Table Of ContentALL THE LITTLE LIES
S.J. SYLVIS
CONTENTS
Author’s Note
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Epilogue
Afterword
About the Author
Also by S.J. Sylvis
Stay up to date
Acknowledgments
All the Little Lies
Copyright © 2020 S.J. Sylvis
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form including electronic or mechanical, without
written permission from the publisher, except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. This work is a piece of
fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to
actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Published: S.J. Sylvis 2020
[email protected]
Cover Design: Taylor Danae Colbert
Editing: Jenn Lockwood Editing
AUTHOR’S NOTE
All the Little Lies is a full-length standalone high school bully romance intended for MATURE
readers. Please be aware that it contains triggers that some readers may find bothersome.
CHAPTER ONE
HAYLEY
I down at my hand-me-down uniform. Plaid. Blue-and-white checkered fabric skittered along
STARED
my skirt, hitting a few inches above my knees. The white stockings weren’t as white as they were
when they were first worn—I’m certain of that—but at least the worn holes were on the soles of my
feet and not running up the sides of my calves. The white dress shirt was undoubtedly supposed to fit
snug, but on my angular frame, it hung loose, making me appear childish—even more so with the girly
bow-like tie that was tied around my neck. If only it’d just strangle me all together.
The gargoyles in front of the school stared at me with demonic eyes, and I almost shivered in my
spot. I’d most definitely been in worse places, and everyone here, in all their ritzy glory, would
realize that quickly when they got one good glance at my face. On the way here, I wondered if anyone
would remember me. If they’d recognize me. If a certain somebody would recognize me. I was going
to stick out like a sore thumb with the yellowing bruise on my eye and the healing cut on my lip. But I
was a different girl now. My once glossy and long, ember-colored hair was now cut to my shoulders
and dull—as if the life was sucked out of it, too. I was skinnier now, and although I went through
puberty, my curves were almost nonexistent due to lack of nutrition. My stomach actually growled at
the thought. All I had to do was make it to lunchtime so I could eat.
And by eat, I meant steal an apple or something when no one was looking at me. It wasn’t as if Jill
or Pete were going to give me any lunch money or pack me a nice peanut butter and jelly sandwich
with a little love note in the shape of a heart that read Have a great day at school! I learned just what
kind of people they truly were with a backhand right to my face last night. Great couple. The best.
Definitely an A-plus for them as foster parents.
With a hesitant hand, I latched onto the willowy brass handle on the school’s entrance. I was
supposed to wait for Ann, my social worker, but I preferred to do this alone. If I’d learned anything in
the last few years, it was that no one was going to look out for me as much as I’d look out for myself.
Ann wasn’t going to scowl at the group of catty cheerleaders when they snickered at my unfit clothing,
and she wasn't going to stand her ground when a rich, preppy boy tried to cop a feel. It was all on
me.
If I wanted to count on anyone in this world, all I had to do was look into a mirror.
“Hayley! Wait up!” Speak of the broad herself. Ann hurried up the cobblestone steps in her
clacking heels, her auburn hair blowing in the early autumn breeze, and her coffee was literally
spilling over the edge of the Styrofoam cup. My mouth watered at the sight of it, and she must have
sensed that, because she gave me a half-smile and thrusted it in my direction.
I basked in its warmth as the creamy taste of hazelnut landed in my empty belly. I was so grateful
for the coffee I almost thanked her, but then I put up my shields and remembered that I wasn’t exactly
pleased with her. I know. Typical. Foster kid mad at their social worker. But as I glanced up at the
skyscraper-tall prep school, I got angry all over again. It had been years since I’d attended English
Prep Middle. My friends—and really, I meant Christian—had replaced me by now. We were seniors.
He probably didn’t even remember me from middle school. Not true, and you know it. I surely
remembered him. And I’d have been lying if I said there wasn’t a teeny, tiny part of me that longed for
him to welcome me with open arms.
I understood why it was crucial for me to be here at English Prep. Ann pulled some major strings,
