True Lies: A Lying Game Novella

by Sara Shepard

  Charlotte steps forward, close enough that I can smell her Chanel Chance. “Laurel.”

  I burst out laughing. Laurel playing buddy-buddy with my friends is one thing, but joining the Lying Game? Never. “Good one, guys. Nice. Laurel. Right.” I shake my head. “Can we talk tomorrow? I’m tired.” I reach an impatient arm out to the doorknob.

  But Mads and Char don’t budge. Their expressions are resolute, unchanging. Slowly, it sinks in. “Wait, you’re serious?” I blurt, my voice cracking more than I want it to.

  Madeline twirls a lock of ebony hair around her index finger. “We think she’d be an asset to the group. And have a heart, Sutton—she’s beside herself about Thayer. We should do something nice for her, don’t you think?”

  I want to roll my eyes. Once again, Laurel gets to milk this whole “Thayer’s gone” thing to the hilt while I have to endure the pain quietly. “Do something nice, yes,” I argue. “But not ruin our club to let her in.”

  “We wouldn’t be ruining anything,” Madeline says. “And anyway, Laurel has proven herself. She helped with that Christmas prank, remember?”

  I stare at them in disbelief. “Yeah, because that was my Christmas present to her. It wasn’t an invitation to the group.” Laurel had been begging to be part of the Lying Game practically since its inception, and I’d finally thrown her a bone and let her help us steal the Christmas tree from La Encantada Mall. It wasn’t even a particularly good prank, but Laurel acted like it was the cleverest thing in the world.

  Then I turn toward Charlotte, realizing something. “Is this your way of getting back at me for going out with Garrett tonight? You said you were okay with it.”

  Charlotte shrugs and turns away, her auburn ponytail smacking her in the face. All of a sudden, I can see she’s totally not okay.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” I say. “But that doesn’t make it okay to let Laurel in.”

  “She’s being a really good friend right now,” Charlotte says simply.

  She doesn’t elaborate. It seems that, in what she’s left out, she’s implying I’ve been a bad friend. I consider protesting about Garrett once more, but I’m not sure there’s much use.

  Then I whirl toward Madeline. “And why would you be mad at me?”

  Mads just stares at me and suddenly my palms begin to tingle. What if she knows I spoke to Thayer during the search party . . . but didn’t bother to mention that he was okay? The only way she could know that, though, is if Thayer called and told her himself. But why would he sell me out that way?

  “I’m not mad at you, Sutton,” Madeline says in a clipped voice after a moment. “Like I said, I just think Laurel would be a good asset to the club.”

  “Well, I don’t,” I say. “And as the Lying Game leader, what I say goes.”

  Madeline raises a finger. “Not this time. I’m invoking the Sudden Death Clause.”

  I cough. “Pardon?”

  “The rule we set up for testing new members. The member who opposes the proposed new initiate has to go head-to-head with her in a series of dares. If you win, Laurel’s out. But if Laurel wins, she’s officially a part of the Lying Game. For good.”

  A siren shrieks in the distance. The neighbors’ sprinklers kick on with a steady hissing sound. “That’s not in the rules,” I say in disbelief.

  “Oh yeah?” Madeline cocks her hip again, then pushes open my front door. “Let’s go have a look at the handbook.”

  I shove past her and sweep inside. “Great. Let’s.”

  I lead them inside and up the wide-planked staircase to my bedroom. As I slam the door, I catch sight of the Scooby-Doo stuffed animal Thayer won for me at the fair last year propped up on my bed. I get a pang, remembering the day it happened, but then I push it down deep. I had a great date with Garrett tonight . . . and Thayer’s with someone named Mary. Maybe we’re both moving on.

  I pull the handbook from a locked drawer in my desk. It’s an oversized scrapbook filled with scribbled notes, clips from any news mentions of successful pranks, receipts, props . . . basically a Lying Game Greatest Hits and how-to collection. The back pages of the book are computer printouts of our rules and minutes. Some pages are wrinkled and stained with age, like the ones detailing the original rules, but as I flip through, newer pages show clauses we’ve added over the years: like not messing with anything super-valuable, for one, like Char’s dad’s Ferrari, or not pranking on birthdays. I still have to fight back the urge each time one rolls around.

