by Sara Shepard
Page 9
Emma turned on her heel and scuttled around the corner to Sutton’s locker. Her fingers shook as she worked the combination and opened the door. She rummaged around for a moment, pretending to search, and retrieved the bottle of Evian that was thankfully sitting on the upper shelf. She tipped it back and guzzled it down, but the liquid did nothing to quench her thirst.
When she looked up, Laurel was standing at the end of the aisle, staring at her phone with wide eyes. Emma nearly screamed. For an agonizingly long moment Emma couldn’t remember if she’d clicked off Laurel’s text to Sutton and returned to the phone’s main screen.
“Huh,” Laurel said, frowning.
“What?” Emma asked shakily.
“I could have sworn I put this in the side pocket of my purse,” Laurel said slowly.
Alarms blared in Emma’s head. She knows you were digging! Run away, now! But her sneakers felt nailed to the floor. “I have no idea where you put your phone,” she mumbled, the words jammed in her throat.
“Of course you don’t,” Laurel simpered, rolling her eyes. She slipped the phone in her pocket, then sauntered toward Emma, her eyes blazing. Heat seemed to radiate from her body, her limbs coiled to strike.
“Boo,” Laurel whispered, touching Emma’s chest. Emma screamed and recoiled, shielding her body with her hands and shutting her eyes tight.
When she opened them again, Laurel was snickering. “Someone’s jumpy,” she said as she sauntered past. The door hinges squeaked as she slammed out of the locker room.
Emma left the locker room, too, standing just outside the doorway. Soft thwaps from the tennis balls on the court filled the air as she watched Laurel trot across the practice fields and rejoin the team at the tennis courts. She was smiling from ear to ear, as though she hadn’t just acted completely diabolical and crazy a moment before. But Emma knew better.
And I did, too. Laurel was onto her. And my sister had better watch her back.
9
THAT’S ONE WAY TO WIN
A few hours later, Emma steered into the driveway of Ethan’s bungalow, which was located in a development across the street from Sabino Canyon. It was the smallest house on the block—Nisha’s, which was next door, was more than twice the size—and had definitely seen better days. Black paint flaked from the shutters, and there was a tiny tear in the screen door, which hung crooked on its hinges.
She opened the car door and made her way onto Ethan’s front porch. Crickets sounded from the wooded area behind Ethan’s house, their steady humming ringing in Emma’s ears. She raised her hand to press the doorbell, but drew back when she heard a crash.
“Damn it, Ethan!” a woman’s voice rang out just inside the door. A figure passed by the screen, not noticing Emma on the porch. “Didn’t I ask you to vacuum yesterday?”
Emma drew away from the doorbell. But before she could scamper off the porch, footsteps pounded, and a tall woman appeared in the foyer.
“What do you want?” The woman’s blue-flowered dress hung loose over her skeletal frame and freckles spotted her pale skin. Thin, mouse-colored brown hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail, and tiny fly-aways hung in her eyes.
I had a feeling I knew her. But I had no idea why. Ethan and I hadn’t exactly hung out at each other’s houses.
“Uh, hi,” Emma squeaked, peering at Ethan’s mom through the screen. Mrs. Landry hadn’t opened it for her. “I’m Sutton,” she went on, shifting her weight. “I’m here to pick up Ethan for the soccer game. ”
“I know who you are,” the woman said bitingly.
There were more footsteps, and Ethan appeared behind his mother, looking mortified. “Uh, see you, Mom. I’ll be back at nine. ”
He pushed around his mother and slipped onto the porch. Mrs. Landry’s top lip formed a thin, unmoving line. “It was nice to see you,” Emma said meekly. Mrs. Landry just sniffed, and walked away. The door slammed loudly behind her.
“Is everything okay?” Emma asked quietly.
Ethan shrugged. “She’s just in one of her moods. ”
Emma touched his arm sympathetically. His mom had had cancer, and Mr. Landry went AWOL during the chemo treatments. Even though Mrs. Landry was in remission, she’d never fully recovered emotionally, and she expected Ethan to take care of almost every household chore.
Ethan slid into the passenger seat and buckled his belt, and Emma turned on the engine. “So can I see the text?” Ethan asked quietly.
Emma nodded. Idling in the driveway, she pulled Sutton’s cell phone from her bag, and showed him the picture she’d taken of Laurel’s screen. After she’d found the text, she’d called Ethan immediately to tell him about it. His brow furrowed as he studied the photo. “Wow,” he whispered.
“I know,” Emma said, looking at it, too. The next time I see you, you’re dead.
Ethan sat back in the bucket seat, the vintage leather crunching beneath him. “So you think Laurel killed Sutton in some kind of a jealous rage, because she was with Thayer?”
If I could have shivered, I would have. I thought about the call Thayer made to Laurel just after he’d been hit. She’d arrived so quickly, almost like she’d been waiting around the corner. Thayer had said someone was chasing us in the canyon—was it Laurel? Had she followed me and Thayer that night and realized we were dating behind her back? Had she stolen my car and tried to hit me—only to accidentally hit the boy she loved instead? Had she then come back to the canyon to finish me off?
