It seemed possible. From the flashes I’d seen of my past, Laurel was a hanger-on, a snoop, a spy. I didn’t know why we’d let her into the Lying Game, but I knew I hadn’t supported it. I think, deep down, I was jealous. Laurel was my parents’ real daughter, clearly loved more than me. I didn’t want my friends to love her more, too. Laurel padded into the powder room and sat down on the closed toilet seat. “So when were you going to tel me?”
“About what?” Emma pretended to be fascinated with the mini soaps lined up on the edge of the sink.
“About who you’ve been seeing. About who you were talking to outside just now.”
Nerves snapped under Emma’s skin. So Laurel had seen. And if Laurel had kil ed Sutton, if Laurel knew Emma was with Ethan, Emma might have just risked Ethan’s life, too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Her voice trembled slightly.
“Come on,” Laurel snapped. “You were with someone named Alex, weren’t you?”
Alex? Emma let the towel go slack in her hands, racking her brain for someone named Alex at Hol ier. The only Alex she knew was her friend from Henderson. . . .
“I saw that text on your phone in Ceramics,” Laurel said, crossing her arms and staring at Emma’s face in the mirror.
“Someone named Alex wrote to you. He said he was thinking of you.” Her eyes sparkled. “Was this the guy you vanished with at your party, too?”
Emma’s head spun. “Alex is a girl,” she blurted.
“Uh-huh.” Laurel rol ed her eyes. “When are you ever going to trust me again?” she asked in a low voice. Something painful passed between the two of them, something Emma couldn’t quite get a grip on. Sutton had hurt Laurel in the past—of that Emma was sure—and it seemed that maybe Laurel had hurt Sutton, too.
“She is a girl.” Emma wheeled around, banging her hip against the edge of the sink. “And . . . and that’s not cool that you looked at my phone.”
Laurel lowered her chin and gave her a knowing smirk.
“Like you don’t look at mine al the time? So who is this Alex guy? Someone from Valencia Prep? U of A? Were you guys skinny-dipping? Good thing the Paulsons are in Hawaii!”
“I wasn’t in the pool,” Emma repeated, but then she looked down at herself. Droplets of water from the ends of her hair cascaded down her shoulders. She reeked of chlorine. “Okay. Fine. I was in the pool. But I was alone.”
Laurel traced her fingers on top of a wrought-iron sculpture of the words LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE that sat on the back of the toilet. “Why won’t you tel me the truth?” she said, sounding injured. “I won’t tel anyone. I promise. I can keep a secret.”
Emma lowered her eyes. The only person she could trust in Tucson was Ethan. “I was alone in the pool, I swear. I was hot, I was awake . . . end of story. And Alex is a girl I met at tennis camp.” Hopeful y, Sutton had gone to tennis camp . . . and hopeful y Laurel hadn’t gone with her. Then, trying to act annoyed and aloof, she pushed around Laurel and into the hal .
“Sutton, wait.”
Emma turned around. Laurel stood behind her, a dangerous smile on her lips. “I’m onto you. You’re going to tel me what you’re up to. Or else . . .”
The words hung in the air, almost palpable. “Or else what?”
Laurel was so close Emma could smel her lemony shampoo. Her shoulders were square and strong. Her broad hands curled at her sides. Al at once, Emma was transported back to that awful night in Charlotte’s house when someone had grabbed her from behind and nearly kil ed her. Laurel was tal er than Emma, about the right height of the person who’d assaulted her. And there was a solid strength about her, a sureness that made Emma think she could be capable of such a thing. After al , Emma had watched Laurel violently choke Sutton in the fake snuff film. Laurel stepped even closer, and Emma flinched and looked away. “You’d better tel me what you’re up to soon, or I’l real y give you something to be scared about. You think the train prank is something to laugh about now? What if I tel Mom and Dad al about it? What if I tel them what really happened?”
Emma stepped back in surprise. Please tell me what really happened, she silently wil ed. But Laurel just spun around and marched up the stairs, leaving Emma alone in the darkness.
Chapter 12
A Secret of a Different Kind
“Ich war in Arizona geboren,” Emma whispered to herself, the German IV textbook in her lap and a series of note cards in her hands. She frowned at how the guttural syl ables sounded. German reminded her of an old man hacking up phlegm.
It was Tuesday, and Emma was sitting at a round outdoor lunch table in the courtyard, which was reserved for seniors and a few cool juniors; everyone else had to sit inside the stuffy cafeteria, which had the unfortunate tang of fish tacos. Charlotte, Madeline, and Laurel were due to meet her any minute, and Emma passed the time by reviewing German notes for a big chapter test tomorrow. Even though Sutton had probably never studied a day in her life, Emma couldn’t blow off even the littlest quiz. She’d been a straight-A student since first grade, and she wasn’t going to stop now.
I chafed under my twin’s judgment. Maybe I was distracted with other things, too busy to study. Or maybe I was secretly smart but just didn’t see the point. The German chapter test covered the stages of life: being born, living, dying. “Ich war in Arizona geboren,”
Emma mouthed again. I was born in Arizona. That would be Sutton’s answer—but was it real y true? Becky had always told Emma she was born in New Mexico—meaning Sutton had been, too.
