â
âThis she you speak of is present and has a name,â I parried. There was no way I would admit to this fun and popular guy that Iâd never had a hot date in my lifeâthat guys barely noticed me back home. He socialized with the Eva Herzbergâs of Splinter Bridge and probably had a string of past girlfriends longer than my social media friendâs list. I felt childish and invisible in comparison to his elevated status.
âDuly noted.â He got his feet, cleaning his soiled fingers on a dirty rag. He reached out to help me to my feet. I grasped the shirt with my free hand and passed it to him once my head reached his chest level.
I was a petite girl, measuring only about an inch or two over five feet. Most people tended to tower over me, and this boy was no exception to the rule.
âMy nameâs Denny, by the way,â he said, his hand shooting into my line of sight.
âThatâs a name I havenât heard recently,â I mused as I grasped his offered hand and shook it pensively.
âIt was my grandfatherâs name,â he responded.
I looked up to see him smiling at me hesitantly, almost expectantly. After that fraction of a second, I realized that he was still waiting. I cursed my ADD as the seconds stretched on and I finally answered, âOh! Iâm Lila.â
His lip quirked as he mused, eyes teasing. âLost in thought.â He spoke as though chronicling a biography. âLila Miller canât seem to get her mind off her hot date.â
âDilagall,â I corrected, realizing belatedly that heâd tricked me into providing my full name.
âLila Dilagall,â Denny responded, directing his next comment at me. âSo, who is this person?â he teased, and added, âThis hot date?â
âThatâs for me to know,â I returned, suddenly hit by an unexplainable bolt of nervous energy as our eyes met, âAnd you not to.â
âSnap,â he returned with feigned disappointment.
I started walking backward with a friendly parting smile. Knowing a few faces at the school would make the last month I had in Splinter Bridge bearable.
âSee you at school,â I said with a shy wave.
A dark look crossed his face at the mention of school, but it was fleeting. His hand raised in return, fingers fluttering in a farewell gesture.
I hurried back into the convenience store, met by a frazzled Sue. She handed me a broom. I got to work, barely noticing that the sun had dipped below the horizon until the windows outside the store displayed only the black night sky and a lit gas bar.
My stomach rumbled as I moved toward the backroom to take my supper break. My lunch kit was tucked into one of the cubby holes along the far wall. Within it, I retrieved a slice of bread and chewed it thoughtfully. It was the only food that I had been able to locate in the barren cupboards at home.
Taking a seat behind Sueâs desk, my eyes drew to the phone sitting innocuously on the desk. With a quick decision, my hand darted to the receiver, and I dialed a number that I knew by heart. The phone rang several times. Seconds before I would have hung up a confused voice returned with, âHello?â
Welcome to Splinter Bridge, where "The Group" not only runs the school but the entire town.
Secrets took me by surprise in an absolutely fantastic way. I relished the inability to pinpoint exactly what was happening and this uncertainty kept me on the edge of my seat until the very last page.
Secrets starts off as a high school tween drama with the typical shy, quiet, reserved new girl (Lila) who just wants to fit in. As the story develops and we see Lila in a different light, struggling to break free from her alcoholic father and his mercurial moods I was utterly engrossed. While Lila's inner monologue was true to her age, I actually did not mind this at all as it leaned itself to a simplistic overview of life (popularity, boys, family troubles) which the book is heavily focused on.
There is a thick veil of secrecy surrounding the popular kid's AKA The Group that I simply could not put my finger on. The connection between Denny and Lila was utterly explosive and was such a fantastic slow burn that I completely overlooked the cliche, "everyone warns her away from him but she can't help but be drawn to him" scenario that plays out.
There is no denying the oddity that is Splinter Bridge but the one question I bet readers everywhere will have is, "What makes this group of teens above the law?" To be quite honest, at the end of this book I myself can't quite articulate the answer based on the scraps the author has teased me with but I can say that I am ferociously hungry for more.
I love when authors play with my emotions and Rebecca E. Parks plays me like a fiddle, gently stroking my strings with vague pieces of a complex puzzle as she skirts around the truth behind the secrets. There are a lot of unknowns left to be explored in Splinter Bridge and I am equal parts excited and afraid for what's in store for The Group and Lila.
Thank you to Reedsy Discovery for providing me with an arc in exchange for an honest review.