by Sara Shepard
I couldn’t help but wonder, too. If I had grown up with Emma, with a twin to watch my back, would I still be alive?
Mrs. Mercer sank down into the other chaise and laced her hands behind her head. “Can I ask you something without you biting my head off?”
Emma stiffened. She wasn’t really into prying questions. She got enough of those from Quinlan. “Uh, I guess.”
“What’s going on with you and your sister?” Mrs. Mercer scooted farther back in her chair. “Ever since … what happened on Friday night, things have been worse than usual between you two.”
Emma lowered her gaze from the sky and stared at her fingernails. “I wish I knew,” she said in a forlorn voice.
“You seemed to be getting along pretty well last week,” Mrs. Mercer said softly. “You guys went to Homecoming together, talked during dinner, didn’t get into the usual fights about the usual stupid things.” She cleared her throat. “Is it me, or did things change because Thayer appeared in your bedroom?”
Emma’s skin prickled just at the sound of Thayer’s name. “Maybe,” she admitted. “I think she’s … mad, somehow. But I didn’t ask him to show up that night.”
Mrs. Mercer pulled her lower lip into her mouth, thinking. “You know, Sutton, Laurel loves you, but you’re not exactly the easiest sister to have.”
“What do you mean?” Emma asked, crossing her legs and shifting closer toward Mrs. Mercer. A stiff wind tousled her hair and numbed her nose.
Yeah, I thought indignantly. What did that mean, Mom?
“Well, you’re beautiful, you’re smart, and everything seems to come so easily for you. Friends, boyfriends, tennis …” Mrs. Mercer leaned forward and pushed a lock of Emma’s hair behind her ear. “Thayer may have been Laurel’s best friend, but no one could deny the way he looked at you.”
Emma’s breath caught in her throat. Did Mrs. Mercer know something about Sutton and Thayer’s relationship? “And… how did he look at me?”
Mrs. Mercer studied Emma for a second, her expression giving nothing away. “Like he’d do anything to be with you.”
Emma waited, but her mother didn’t continue. She wished she’d say something concrete. But she couldn’t exactly ask, Hey, by the way, did I ever secretly date Thayer? And do you think it’s possible that he lost his temper and killed me?
A wistful smile tugged at the edges of Mrs. Mercer’s lips. “Your father used to look at me like that, you know.”
“Mo-om, gross!” Emma made a face, knowing that would have been Sutton’s reaction. But secretly she liked that Mrs. Mercer was telling her about her and Mr. Mercer’s courtship. It was nice to hear about two adults in love, two parents who wanted children and did everything in their power to give them the best life. People like that didn’t exist in her old life.
“What?” Mrs. Mercer pressed a hand innocently to her chest. “We were as young as you once, you know. Many, many years ago.”
Emma looked at the fine lines around Mrs. Mercer’s eyes and at her newly dyed hair. She’d found out that Sutton’s parents hadn’t adopted her until they were in their late thirties, after they’d been married for nearly twenty years. It was a stark contrast to Becky, who bragged to Emma that she was the “cool, young mom,” only seventeen years older than Emma was. But she always seemed more like Emma’s wayward older sister as a result.
“Are you glad you waited so long to have to kids?” Emma blurted before she could stop herself.
A tight expression passed over Mrs. Mercer’s face. A woodpecker banged away at a nearby tree. A car sputtered to life down the street. A cloud passed over the moon, momentarily darkening the night. Finally, she breathed in. “Well, I don’t know if glad is the right word. But I’m so thankful every day to have you and Laurel in our lives. I don’t know what I’d do if something ever happened to one of you.”
Emma shifted uncomfortably, the guilt gripping her like a vise. It was moments like these that she regretted having to keep a secret from Sutton’s family—a big secret. Their daughter had been murdered, and every day that passed was a missed opportunity to find her killer. When Emma had been on the bus to Tucson, eager to meet Sutton, she’d carried a small torch of hope that maybe, just maybe, Sutton’s adoptive family would take her in, too, let her live her senior year with them. Ironically, she’d gotten her wish. What would they do to her if they found out the truth? Throw her out for sure. Probably even have her arrested.
She wanted so badly to come clean to Mrs. Mercer. To tell her that something bad had already happened to one of her daughters. But she knew it was impossible. Ethan was right. She couldn’t tell anyone who she was. Not yet.