Emma shifted into reverse and turned out of the driveway. “Maybe. Love can make people do crazy things. Thayer’s hot. And obviously a charmer. ”
As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Emma regretted them. But Ethan just nodded thoughtfully. “She always used to follow him around—to the point that even I noticed it,” he said with a wry chuckle. “It seemed like puppy love at the time, but if you’re right about what happened, then it was much more sinister than that. ”
Emma paused at the stop sign and watched as cars whizzed past on the main road. “How do you think she did it? Killed Sutton, I mean. ” The words tasted sour on her tongue. It was one thing to talk about Sutton being gone, but it felt so macabre to talk about the specifics of her death.
I flinched as I considered my final moments. My most recent memories were of my final night on earth, but each time they cut off so abruptly. My death was so close, and I kept waiting to see how it all ended. I wanted to see it…and I also didn’t. Regaining my last moments meant that I’d have to experience them all over again. I’d be forced to watch the life drain out of me. And I’d feel it. I had to wonder if there was some reason I hadn’t seen it yet. Maybe when whatever cosmic force was keeping me suspended here in the in-between finally let me remember my death, I would die all over again. I’d see my killer, take my last breath, and explode into the ether, gone as swiftly and soundlessly as a bird taking flight.
Then another thought struck me hard, chilling me to my core. All my memories were sparked by things Emma uncovered—Laurel’s text, Lili’s threat about the train prank, Thayer’s return. What if my last memory came to me because my killer was doing to Emma exactly what had been done to me? What if we only discovered the truth when it was too late?
Ethan placed his hand on Emma’s knee. “I don’t know. She did try to strangle Sutton in the snuff video. And if she drove back to find Sutton, she could have used her car or some kind of weapon. It will be hard to know unless we…” Ethan’s voice trailed off. He cleared his throat gruffly. “Unless we…find her. ”
“True,” Emma murmured, a knot forming in the pit of her stomach at Ethan’s words. She took a deep breath, stopping behind a chugging motorcycle at a traffic light. “I just need to get Thayer alone for a minute so I can ask him if Laurel stayed at the hospital with him all night. If she was there, she’s in the clear, but if not…”
She let her sentence hang in the air, and they drove the rest of the way in silence. A few min
utes later, they pulled into the Wheeler parking lot. Emma had just been here a few weeks ago for a tennis match. The school was Hollier’s main rival, but it was a little more run-down, with chipped columns holding up sagging portico. To the left of the school, floodlights illuminated the soccer field. The players were warming up in tracksuits—maroon and yellow for Wheeler and forest green for Hollier.
They got out of the car and strolled through the busy parking lot toward the field. The air smelled of concession stand hot dogs and soft pretzels, and a bunch of kids were milling around the gates. When they noticed Emma and Ethan, they turned and stared. A couple girls nudged one another and smiled at Ethan.
Emma slipped her hand into Ethan’s. His palms were sweaty. This was his first public appearance as Sutton Mercer’s boyfriend.
“It’ll be okay,” she whispered.
“I know,” Ethan said stiffly, quickly glancing at his reflection in the chrome siding of one of the food carts just past the entrance. That was when Emma noticed how meticulously he’d dressed tonight—his jeans looked new, his blue polo perfectly matched his eyes, and he’d shaved, using the Kiehl’s aftershave she’d bought for him this past weekend. It was cute that he was so eager to make a good impression.
Even though they were at Wheeler, it felt like all of Hollier had turned out for the match. The stands were full of kids in green, who were stamping their feet and singing the school song. Emma looked for Madeline’s black hair and Charlotte’s shock of red, but she didn’t see them. “That’s weird,” she murmured. “They told me they’d be on the top row. ”
“Maybe they’re busy planning another prank on us,” Ethan mumbled under his breath.
“Ha, ha, very funny,” Emma said. The Lying Game had trapped Emma and Ethan in an abandoned house together last week. “Maybe they’ll lock us in a bathroom this time. ”
Ethan wrinkled his nose. “Hopefully not the guys’ locker room. That place smells like ass. ”
“Maybe the massage room for the sports teams,” Emma teased. “With our own personal masseuse. ”
Ethan broke into a smile. “Now that I could get behind. ”
There was an empty spot at the top, and Emma pulled Ethan up the metal steps. A few kids moved over to make room for them to sit. One girl with a short bob lifted her phone, pretending to text, but Emma could tell she’d snapped Ethan’s picture. Two freshman girls a few rows down giggled and pointed Ethan’s way.
Emma nudged his side. “Don’t look now, but I think you have the beginnings of a fan club. ”
Ethan flushed. “Yeah, right. ”
His bashfulness didn’t fool me, though. As Ethan ran a hand through his inky dark hair, I caught a trace of a smile on his face. Was it possible Loner Boy was enjoying the new attention? I always thought it was telling that the only people who railed against popularity were the unpopular ones. Who wouldn’t want to be adored?