  On the very bottom of the very last page, I find it: scrawled in red ink in Charlotte’s handwriting, almost like an afterthought, is the Sudden Death Clause. And it reads exactly like Madeline said it did, word for word.

  “I don’t remember this at all,” I say, suspicion bubbling inside me. “When did you write this?”

  “I don’t remember,” Charlotte answers. She points at the book. “But since it’s there, it’s gospel.”

  It seems like they’re trying to hold in a giggle. My stomach lurches. There’s no way the Sudden Death Clause is legit. My friends wrote it here when I wasn’t looking—or maybe wasn’t around. Perhaps they were in the house with Laurel earlier tonight while I was out, and they hatched this plan then. I can just picture them sitting around Laurel’s room, giggling about their brand-new Sudden Death Rule, Charlotte running in here and writing it into the book as quickly as she could. Who knew how they got my lockbox open, but Laurel probably had a solution for that; I’ve caught her snooping around my room hundreds of times.

  I clench my hands into tight fists. I’ve never felt so betrayed. Mads and Char are supposed to be my best friends, not Laurel’s. Do they now prefer her, too, just like everyone else does?

  Suddenly, tears rush to my eyes, and I have to blink to hold them back. Madeline glances at Charlotte, giving her a worried look, almost like she realizes they’ve gone too far. But the last thing I want is for my friends to see me crying—or to know they’ve hurt me. It’s kind of like how I handled Thayer: be strong, carry on, move on. Thayer can’t bring me down, and they can’t, either.

  I straighten up. I’ll honor this stupid Sudden Death Clause—if I don’t, I’ll look like a wuss and a coward. And I’ll win. There’s no way I’m going to let my baby sister beat me.

  “Get Laurel,” I growl.

  Madeline scampers from the bed, knocking Scooby to the floor in the process. I hear a knock at Laurel’s bedroom door, and then a split second later, my sister appears in my doorway, her honey-blonde hair perfectly straightened and her eyes bright with expertly applied makeup. It’s like she did herself up knowing this moment was coming. Once again, I feel a bolt of betrayal, as sharp and acidic as lemon juice in a wound.

  She looks at me cautiously for a moment. I give her a steely stare. “I’ve decided to indulge your silly little whim,” I say primly. “We’ll go head-to-head on some challenges, even though it’s a really stupid idea. You’re going to lose.”

  “Yes!” Laurel chirps. She turns to Mads and Char. “So what’s our first challenge? Something in town? Something at school?”

  Charlotte laughs. “Oh, we’re not doing this in Tucson,” she says, waving a hand dismissively. “As Sutton always says, the Lying Game has standards. Sudden Death is not just an ordinary prank war.”

  “So what are you saying?” I ask impatiently. Personally, I would like Sudden Death to be ordinary. The sooner we get this ridiculousness over with—and the sooner Laurel is ousted from the Lying Game, once and for all—the better.

  Charlotte grins knowingly. “I think we all need a change of scenery.”

  I consider this. “Road trip?”

  There’s a wicked twinkle in her brown eyes. “We’re going to Vegas!”

  Vegas. An image of the glittering lights of the Strip pops up in my mind involuntarily and I feel a ping of excitement in spite of myself. “That has . . . potential.”

  “Right?” Charlotte jiggles up and down excitedly. “It’s the best timing ever, with school ending. Mad
s and I told our parents that we were going to cheer on the science team at their meet, which just happens to be taking place there this weekend.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “We don’t have any friends on the science team.”

  “Uh, we know,” Charlotte says. “That’s the point.”

  I glance at Madeline. “What about Thayer? Don’t you want to stay here and look for him?”

  Madeline shrugs and stares at the carpet. “It’s not going to do any good—it’s not like he’s hanging around Tucson. I know my brother, and he won’t come back until he’s good and ready. Besides, my dad . . .” She trails off, scrunching up her face. It’s obvious what she isn’t saying. Her dad’s temper is getting out of control. Mads probably needs the time away.

  A bolt of sympathy cuts through all my frustration and betrayal. A small smile creeps across my face as I warm to the idea. “All right. I’m game.”

  “Nice,” Charlotte whispers.

  Madeline looks at Laurel. “I told you she’d be into it.”