The door opened again, and a second figure stepped onto the patio. Laurel’s frizzy blonde hair was backlit against the floodlights on the roof. “What are you guys doing out here?”
“Stargazing,” Mrs. Mercer called cheerfully. “Come join us!”
Laurel hesitated for a second, then padded across the grass toward them. Mrs. Mercer nudged Emma, as if to say, Look! This is your chance to make things right! Laurel kept her head down as she dropped into a seat next to her mother. Mrs. Mercer leaned over and began braiding Laurel’s hair.
“You were looking at the stars?” Laurel asked incredulously.
“Uh-huh,” Mrs. Mercer chirped. “And I was telling Sutton about how much I love you two. And how much I want you two to get along.”
Even though it was dark out, Emma could tell Laurel was making a sour face.
Mrs. Mercer cleared her throat, obviously undeterred. “Now isn’t this nice, all three of us spending time together?”
“Uh-huh,” Laurel muttered unconvincingly, refusing to look at Emma.
“Maybe you two can even make up?” Mrs. Mercer pressed.
Laurel’s shoulders visibly stiffened. After a beat, she rose to her feet and wrapped her arms around her torso. “I just remembered some homework I have to do,” she mumbled, running for the door. It was like she couldn’t get away from Emma fast enough.
The door slammed hard. Mrs. Mercer looked dejected, as if she really thought her efforts would pay off. Emma sighed and stared up at her constellation once more. She picked out the two brightest stars near Mom Star, Dad Star, and Emma Star and named them Sutton Star and Laurel Star, hoping that their proximity up there could influence her and Laurel’s relationship down here.
But by the disgusted, hateful look on Laurel’s face, I had a feeling it would take a lot more than that. And Emma should know the truth about stars—even though it seems like they’re close together, up there in the heavens, they’re a zillion light-years apart.
10
GONNA GETCHA
The following day, the bell rang and Emma grabbed her English textbook and joined the stream of students in the hall. As soon as she rounded the corner for the art wing, she heard the whispers and felt the stares.
“Her and Thayer …”
“Did you know she sent him away?”
“His hearing is a month from now. Do you think he’s going to rot in jail that whole time?”
A female basketball player with streaky highlights and a snub nose shot Emma a curious look, then leaned in to a boy with dreadlocks. Both of them started snickering. Emma winced and kept her head held high. She’d had plenty of experience with weird looks from kids at the many schools she’d attended. In fact, she’d even composed a list of nasty comebacks she could shoot at passersby if they commented about her thrift-store clothes and the fact that she was a foster kid. She’d written down the list on a pocket-size Moleskine notebook and kept it with her at all times, just like foreign tourists who carry around English translation handbooks. She’d never been brave enough to use any of the comebacks, though. Sutton probably would have been.
Suddenly, something at the far end of the lobby caught Emma’s eye. A long table had been set up at the doors, and a line of students were standing in front of it, signing something. As the crowd parted, Emma saw Laurel and Madeline sitting o
n chairs, both wearing black T-shirts with words printed in white across the boobs. Emma squinted, not believing her eyes. The shirts said FREE THAYER.
Emma walked up to the table, curiosity getting the best of her. “Oh, hey, Sutton!” Madeline said in a saccharine voice. “We’ll be ready for lunch in a sec.”
“What’s that?” Emma asked, pointing at a clipboard all the kids were signing.
“Nothing.” Laurel pulled it away from a guy in a baseball jersey who’d just signed the paper and covered it with her hand. “You wouldn’t be interested.”
“She should be interested,” Madeline said under her breath. “She’s the reason he’s in this mess.”
Madeline pushed the clipboard toward Emma. PETITION TO FREE THAYER VEGA, it said at the top. Tons of student signatures were scrawled on lines down the page. There was also a jar marked BAIL FUND filled with ones, fives, tens, and even a twenty-dollar bill or two.
“Want to contribute, Sutton?” Madeline lilted, an edge to her voice. “Fifteen thousand is a lot of money, and we could use every dollar. There’s no way Thayer can last in jail until next month. We need to get him out sooner.”
