They both looked up to see Celeste, who had stopped in her tracks when she saw them. She was dressed with her usual Arwen-of-Middle-Earth flair, in a green tunic printed all over with Celtic knots and a pair of leggings. Bangles jingled on her wrists, and dozens of mismatched silver earrings hung from her multiple ear piercings. Her eyes were bloodshot, her voice thick with tears. She wiped furiously at her face and tried to force a smile. “I didn’t mean to, uh, interrupt.”
Emma gently pushed Ethan away from her. Celeste stood uncertainly in the hallway, looking everywhere but at them. Emma could see a folded piece of paper in her fingertips. She must have been about to put a note in Garrett’s locker.
“Are you okay?” Emma asked.
Celeste shifted her weight, her bracelets jangling musically against one another. She usually had an airy, ethereal sensibility, but today she seemed weighed down with sadness.
“I’m fine. I mean, you know how Garrett is.”
Celeste was clearly trying to sound dismissive, but the words hit Emma like an electric shock. She didn’t know how Garrett was, not really—but standing in front of her was someone who did. She glanced at Ethan, who stood a little apart, looking anywhere but at Celeste. “Hey, Ethan, can I meet up with you later?”
He looked startled for a moment. She widened her eyes meaningfully at him, trying to communicate that she wanted to talk to Celeste alone. He jumped up from where he’d been leaning on the wall, fumbling at his books. “Oh, uh, yeah. I should get to class anyway. See you, Celeste.”
Ethan’s footsteps disappeared down the hall. The Coke machine hummed loudly. Emma fidgeted with her purse strap. “I know we’re not exactly friends, Celeste, but I—I just don’t want you to get hurt.”
Celeste sighed, glancing up through her wet lashes to meet Emma’s eyes. “He’s an Aries. They’re always intense, you know?”
“Um, right,” Emma said. She bit her lip, thinking about what she’d just seen through the window. Garrett hadn’t looked intense—he’d looked like he wanted to hurt someone. “We used to fight a lot when we were together. He has a . . . scary temper.”
Celeste leaned back against the wall of lockers, watching Emma warily, like she was reluctant to confide too much. Emma couldn’t exactly blame her—the Lying Game girls had pranked her a few weeks ago. But after a moment Celeste spoke, her voice quiet, tentative.
“It just all comes back to Louisa. The weird thing is that Louisa is actually doing okay. I mean, her mom put her in therapy, so she’s had help. But the whole thing, like . . . broke him. His spirit is so wounded. I keep asking him to meditate with me. It helped a lot, after my parents got divorced. But he won’t even try.”
Emma nodded carefully. “So you think he’s angry because of . . . because of what happened with Louisa?”
Celeste gave her an odd look. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Oh, well, I never heard the whole story. I knew he was upset about it, obviously, but I don’t really know what he was upset about,” Emma fished.
The color drained from Celeste’s face. She glanced back over her shoulder as if checking for eavesdroppers. “I shouldn’t have said anything, then. It’s not my business to spread around.”
Emma mentally swore. Gossip always flowed freely at Hollier, and the one time she needed it, it dried up entirely.
“I’m not trying to pry,” she backpedaled. “I just think you should be careful. I mean . . . Garrett’s pretty volatile, Celeste.”
Celeste narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Sutton Mercer wasn’t exactly known for her concern for others.
“Well, um, take care,” Emma said, recognizing her cue to leave. She tucked Sutton’s purse under her arm and walked away.
“Hey, Sutton?”
Emma paused and turned around. Celeste stood in the middle of the hall, hugging her shoulders.
“I heard about your sister,” she said. “I’m sorry.” Then she turned and disappeared, leaving Emma with more questions than answers.
But something Celeste said had awoken a strange, tingling memory at the back of my mind. It stayed maddeningly out of reach, just beyond my memory, but I could feel it there. Something had happened to Garrett’s little sister—something very, very bad.
Maybe bad enough to turn her brother into a killer.
15
BEHIND ENEMY LINES
Garrett’s house was a small hacienda on a quiet street near the country club, surrounded by slate tile, low stone benches, and succulents in earthen pots. Enormous golden fish drifted lazily in a koi pond beneath a small cluster of paloverde trees. A dark blue Subaru Outback was parked in the drive, but Garrett’s silver Audi was nowhere to be seen. Emma sat in Sutton’s car across the street for nearly ten minutes, taking deep, steadying breaths and watching the house. Finally, she braced herself and got out of the car.
School had just let out. Garrett would be in the Hollier weight room with the rest of the soccer team for the next two hours—the season was over, but they worked out together year-round. Thoughts of Garrett had haunted Emma all day. His face red and angry as he screamed at Celeste; the smirk on his lips as he’d held up the sign that read BITCH; the small, shiny key with her sister’s initials scratched on the tag. She’d wandered through all of Sutton’s classes in a fog, waking up only during fourth-period German to stare intently at the back of Garrett’s head as if she could read his thoughts if she just tried hard enough. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She was going to hunt for answers—even if it meant putting her own life at risk.