Spencer felt a tangerine-size lump in her throat. “I don’t even know where my dad is right now. And my mom just found out about this. She’s really messed up.”
“I’m sorry.” Courtney looked straight at Spencer.
Spencer shifted her weight, and the chair squeaked angrily. “Everyone was keeping things from me,” she said quietly. “I have an older sister, Melissa. You may have seen her at the press conference. She was talking to your brother.” She was also the one who glared at you, she wanted to add.
“Melissa told me she’s known that Ali had a twin since high school,” Spencer continued. “She never bothered to mention it to me. I’m sure she loved knowing something I didn’t. Some sister, huh?” She let out a loud, clumsy sniff.
Courtney rose, plucked a Kleenex box off the bedside table, and plopped down at Spencer’s feet. “She sounds really competitive and insecure,” she said. “That’s how Ali was with me, too. She always wanted the limelight. She hated if I was better at anything. I know she was pretty competitive with you, too.”
That was an understatement. Spencer and Ali used to compete over everything—who could bike to Wawa the fastest, who could kiss the most older guys, or who could make JV field hockey in seventh grade. There were lots of times Spencer didn’t want to race, but Ali always insisted. Was it because Ali knew they were also sisters? Was she trying to prove something?
Salty tears spilled down Spencer’s cheeks, and sobs rose in her chest. She wasn’t even sure what she was crying about. All the lies, maybe. All the hurt. All the deaths.
Courtney pulled her in and hugged her tight. She smelled like cinnamon gum and Mane ‘n Tail shampoo. “Who cares what our sisters knew?” she murmured. “The past is the past. We have each other now—right?”
“Uh-huh,” Spencer murmured, still choking on sobs.
Courtney pulled away, her face brightening. “Hey! Want to go dancing tomorrow?”
“Dancing?” Spencer wiped her puffy eyes. Tomorrow was a school night. She had an AP history test at the end of the week. She hadn’t seen Andrew in days, and she still needed to get a dress for the Valentine’s Day dance. “I don’t know….”
Courtney grabbed her hands. “C’mon. It’ll be our chance to break free of our evil sisters! It’s like that ‘Survivor’ song!” And then she leaned back and launched into the old Destiny’s Child song. “‘I’m a sur-vi-vor!’” she sang as she waved her hands over her head, stuck out her butt, and wheeled around crazily. “Come on, Spencer! Say you’ll go dancing with me!”
Despite all her grief and confusion, Spencer burst out laughing. Maybe Courtney was right—maybe the best thing to do amidst all this craziness was kick back, let go, and have a good time. This was what she’d wanted, after all—a sister she could confide in, rely on, and have fun with. Courtney seemed to want the same exact thing.
“Okay,” Spencer said. And at that, she let out a big breath of air, stood up, and sang along with her sister.
10
A TICKET TO POPULARITY
A few hours later, Hanna maneuvered her Prius up the winding driveway, turned off the engine, and grabbed two shopping bags from Otter from the passenger seat. She’d made an emergency, I-feel-sorry-for-myself trip to the King James Mall after school today, though it wasn’t much fun shopping without a BFF or Mike. She didn’t trust her judgment anymore, either, and she wasn’t sure if the ultra-skinny Gucci leather pants she’d purchased were disco-fabulous or just plain slutty. Sasha, Hanna’s favorite salesgirl, had said Hanna looked great in them…but then again, she got commission on the sale.
It was pitch-black outside, and a thin crust of frost had formed over the front yard. She heard a giggle. Her heart started to hammer. Hanna paused in the driveway. “Hello?” she called. The word seemed to freeze right in front of her face before shattering into thousands of shards on the driveway. Hanna looked right and left, but it was too dark to see anything.
There was another giggle, and then a full-throated laugh. Hanna exhaled with relief. It was coming from inside the house. Hanna crept up the front walk and slipped quietly into the foyer. Three pairs of boots sat by the front door. The emerald Loeffler Randalls were Riley’s—she had a thing for green. Hanna had been with Naomi when she bought the spike-heeled booties lying next to them. Hanna didn’t recognize the third pair at all, but when she heard another peal of giggles from upstairs, one girl’s laugh stood out from the rest. Hanna had heard an identical version of that laugh many times, sometimes at her expense. It was Courtney. And she was in Hanna’s house.
Hanna tiptoed up the stairs. The hallway smelled of rum and coconut. An old Madonna remix blared from Kate’s closed bedroom door. Hanna approached and pressed her ear to the wall. She heard whispering.
“I think I saw her car pull into the driveway!” Naomi hissed.
“We should hide!” Riley cried.
“She’d better not try and hang out with us,” Kate scoffed. “Right, Courtney?”
“Um,” Courtney said, not really sounding certain at all.
Hanna padded to her bedroom and resisted the urge to slam the door behind her. Dot, her miniature Doberman, rose from her doggie bed and danced around her feet, but she was so angry that she barely noticed her. She should’ve seen this coming. Courtney had become Naomi, Kate, and Riley’s pet project, probably because she was the new media darling. All day, they’d prowled the Rosewood Day hallways in an intimidating four-girl line, flirting with the cutest boys and rolling their eyes at Hanna whenever she crossed their path. By eighth period, students were no longer looking at Courtney with uneasiness but respect and admiration. Four guys had asked her to the Valentine’s Day dance. Scarlet Rivers, a finalist in the fashion design department’s Project Runway contest, wanted to design a dress with Courtney as her muse. Not that Hanna was stalking Courtney or anything. It had all been on Courtney’s brand-new Facebook page, which had already amassed 10,200 new friends from around the world.