Spencer leaned forward and shouted in Emily’s ear. “Remember those dance contests we used to have in Ali’s living room?” They moved all the furniture to the corners, cranked up the stereo, and made up elaborate dance moves to Justin Timberlake. “This is just like that…only better.”
Emily gave Spencer a coy look. “More than you know, actually.”
Spencer frowned. “What do you mean?” But Emily took a long swig of her drink and turned away.
The crowd around them thickened. Spencer felt people staring. A bunch of guys edged close, taking advantage of every opportunity they could to bump against Courtney’s hips, Emily’s long legs, or Spencer’s bare shoulders. Girls looked on longingly, many of them waving their arms over their heads like Courtney was, hoping some of her magic would rub off on them. The wallflowers sitting in booths gaped at the three of them as if they were Hollywood starlets.
Euphoria washed over Spencer. The last time she’d felt this amazing was right after Ali had befriended all of them at the Rosewood Day Charity Drive, first inviting them for smoothies at Steam, then asking them to a sleepover at her house. Spencer had no idea why Ali had chosen her out of all the rich, pretty sixth graders at Rosewood Day—she hadn’t even made Spencer compete for her attention. When Spencer had returned to her charity booth after the smoothie, her peers had gazed at her enviously. Everyone wanted to be in Spencer’s shoes, just like they did now.
Dappled light from the disco ball slithered across the length of Courtney’s body as she moved. A dark-haired guy started to writhe against her. He was a few inches shorter than Courtney, wore a tattoo-tee, and sported an ironic, hipsterish mustache. He reminded Spencer of an emo version of a Super Mario Brother.
Courtney pointedly turned away from him, but he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Next he ground against Emily’s hip. Emily looked mortified. Spencer nudged between them, grabbing Emily’s hands and twirling her around. Mario vanished through the crowd, but in seconds he was back, his eyes now on Spencer.
“Hide behind me,” Courtney squealed. Spencer tipsily ducked behind her. Emily moved closer, doubled over in laughter. Mario danced by himself a few feet away, his movements bizarre and jerky. Every so often he glanced at the three of them, clearly hoping they’d invite him into their circle.
“I think one of us has to dance with him to make him go away,” Emily said.
Courtney put her finger to her lips. She glanced at Emily and smiled mischievously. Then, Courtney tipped her head toward Spencer. “Not it.”
The words sank in slowly. Spencer suddenly tasted sticky martini at the back of her throat. “W-what?”
“Not it,” Courtney repeated, still bobbing to the beat. Even her eyes danced. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our old favorite game, Spence.”
Our old favorite game? Spencer stepped away from Courtney, nearly colliding with a tall girl with waist-length brown hair. Lightning crackled through her veins. Something was wrong here. Very, very wrong.
Emily and Courtney exchanged another knowing look. Then Courtney took Spencer’s arm and guided her and Emily away from the dance floor to a quieter part of the bar. Spencer’s heart rocketed. Something about this seemed planned, staged.
They made her sit down in an empty booth. “Spence, I have something to tell you,” Courtney said, pushing a lock of hair out of her face. “Emily already knows.”
“Knows?” Spencer repeated. Emily smiled conspiratorially. “Knows what? What’s going on?”
Courtney reached out and grabbed her hands. “Spence. I’m Ali.”
Spencer’s head snapped up. “That’s not funny.”
But Courtney had a serious look on her face. Emily did, too.
The music warped. The strobe light was giving Spencer a migraine. She slid farther into the booth. “Stop it,” she demanded. “Stop it right now.”
“It’s true,” Emily said, her eyes wide and unblinking. “Honest. Just hear her out.”
Courtney began to explain what had happened. When Spencer heard the word switch, the martinis she’d downed crawled up the back of her throat. How was this possible? She didn’t believe it. Couldn’t believe it.
“How many times were you two in Rosewood together?” Spencer croaked, woozily gripping the edge of the banquette.
“Just once,” Courtney—Ali?—said, her eyes downcast. “The weekend my sister died.”
“No, wait.” Emily frowned, raising a finger. “Wasn’t she here one other time?” She reached into her black patent clutch, pulled out her phone, and showed them the old photo text A had sent. Ali, Jenna, and a third blond girl whose back was to the camera stood in the DiLaurentises’ yard on what looked like a late-summer afternoon. The third blond girl could definitely be Ali’s twin.
“Oh.” Courtney pushed her hair out of her eyes and snapped her fingers. “Right. I forgot. She was home for a couple hours when she was switching hospitals.”
Spencer counted the funky glass tiles on the wall along the back of the booth, trying to make some sense and order out of the chaos. “But if Courtney always pretended she was Ali, how do I know you aren’t Courtney?”
“She’s not,” Emily urged. The blond girl shook her head, too.
“But what about the ring?” Spencer pressed, pointing to Courtney’s naked finger. “The girl in the hole was wearing Ali’s initial ring on her pinkie. If you’re Ali, why was Courtney wearing it?”