Emma ran her tongue over her teeth. The only thing keeping her sane right now was the fact that Thayer was in jail until his hearing. But she couldn’t exactly tell Mads and Laurel that. She wondered what would happen if she showed up tomorrow in a THAYER MAY HAVE KILLED MY LONG-LOST TWIN SISTER shirt.
She glanced up to catch Laurel glaring at her. She thought about what Mrs. Mercer had said—that Sutton was a hard sister for Laurel to have. Emma wished she knew exactly why Thayer’s return had made Laurel so angry. Was it because Thayer went to Sutton’s room and not Laurel’s? Was Laurel jealous because of that, or did she know that Thayer had been in love with Sutton? Or maybe she thought that Sutton had stolen him away.
But maybe Laurel was upset about something else entirely—something Emma and I couldn’t even begin to imagine.
Luckily, Emma was saved from making an excuse to not sign the petition by Charlotte, who looped her arm around Emma’s shoulder. “C’mon, girls. Even activists need to eat,” she boomed loudly, beckoning for Madeline and Laurel. “I’ve scored our favorite lunch table.”
Shrugging, Madeline and Laurel slipped the petitions and banners back into their purses and stood. Charlotte wordlessly led them to a wooden table in the big courtyard outside the cafeteria. Desert flowers bloomed all around them. Hummingbirds flitted to the little daisy-shaped feeders that hung around the perimeter. At the table next to them, a bunch of girls in band uniforms were giggling at a picture on an iPad. Freshman meathead guys blew straw wrappers at each other at another table. A bunch of überskinny girls sat on the stucco wall, eating minuscule bites of Greek yogurt.
A squeal of laughter rang through the tension and Emma turned to see the Twitter Twins approaching. Gabby wore capri pants piped in grosgrain ribbon with a matching headband. A tiny piece of peach coral on a delicate chain peeked out between the pearlized buttons of the lime green collared shirt she had on. Lili, on the other hand, looked like she’d raided Courtney Love’s closet, wearing an übershort plaid skirt held together by a zillion safety pins, ripped black tights, and an off-the-shoulder black top that showed more than a bit of cleavage.
“Hello, ladies,” Gabby said, twirling a long strand of blonde hair around her index finger.
“Hey,” Madeline said unceremoniously.
“Don’t look so excited to see us,” Lili scolded.
Laurel rolled her eyes and drenched a piece of sushi in soy sauce.
The Twitter Twins plopped down and opened their lunch bags. Both had brought organic strawberry yogurt and a banana. “So, girls,” Lili said as she peeled the fruit. “Now that we’re card-carrying members of the”—she looked around and lowered her voice—“Lying Game, who are we going to prank next?” Her blue eyes sparkled with excitement.
Madeline shrugged a shoulder. She ran the back of her hand across the shimmery peach blush that dotted her porcelain skin. “I don’t care,” she said, casting a disinterested stare over Emma’s head.
But then Laurel’s face lit up. “Actually, I have an idea.” She glanced around conspiratorially, then lowered her voice. “What about him?” She pointed at someone directly behind Emma. Everyone swiveled to follow her gaze. When Emma saw who it was, her heart sank. Ethan was facing away from them, his feet propped up against the brick wall, a book in his hand.
“Ethan Landry?” Gabby said, a surprised note in her voice.
“Why not?” Laurel asked. She looked up and met Emma’s eyes, and Emma felt heat rise to her cheeks. She’d admitted that she liked Ethan when they’d bought Homecoming outfits together last week. And Laurel had seen them snuggling up at the tennis courts. This was an obvious screw-you, perhaps as revenge for Thayer showing up in Sutton’s bedroom.
Charlotte twisted her mouth, looking unconvinced. “Ethan? Wouldn’t that be a repeat?”
“Yeah, we said no repeats, Laur,” Madeline reminded her.
Emma nearly choked on the dry turkey sandwich she’d pulled out of Sutton’s lunch bag. What did that mean? Had they pranked Ethan before? She thought about the Lying Game videos she’d seen on Laurel’s computer. Not a single one involved Ethan. When had this happened? Why hadn’t Ethan told her about it?
“It’s technically a repeat, I guess,” Laurel acceded, tapping her lips thoughtfully. “But we never did get him back for ruining our prank on you, Sutton.” She was referring to the night Ethan stumbled upon Charlotte, Madeline, and Laurel blindfolding Sutton and staging a fake strangulation snuff film, the same film that landed on the Internet and led Emma to search for Sutton in the first place. Ethan had thought something terrible was happening to Sutton and intervened to stop it. But he’d told Emma that Sutton had laughed it off and pretended like it was nothing. “And we’ll make sure the prank itself is different.”
