Tomorrow's Lies (Promises #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

all the rolling fields where I suppose the cattle used to roam. There’s another barn way off in the distance, a ramshackle structure of brown lumber that looks dark and wet. Beyond the fields there appears to be nothing but endless acres of thick forest.
    A chill runs up my spine. Not from fright, but from worry. Forget the high entrance gates and the wire fencing. This place is a natural fortress. The high-up-on-the-hill location plus the miles of wooded land practically guarantees there will be no easy way out.
    It’s all a little too claustrophobic, and I tell Saundra, “I don’t think I’m ready to go in the house just yet.”
    I’d feel better if I could see the other kids. This place feels too disconnected from the town below. Not that Forsaken is much better, but there’s more than one way in. And more than one way out.
    “No problem.” Saundra reaches over to pat my knee, but then thinks better of it. “Stay in the car as long as you like. I’ll go on ahead and talk with Lo… I mean Mrs. Lowry. Come on in whenever you’re ready. Or, if you prefer, I can come back out for you?”
    “That’s okay. I’ll come in on my own when I’m ready.”
    “Okay, honey.”
    After she’s gone, I return to my perusal of what will be home for the next seven months. Again, it doesn’t look bad aesthetically, but I keep reminding myself appearances can be deceiving.
    “Eighteen,” I murmur. “Eighteen and you are so out of here.”
    From the corner of my eye, I suddenly detect movement over at the pole barn. The doors are sliding open, I suppose since the rain has stopped. Opening doors mean one thing, someone is inside. One or more of my new foster siblings? Probably.
    A mix of fear and hope leaves me shaky. Too many raindrops have gathered on the tinted passenger window, casting my view in blurry tones of surreal blue. I roll it down. I need for this to be straight-up real.
    It’s bright inside the pole barn, a contrast to the dreary day. There are long rows of tables that seem to extend all the way to the back. Most of the surfaces, at least the ones I can see, appear to be covered in crafts and craft materials. Two kids, a little boy and little girl, both quite pale and very similar in appearance—the twins, I assume—are working diligently at a table right by the entrance.
    As I continue to watch, another person comes into view. The older girl, the one who’s my age. She leans over the table to help the twins with something. The girl looks a bit like me, auburn hair, fair skin, but even bent over as she is I can tell she’s taller than me. And, whoa, definitely way skinnier.
    So here they are, three of my four new foster siblings, smack dab in front of me. I watch them closely, looking for signs of friendliness. God, I hope they accept me. There seems to be closeness among them which calls to my need to connect with someone. I’m tired of feeling so alone all the time. Watching the interactions of the girl and the twins, even viewed from afar, I get the sense they care for one another.
    The little boy—skinny as can be and with a mess of black hair in dire need of a trim—peers up at the older girl with affection when she begins to help him with a craft. Auburn-haired Girl hands the little boy a seashell that’s as big as his hand. He sets it down on the table—awkwardly since it’s so large for his hands—and mouths a thank you . He then proceeds to paint something on the side of the shell, using a long, slender brush. When the older girl pats him on his shoulder approvingly, he beams up at her.
    The girl twin then starts to tug on the older girl’s jade green sweater. Little Girl looks so much like her twin. She is tiny and slender, and has the same raven-colored hair as her brother.
    I have a good feeling about these three, but I’m still apprehensive. Where is the fourth foster kid, the guy my age? He must be around here somewhere.
    Just then, like serendipity is at work, a plume of