“She is a girl.” Emma wheeled around, banging her hip against the edge of the sink. “And . . . and that’s not cool that you looked at my phone.”
Laurel lowered her chin and gave her a knowing smirk.
“Like you don’t look at mine al the time? So who is this Alex guy? Someone from Valencia Prep? U of A? Were you guys skinny-dipping? Good thing the Paulsons are in Hawaii!”
“I wasn’t in the pool,” Emma repeated, but then she looked down at herself. Droplets of water from the ends of her hair cascaded down her shoulders. She reeked of chlorine. “Okay. Fine. I was in the pool. But I was alone.”
Laurel traced her fingers on top of a wrought-iron sculpture of the words LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE that sat on the back of the toilet. “Why won’t you tel me the truth?” she said, sounding injured. “I won’t tel anyone. I promise. I can keep a secret.”
Emma lowered her eyes. The only person she could trust in Tucson was Ethan. “I was alone in the pool, I swear. I was hot, I was awake . . . end of story. And Alex is a girl I met at tennis camp.” Hopeful y, Sutton had gone to tennis camp . . . and hopeful y Laurel hadn’t gone with her. Then, trying to act annoyed and aloof, she pushed around Laurel and into the hal .
“Sutton, wait.”
Emma turned around. Laurel stood behind her, a dangerous smile on her lips. “I’m onto you. You’re going to tel me what you’re up to. Or else . . .”
The words hung in the air, almost palpable. “Or else what?”
Laurel was so close Emma could smel her lemony shampoo. Her shoulders were square and strong. Her broad hands curled at her sides. Al at once, Emma was transported back to that awful night in Charlotte’s house when someone had grabbed her from behind and nearly kil ed her. Laurel was tal er than Emma, about the right height of the person who’d assaulted her. And there was a solid strength about her, a sureness that made Emma think she could be capable of such a thing. After al , Emma had watched Laurel violently choke Sutton in the fake snuff film. Laurel stepped even closer, and Emma flinched and looked away. “You’d better tel me what you’re up to soon, or I’l real y give you something to be scared about. You think the train prank is something to laugh about now? What if I tel Mom and Dad al about it? What if I tel them what really happened?”
Emma stepped back in surprise. Please tell me what really happened, she silently wil ed. But Laurel just spun around and marched up the stairs, leaving Emma alone in the darkness.
Chapter 12
A Secret of a Different Kind
“Ich war in Arizona geboren,” Emma whispered to herself, the German IV textbook in her lap and a series of note cards in her hands. She frowned at how the guttural syl ables sounded. German reminded her of an old man hacking up phlegm.
It was Tuesday, and Emma was sitting at a round outdoor lunch table in the courtyard, which was reserved for seniors and a few cool juniors; everyone else had to sit inside the stuffy cafeteria, which had the unfortunate tang of fish tacos. Charlotte, Madeline, and Laurel were due to meet her any minute, and Emma passed the time by reviewing German notes for a big chapter test tomorrow. Even though Sutton had probably never studied a day in her life, Emma couldn’t blow off even the littlest quiz. She’d been a straight-A student since first grade, and she wasn’t going to stop now.
I chafed under my twin’s judgment. Maybe I was distracted with other things, too busy to study. Or maybe I was secretly smart but just didn’t see the point. The German chapter test covered the stages of life: being born, living, dying. “Ich war in Arizona geboren,”
Emma mouthed again. I was born in Arizona. That would be Sutton’s answer—but was it real y true? Becky had always told Emma she was born in New Mexico—meaning Sutton had been, too.
“Sutton starb in Arizona,” Emma mouthed quietly, reading the next vocabulary word. Sutton died in Arizona. Just saying it, even in another language, made Emma’s stomach clench. She leafed through the glossary in the back of the book, but the German IV text didn’t offer a more accurate verb like murdered, killed, slaughtered, or strangled.
“Have you bought your tickets to the Homecoming dance?”
Emma jumped at the chirpy voice above her. A girl with green face paint, a fake nose, an Elvira beehive wig, and a long black dress that looked like it was infested with bedbugs pushed a flyer that said HALLOWEEN HOMECOMING
DANCE! BE THERE OR BE SCARED! into Emma’s lap. When she saw who Emma was, her manic smile drooped and she stepped away. “Oh! Um, I mean, I’m sure you have, Sutton. Have an awesome time!”
Before Emma could say a word, Elvira skittered across the courtyard. This wasn’t the first time a dork had shied away from Emma, giving her a wide berth in the hal ways or scurrying out of the girls’ bathroom just as Emma walked in. Just another part of being Sutton Mercer, Emma realized, suddenly wondering if the way people reacted to her had ever made her twin feel lonely. Did Sutton ever truly let anyone in?
I didn’t know how to answer Emma’s question. But considering it looked like someone close to me took my life, maybe I was right not to trust anyone.
Emma shut the German text. As she stared at the fakehappy, lederhosen-wearing German couple on the cover, she felt the distinct and prickly sensation that someone was watching her. She slowly turned around. A table of footbal players laughed boisterously at a guy pantomiming some joke across the patio. At the next table sat a boy and a girl. Their mouths were angry red slashes, and their gazes were squarely fixed on Emma.