Chapter One

Maya

May 2023

A blur of lights and guests streak past as i spin my five-­year-­old daughter through the cool night air. Dani giggles, smiling with pure childlike joy as golden-­brown curls bounce off her flushed cheeks. I hope she never loses this feeling of wonder. I don’t want her to know about the bad things in the world—­the bad ­people. The band switches to Rihanna’s “Umbrella” and all around us, alumni dance faster to the beat—old friends and classmates whom I haven’t seen in years, their faces now only vaguely familiar. Every May, in the days leading up to commencement, alumni return for Princeton Reunions, where, in over a dozen tents, they host parties all over campus. We bring our partners and kids to show them this place that made such an impression on our lives . . . It’s also an excuse to show them off to each other.

I wonder if my old classmates recognize me now with my proud mane of curls, so different than the flat-­ironed hair I’d hidden beneath in college. It took me far too long to embrace my unique set of features, and now that I’m a mother, I want to set a good example for my daughter.

“All right, Dani, Mama’s arms need a break.” Shoulders burning, I set her down and she runs off, disappearing into the crowd. My heart flutters when I lose sight of her, but moments later, she reappears next to Daisy’s daughter, Susie, and I find my breath again.

I have to admit, I’m not at my best tonight. It never feels good when my sister and I argue. Naomi is the only family I have left aside from my husband and daughter, and it’s usually my fault when there’s an issue between us.

But coming back here always sets me on edge. This place brings with it so many memories, and not all of them are good.

Still, Naomi is graduating in a few days, so I need to pull myself together and try to have a good time for her sake.

Speaking of that, where is my sister? She was supposed to be here hours ago.

I’m checking my phone to see if Naomi has called when an alert from campus safety pops onto the screen: Washington Road Bridge and the Lake Carnegie towpath are closed due to police activity. Please use alternative routes. And then my phone dies. Great. Now it’ll be impossible to get hold of her. Why didn’t I charge it earlier? Why couldn’t Naomi be on time for once?

“Having fun?” Daisy asks, making her way over.

Daisy looks effortlessly beautiful even after several hours of dancing, wearing her signature pearls and an orange linen dress, copper-­brown waves perfectly falling around flushed cheeks. She’s my best friend and one of the kindest people I know, and after what we’ve been through, she’s basically family.

I sigh. “Naomi isn’t answering, and now my phone’s dead.”

Daisy gives me a sympathetic frown. “She still upset?”

I shrug. My sister hasn’t returned my calls or texts all day, probably because I hung up on her when we spoke yesterday morning.

It wasn’t my best moment, but we had plans to spend time together on Friday. I was looking forward to seeing her. Nate and I had even booked the hotel room an extra night just so I could spend time with her, and it wasn’t cheap. So when Naomi said something came up last minute and she’d see us Saturday instead, the anger rushed up, and I couldn’t stop it: Fine, I guess I shouldn’t miss work, then.

She began saying something, but I’d already ended the call.

I sigh and close my eyes. All I want is for her to be happy, but sometimes I feel like the more I try to connect with her, the more she pushes me away.

“She’s probably out with her Sterling friends or getting drunk with some new boyfriend,” Daisy says, and when I flinch at the thought, she adds, “Oh, come on, relax! I’m sure she’ll be here soon.”

I take a deep breath and return her smile, pushing away any doubt. One more day. One more day, and she’ll be done with this place. We just have to make it one more day.

I’m searching for my husband when something on the other side of the crowd makes me freeze. The profile of a face, one that looks the same as it did ten years ago: porcelain skin, high cheekbones, long red hair . . . 

But it can’t be her.

And yet the way she’s leaning into one hip, quietly observing the crowd, the black jeans and the Doc Martens . . . it looks just like—­

At that moment, she turns, and I step back. It’s not her, it’s just another student. Probably someone who’s graduating with Naomi. My heart falters and my body slackens with relief.

I exhale. Breathe. Maybe it’s time to cut myself off.

I’m turning to look for my daughter when a loud bang rips through the air like an explosion, and my heart leaps to my throat.

“Fireworks!” Dani screams, rushing past. She grabs Susie’s hand and scampers out for a better look, holding her tiger ears in place on her head. I press a hand to my chest as people around me cheer, my heart kicking against my ribs. Relax. Everything’s fine. Dani is safe. You’re safe. Everyone is safe. Naomi will be here soon.

Outside the tent, vibrant bursts of light and color fill the night sky. I’m gazing up at the fireworks, finally able to appreciate the grandness of it all, when I hear Daisy say my name.

“Maya?” Her voice is strange, and when I turn, she’s lowering her phone slowly from her ear. One glance at her face and I know something is wrong.

“What is it? What’s going on?” I ask as I walk toward her, the boom and fizz of the fireworks suddenly deafening in my ears.

Daisy’s hand covers her mouth as she stares at the phone in her hand. Her face is pale. “Margaret called.” Daisy is never one to scare easily, and the fear in her eyes as she looks up at me sends a chill down my spine.

“What is it?” I ask again, more urgently. Margaret is Naomi’s guardian, a no-­nonsense Englishwoman to whom I’ve grown close over the years. I talked to her this morning. She knows we’re here. Why would she be calling this late? What could be so important that she called Daisy when she couldn’t reach me?

Daisy grabs my arm and pulls me away from the crowd. Her breathing is uneven, and she’s on the verge of tears.

I glance back, keeping an eye on our girls as panic flares across my chest. Something is definitely wrong.

“It’s Naomi,” Daisy says in a choked whisper. “She’s—­” She can’t seem to get out the rest.

“What about Naomi?” Is she sick? Hurt?

“Oh, Maya, I’m so sorry.” She starts to wrap her arms around me, but I pull back, shaking my head, a horrible feeling growing in the pit of my stomach.

“Is she okay? What happened?”

Daisy shakes her head, hesitates, and somehow I know what she’s going to say before the words leave her mouth. “I’m so sorry, Maya. Naomi’s dead. She’s gone, I’m so sorry.”

Excerpted from SOCIETY OF LIES by Lauren Ling Brown. Copyright © 2024 by Lauren Ling Brown. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.