  I’m not thrilled about Mads and Laurel’s private little talks about me, but I try not to think about it. Instead, I see myself escaping Tucson for a while. Wearing a gorgeous gown, playing the slots, drinking martinis on a rooftop bar, hanging poolside in a bikini. Eat your heart out, Thayer, I think. If he wants space, I’ll give him space.

  “The Lying Game: Las Vegas.” I reach out to Laurel and shake her hand firmly. “May the best woman win, Baby Sister,” I say, flashing her my most brilliant smile. But inside, I’ve got my game face on. Get ready to go down, Laurel, I think fiercely. By the time this is over, you’ll be sorry you ever asked to be part of this club.

  5

  GOOD HELP IS SO HARD TO FIND

  “Vegas, baby!” Charlotte screams out the window of Floyd, my vintage racing-green Volvo, as I steer it down the Vegas strip on Saturday afternoon. “Yeah!”

  It’s midday and tons of people cram the sidewalks. Neon signs blink on and off. A woman with heavily kohl-lined eyes, a Cleopatra wig, and a shimmering, strapless gold tunic totters down the sidewalk on stilts, a sandwich board around her advertising the dinner buffet at the Luxor. Squat, pudgy tourists in sun visors waddle along, gaping at the model Eiffel Tower in front of the Paris Las Vegas Hotel and the caged lions pacing hungrily at the MGM Grand.

  My stomach twists with excitement as I soak it all in. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to Vegas, and I have a feeling this trip is really going to be . . . something.

  “Vegas, baby!” Madeline sings, too, giving Laurel a happy nudge. That’s the only blip in this mini-vacation: my sister coming along. And somehow, she’s controlled the whole drive so far. What kind of music we listen to. When we stop to pee. She even convinced Madeline to buy coconut water—and Mads vowed she’d never jump on that trend.

  I peer into my rearview mirror and see Garrett at the wheel of his SUV behind me. I waggle my fingers at him, and he grins back. When we decided we were going to Vegas for the night, I invited Garrett and his two friends along. I don’t want to spend one second of our time here wondering what Thayer is up to or who he’s with, and Garrett is the perfect thing to take my mind off him.

  Besides, Char kind of deserves to squirm a little bit after the stunt she pulled with Laurel. That bogus Sudden Death Clause was her handwriting in the handbook, after all.

  Madeline pulls an iPad out of her purse and taps the screen. “Now that we’re here, I think it’s time to review the official rules for the first-ever Lying Game Sudden Death Tournament.” Her silver bangles clatter against each other as she gestures.

  I roll my eyes. “Is this from the handbook, too?”

  Mads ignores my jab, squinting at something on the iPad. I glance over for a second and see organized boxes and columns.

  “Tell me you didn’t make a spreadsheet,” I groan.

  “It’s more organized this way,” she retorts. She lowers the volume on the radio and clears her throat. “Okay. It is now”—she glances at the clock on the dashboard—“three P.M. Saturday, Pacific Standard Time. The Sudden Death Competition will consist of five challenges, some spontaneous, some planned, over the next two days, with myself and Charlotte acting as scorekeepers.”

  “You’re assuming I trust you,” I grumble.

  “You will not know what the challenges are or when they will be invoked,” Madeline talks over me.

  I reach over and pinch her arm. “I think you might be taking this a little too seriously.”

  “I think you might be a little overconfident, Sutton,” Laurel puts in from the backseat.

  “We’ll see, won’t we?” I retort.

  Then I glance at Laurel in the rearview. She’s flicking a charm on the bracelet Thayer gave her, and she’s got a haughty smirk on her face, like she’s already in the club. This morning, before we left, she had the nerve to burst into my room and ask what we were wearing, like we were buds or something. When she asked if I was excited, I’d said, “I would be more excited if one less person was coming.”

  Charlotte pokes me in the back. “Turn here,” she barks. I twist to see the fountains of the Bellagio spurt up like a well-choreographed ballet. The sight is so majestic, I almost gasp.

  “We’re staying here?” I squeal in disbelief. “How’d you swing that, Char?”

  Char smiles mysteriously. “Oh, Daddy has some connections. Now, come on, girls. Let’s go to our room.”

  I cut the steering wheel and pull slowly up the circular drive, feeling like Julia Roberts in Ocean’s Eleven. Then I gaze up at the towering building, all glass and stone and light. “I hope our room has a sick view.”