Madeline popped a grape into her mouth. “You know, Ethan is a pretty good target. He’s so sensitive and emo. He’ll probably, like, cry or something.”
“Boo hoo,” Lili lilted. She tapped something into Twitter, her fingers flying.
“I think a planning session’s in order,” Madeline said. “My house, tomorrow?”
Emma swallowed hard. It felt like everything was racing forward too fast, out of her control. “Shouldn’t we leave Ethan alone?” she blurted, her voice cracking.
Everyone turned and stared at her. “Why, Sutton?” Laurel asked, clearly enjoying herself. “Is someone keeping a secret we don’t know about?”
Emma gazed around the table at Sutton’s friends, feeling resentful that Laurel had forced her into this position. Laurel was the only person she’d confided in about Ethan—she wasn’t sure if the other girls would understand. Dating Ethan had to be an extremely un-Sutton thing to do, a strange choice after popular Garrett. And what would she tell them? She wasn’t exactly sure what was going on between her and Ethan. It wasn’t like they were boyfriend and girlfriend … yet.
Emma snapped the top from her Diet Coke and felt a tiny spray of soda bubbles against her fingertips. “I’m not keeping secrets,” she said smoothly, summoning up her best snooty Sutton voice. “Especially not about Ethan.” It hurt her heart just to say the words.
“Well, then, you’ll have no problem pranking Ethan with us,” Laurel said, clapping her hands together in a loud smack. She pointed across the courtyard at Ethan’s straight back. “I do believe, girls, that Mr. Emo Boy is next.”
11
PARTY OF FOUR
That night, strains of Laurel’s latest hip-hop ballad obsession filtered from her bedroom, down the hall, and into Emma’s ears. Emma pushed her index and middle fingers into her temples. What she wouldn’t give for an afternoon with Alex, her best friend from Henderson, listening to Vampire Weekend or any music that didn’t involve “Baby, baby, baby” in the lyrics. She wondered if her twin had shared Laurel’s awful taste in music.
For the re
cord, my music taste has always been impeccable. Maybe I couldn’t tick off all the amazing concerts I went to—I’m sure I’d gone to more than a few—but whenever Adele, Mumford & Sons, or Lykke Li came on the radio, I knew they had to be on my most-played iTunes list. The lyrics came back in haunting chunks, siren voices from my past.
“I can’t come, Caleb,” Emma heard Laurel shout over the music. “I told you, we’re going to dinner tonight as a family.”
Sighing, Emma rose and made her way to Sutton’s closet and sorted through a row of T-shirts stacked neater than the anally folded T-shirts at the Gap. Sutton had kept everything neatly ordered when it came to her clothes. Emma pulled a turquoise boat-neck tee from the pile, yanked it over her head, and selected a pair of dark denim leggings and metallic flats to go with it.
“Yeah, I know it sucks.” Laurel’s voice vibrated through the walls. “I so don’t want to go. The less time I spend with her, the better.”
Emma guessed she was the her to whom Laurel was referring. When she and Laurel had gotten home from tennis practice, Mrs. Mercer had announced that the family was in serious need of bonding time—in other words, Emma and Laurel needed to bury the hatchet—so they were going out for a nice meal at Arturo’s, an expensive restaurant in one of the Tucson resorts. In her past life, Emma most likely would have worked at Arturo’s as a hostess instead of dining there with a family. Emma wished she could tell Mrs. Mercer not to bother with a special let’s-kiss-and-make-up dinner. After the whole let’s-prank-Ethan announcement, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to reconcile with Laurel, either.
Another peal of laughter sounded from Laurel’s bedroom. Emma stared at her reflection in the mirror, running a round brush through her hair. Did Caleb know about Laurel’s crush on Thayer? What did he think of her camping out at the Free Thayer petition table, wearing that stupid black T-shirt? Had he signed the petition? And what did Laurel know about Thayer and Sutton, anyway? Once again she thought about Laurel’s vague comment: You got him in trouble! Again. What was she referring to? How could Emma find the answer?