“Sutton starb in Arizona,” Emma mouthed quietly, reading the next vocabulary word. Sutton died in Arizona. Just saying it, even in another language, made Emma’s stomach clench. She leafed through the glossary in the back of the book, but the German IV text didn’t offer a more accurate verb like murdered, killed, slaughtered, or strangled.
“Have you bought your tickets to the Homecoming dance?”
Emma jumped at the chirpy voice above her. A girl with green face paint, a fake nose, an Elvira beehive wig, and a long black dress that looked like it was infested with bedbugs pushed a flyer that said HALLOWEEN HOMECOMING
DANCE! BE THERE OR BE SCARED! into Emma’s lap. When she saw who Emma was, her manic smile drooped and she stepped away. “Oh! Um, I mean, I’m sure you have, Sutton. Have an awesome time!”
Before Emma could say a word, Elvira skittered across the courtyard. This wasn’t the first time a dork had shied away from Emma, giving her a wide berth in the hal ways or scurrying out of the girls’ bathroom just as Emma walked in. Just another part of being Sutton Mercer, Emma realized, suddenly wondering if the way people reacted to her had ever made her twin feel lonely. Did Sutton ever truly let anyone in?
I didn’t know how to answer Emma’s question. But considering it looked like someone close to me took my life, maybe I was right not to trust anyone.
Emma shut the German text. As she stared at the fakehappy, lederhosen-wearing German couple on the cover, she felt the distinct and prickly sensation that someone was watching her. She slowly turned around. A table of footbal players laughed boisterously at a guy pantomiming some joke across the patio. At the next table sat a boy and a girl. Their mouths were angry red slashes, and their gazes were squarely fixed on Emma.
Garrett and Nisha.
Today, Nisha wore a fitted kel y-green tennis sweater and Lacoste sneakers and a glare that made Emma’s blood run cold. Even though Emma hadn’t realized they were friends, Garrett sat hip-to-hip with Nisha, his needling gaze on Emma, too. His disgusted expression seemed to say I know about you. I know about Ethan.
Could Garrett know? Had he been the one idling outside the Paulsons’ pool last night? Maybe he and Nisha had been there together. Emma gave Garrett a smal , hopeful wave, but Garrett just shook his head ever so slightly and whispered something into Nisha’s ear. Nisha giggled at whatever Garrett said and smirked at Emma.
Suddenly, Emma couldn’t take their little secrets anymore. Bal ing her fist, she glared at the petite, darkhaired girl. “Can I help you with something, Nisha?” she asked, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.
Nisha flashed a saccharine smile and inched closer to Garrett, resting her bloodred fingernails possessively on his arm. “I was just about to remind you that the mandatory team dinner is at my house on Friday. I mean, I would’ve involved you in the planning, but who knows if you’l even show?”
Emma bristled. “Wel , maybe I’d show if you ever threw something worth attending.”
Good for you, Em, I thought. Emma was getting better at standing her ground and summoning her inner me. Maybe there was some truth to that nature versus nurture debate after al .
Then Nisha’s gaze brightened at someone behind Emma. “You’re coming, aren’t you, Laurel? Or wil Sutton not al ow it?”
Emma turned to see Laurel plopping her lunch tray down on the table. Laurel shot daggers in Nisha’s direction, saying nothing. “Since when are team dinners mandatory?”
she muttered under her breath. “Someone needs to tel her that just because she’s cocaptain doesn’t make her queen.”
“She’s just pissed because Sutton didn’t show up last time.” Charlotte dropped into a seat, too, slapping a striped canvas lunch bag on the table. She looked at Emma. “If you don’t want us to go to this one, Sutton, we won’t.”
Laurel turned to Emma and nodded, too. Emma had noticed that, as the de facto Lying Game leader, Sutton’s friends always deferred to her.
But I wasn’t sure they were thril ed about that. Charlotte stared at Emma wearily, as though she was tired of Sutton Mercer’s mercurial rules and regulations.
“So where were you today?” Madeline interrupted, sliding into the bench next to Emma. “Why weren’t you at The Hub?”
Emma squinted. “We were supposed to meet at The Hub?” That was the name of the school store and coffee bar next to the cafeteria. The place mostly sold Hol ier sweatshirts, dance raffle tickets, and Number 2 pencils.
“For Court planning, yes! Hel o, tradition?” Madeline handed Emma a coffee from a cardboard carrier.
“Whatever. I got a latte for you. I guess someone’s a little distracted today, huh? Perhaps from her time in the slammer last night?”
Laurel opened her Sprite Zero with a sharp thwock. “I told them about it this morning.” She held Emma’s gaze, innocently batting her eyelashes as if to say, And guess what else I’ll tell?
“Apparently you weren’t going to.” Charlotte rested her hands on a Tupperware container ful of spinach salad.
“What happened?”
Madeline fidgeted with a plastic knife, running her fingers along the jagged edge. “Since when do you shoplift without us?” She looked annoyed, like Emma had slighted her.
“And getting caught at Clique?” Charlotte clucked her tongue. “We had that place mastered by eighth grade!”
“Laurel told me you took a Tori Burch clutch.” Madeline wrinkled her nose. “Sutton, Tori is not worth stealing.”
