“Ethan,” Emma said, her voice full of frustration. “Talk to me! I’m sorry! I don’t know what else to say. Please don’t be mad anymore.”

Finally, Ethan let out a breath and stared into his open palms. “Okay. I’m sorry, too. I guess when you said Sutton’s friends were going to prank me… I freaked.”

“But why didn’t you believe me when I said I wasn’t going to?”

Ethan shook his head. When he finally spoke, his words were slow and strained. “You just look so much like her. You’re wearing her clothes. You’re hanging around with her friends. You’ve even got on her locket.”

“So?”

A muscle in Ethan’s neck tensed. As he looked away, Emma realized there was something else, something he wasn’t telling her. His gaze met hers and she saw a flicker of hurt pass over his light eyes.

“I never told you this,” he finally said. “But during freshman year, just after Sutton and her friends started the Lying Game, they pulled a prank on me. It was awful and it ruined my chances for a science scholarship in this program that I wanted more than anything. My family didn’t have the money to send me themselves. I was almost guaranteed the spot, but after the prank… I wasn’t.” There was a clanging sound as he tapped his sneaker against the bleachers. “I thought I was over it, but I guess maybe I’m not.”

I hovered close, feeling terrible. It was yet another example of how my pranks had really hurt people. I tried to remember pranking Ethan, but I couldn’t see a thing. The only memory I had of Ethan was when he’d interrupted my friends fake-strangling me in the desert. For a split second, I’d felt pure gratitude that he’d saved me … but then I’d gotten annoyed because he’d seen how scared I’d been.

“What did they do, exactly?” Emma asked.

Ethan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Suffice to say they blew my chances.”

Emma took Ethan’s hand and squeezed it tight.

“Listen, I’m not Sutton, okay? Maybe we’re alike in certain ways, but I would never hurt you. You have to know that.” Ethan nodded slowly, linking his fingers through hers and returning her squeeze. “I do know that. I swear. And I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. I should have believed you.” There was a long pause. The two of them watched a bunch of blackbirds land in the center of the track and then take off again. “You know what we should do?” Emma said slowly, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face.

“Let’s figure out a plan to double-cross them.”

“Sutton’s friends?” Ethan gave her an incredulous look.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive. I care about them, but it sounds like they need a taste of their own medicine. I’m sick of pranking people—and maybe if we can outsmart them, the whole Lying Game will lose its luster.” She turned on the bleacher so she was facing Ethan. “As of now, Sutton’s friends are planning on stealing your poems before your poetry slam and putting them online under someone else’s name. They want it to look like you plagiarized them.” Ethan let out a whistle. “Wow. That’s low.” His light eyes darkened and he looked out onto the track. “Why would they do that to me?”

A cloud passed over the sun and Emma watched her shadow disappear. “Laurel’s furious at me right now for getting Thayer in trouble. This is her idea of revenge. She knows that I …”—she swallowed awkwardly—“like you, and she’s hitting me where it hurts.”

A small smile played at the edge of Ethan’s lips. “I see.

Maybe we can meet at our usual spot and bat around ideas?”

“Well, I think we have to find a new spot, given that Laurel now knows that we meet there,” Emma pointed out.

Her insides felt warm and settled. Thank God Ethan was back on her side. “Now that that’s out of the way,” she said,

“there’s more I need to fill you in on.” She scanned the track, making sure they were still alone.

Ethan’s eyebrows spiked. “More about the case?” When Emma told him that the blood on the car matched Thayer’s, not Sutton’s, Ethan stared at her incredulously.

“That’s not all,” Emma went on. “I went to pick up Sutton’s car from the evidence lot, and I found something weird.” She explained the slip of paper with Dr. Sheldon Rose’s name, and how she traced it to a psychiatric hospital in Seattle. “Dr. Rose’s nurse said Thayer checked out on September twenty-first. Against doctor’s orders.” Ethan stared at her, his face pale. “Thayer was in a mental institution?” he said, shaking his head. He pressed his palms over Emma’s. “It’s him. It has to be. He snapped and killed Sutton. What’s to stop him doing the same thing to you?” He gripped her hands with his. “How am I going to protect you?”

Emma took a breath, feeling the smallest bit safer now that she had Ethan on her side again. “You can’t,” she said, watching Ethan’s face fall at her words. She squeezed his hands and went on, “We need to find proof that he did it.

The only way I’ll ever be safe again is when Thayer is behind bars—permanently.”

A door to the school slammed loudly, and they both looked up. The bell sounded, indicating that the period was over. Emma had skipped a whole class. In her old life, she’d never even been late to school. But making up with Ethan was worth it. “We should go back in,” she said softly.

“Do we have to?” Ethan asked. “I’d rather spend the whole day together.”