  Over my shoulder, Charlotte shoots a sly look at Laurel. “Well . . . it might. That depends on your sister.”

  Madeline drums her hands against the dashboard. “The first challenge!” she says dramatically.

  Bring it on, I think, catching Laurel’s eye in the rearview mirror once more. “Let’s hear it.”

  Madeline shifts so she’s facing my sister. “Laurel, your mission is this: You’re going to woo reception into giving us a room at a reduced rate. A sweet room. Preferably with a balcony.”

  Laurel pales. I snort. “How are you going to do that, Laurel? Whine your way into a better room? Cry to Daddy?”

  Laurel shoots me a look, then reaches for the door handle. “Piece of cake,” she says. Her paisley miniskirt twitches perkily as she makes her way into the hotel.

  Charlotte and Madeline giggle in her wake. “Oh my God, this is so inspired.” Madeline bounces her legs up and down like she can’t contain the awesomeness of the prank. Her blue eyes sparkle like gemstones. “We should have done a Lying Game road trip ages ago.”

  I hate to admit it, but Mads is right—it’s a good challenge, and luckily one my baby sis is sure to fail. I exhale and roll my head side to side, trying to release a little tension in my neck while we wait.

  There’s a tap on my window, and when I look up, Garrett beams down at me, flanked on either side by Tucker, a meathead with a flaming-red buzz cut, and Marcus, an Abercrombie-emo boy with floppy, black hair even glossier than Madeline’s. As he leans in, Charlotte turns away. Good.

  I roll the window down. “You have a reservation here?” Garrett asks.

  “Maybe,” I tease. The boys don’t know exactly what we’re up to in Vegas, and I don’t have any intention of telling them. They’re my arm candy, nothing else. “We’re big-time, baby.”

  “Obviously. Good thing I brought the plastic.” Garrett turns back to his car. “We’re gonna valet. We’ll meet you after check-in?”

  “Perfect,” I say, though a not-so-little part of me hopes that we don’t end up in this hotel—only because it would mean Laurel has failed her first challenge.

  I take in Garrett’s easy posture as the boys move off. “Garrett’s so sweet to come along with me,” I say loudly. Charlotte rolls her eyes and looks the other way.

  After a few more moments, during which an emphatic Taylor Swift g
ives way to Beyoncé on the local radio, Laurel scampers back to the car with a gleeful expression on her face. She slides into the car, eyes gleaming. “I got us a double room for half off. With a balcony, thank you very much.”

  Madeline’s jaw drops, and she offers Laurel her palm to slap. “Nice.”

  Laurel high-fives her. “It was a piece of cake.”

  “Awesome, Laurel,” Charlotte says, admiration ringing in her tone.

  Inside, I’m completely annoyed, but on the outside I just shrug. “That was an easy one,” I say loudly, hoping to bring the whole yay-Laurel party to a halt.

  “So I guess that means we’re one-nothing?” Laurel asks.

  Charlotte places a hand on my knee. “Not so fast, Laur. It’s your turn now, Sutton. Turn that double room into the best suite in the whole damn place, and you get the point instead.”

  Her hazel eyes glint at me, catlike, and the corners of her mouth turn up mischievously. I inhale sharply. The best room? That challenge is way harder than Laurel’s. It’s like they’re setting me up to lose.

  Still. I’m Sutton, the leader of the Lying Game. “No problem,” I say, squaring my shoulders and jumping out of the car.

  I stand in the porte cochere for a moment, my brain buzzing. My eyes take in the glittering, curved drive, the lush, climbing plants, and the bellhops’ brass luggage carts.

  Bingo.

  I pop the trunk and reach for my oversized ivory Beirn watersnake tote. I scrabble through it for a moment or two until I fish out what I need: a massive pair of blush-tinted sunglasses, a silk Hermès scarf, a tube of YSL lipstick in a traffic-stopping Rouge Flamme, and finally, a pair of silver snakeskin stilettos so tall and slim they look like weapons.

  Charlotte is staring at me through the window. “You keep those in your bag?” she asks incredulously.

  I raise an eyebrow at her. “You don’t?”

  She snaps her mouth closed again. Madeline suppresses a nervous giggle. Laurel chews away at a thumbnail.