“Me, too,” Emma murmured. Then she turned to Ethan, getting an idea. “Sutton’s friends are planning a secret party, and I have to be there early to help set up. Do you want to come? I know parties aren’t your thing, but maybe it’s time we did something to take our minds off of me being stalked by a psychopath.”

“Not funny,” Ethan said, pushing a hand through his hair. “But …” He looked down at his sneakers. “Are you sure? Your friends will be there. Being out with me is not something Sutton would do. And it will ruin our counter-prank.”

Emma thought for a moment. “Well, then we forget the counter-prank. The best way to call off the poetry prank is for us to show up together at the party. And even if it’s not something Sutton would do, it’s what I want to do,” Emma said bravely. Now that she had decided to go public, she didn’t want to spend any time apart.

25

SOUND THE ALARM

That night, Emma angled the Volvo into Charlotte’s circular driveway and turned off the ignition. The Chamberlains lived in a six-bedroom stone home with two balconies that protruded from the second floor. Its grandeur still took Emma’s breath away, even though she’d been there several times. She’d never known anyone with this kind of money.

Laurel unlocked her car door and slid out, not bothering to thank Emma for the ride. They’d come together because they didn’t want to bring too many cars to the party and tip off the cops. Emma had considered ditching Laurel at home to pay her back for abandoning her at tennis so many times, but she figured that wouldn’t help to repair their rift.

Before either of them could ring the bell, the door swung open and Madeline smiled back at them, dressed in a bright red ruched dress that stopped at mid-thigh. “hello, dah-lings!” she cried dramatically. “Welcome to dinner! You both look smashing!”

“Thanks,” Emma said bashfully, looking down at the emerald green one-shouldered number she’d found in Sutton’s closet. She’d agonized over choosing an outfit, trying on at least six dresses before settling on this one.

She’d wanted something especially pretty to go with her newly styled hair and carefully applied makeup. This was the first time she and Ethan would be seen together in public, and nosy gossip-hounds would no doubt be taking tons of pictures for Facebook and Twitter. It was ironic: At her old schools, Emma secretly longed to be part of the popular crowds whose personal lives were splashed across the pages of social media sites. But now that she was one of those girls, she just wanted to be left alone.

The grass is always greener, I suppose.

Laurel and Emma followed Madeline down a long hallway that led to the Chamberlains’ massive kitchen. It looked just like the display kitchens in House Beautiful that Glenda, Alex’s mom, was always tearing pages from and stuffing into a folder she marked DREAM HOUSE. The air smelled of pot roast, fresh bread, and—of course—

Charlotte’s Chanel Chance perfume. For a moment, Emma’s gaze flickered to the kitchen island where the unknown assailant had come up behind her and held Sutton’s locket to her throat.

Except that the assailant wasn’t unknown anymore. It was Thayer. Emma glanced at Madeline, feeling an awkward twinge. What would Mads do when she found out her beloved brother was a murderer? She’d be doubly shattered: Not only would she discover that her best friend was dead, but she’d lose Thayer, too.

“Sodas, girls?” Charlotte appeared from behind the refrigerator door. She was wearing a tight black dress with leather triangles that crisscrossed her slightly ample midsection. It was a dress Emma wasn’t one hundred percent sure looked good on her, but she didn’t dare say anything.

“Too bad it can’t be champagne!” a voice trilled. Mrs.

Chamberlain appeared from the dining room and placed a hand on Charlotte’s shoulder. “If you girls skipped that party and hung out here for the night, I’d crack open a bottle of Veuve Clicquot for you. But I can’t have you drinking and driving!”

“That’s okay, Mom,” Charlotte said, looking a little embarrassed. If there were a Real Housewives of Tucson, Charlotte’s mom would be a shoo-in for a cast member.

She looked ten years younger than her age—which Charlotte claimed was the result of monthly Botox injections and hours spent on the ell iptical machine—and she wore outfits far more fashionable than most of the kids at Holl ier.

She was currently cloaked in a tight black dress that showed off her surgically enhanced cleavage. She also, it seemed to Emma, was dying to be Charlotte’s best friend instead of her mother. It was a far cry from foster mothers who only spoke to their foster kids when they were yelling at them or needed them to lie to the social workers so they’d get their monthly checks.

“Well, I’m thrilled you could make it for dinner,” Mrs.

Chamberlain went on, leading the girls into the dining room.

There were five seats at the table, and each place had a place card in front of it, as though they were at a wedding.

Emma was next to Charlotte and across from Madeline.

When Mrs. Chamberlain ducked into the kitchen to get everyone drinking glasses, Emma leaned forward. “Where are the Twitter Twins?” She’d suddenly noticed a lack of texting taking place at the table.

Laurel glanced briefly at Madeline and Charlotte, then shrugged. “Didn’t you hear? They’re at the hair salon. I swear, getting invited to their first super-secret house party as real Lying Game members is totally going to their heads.”