Two Truths and a Lie (19 page)

Madeline breathed in. When Emma turned, she noticed that Madeline was looking up at the vintage store, too. Then she faced Emma, her expression contemplative and a little awkward. “Listen, I don’t want to be pissed at you anymore,” she said.

“I don’t want you to be pissed at me either!” Emma exclaimed gratefully.

Madeline lifted a hand to shade her eyes. “No matter how upset I am about Thayer, I know him disappearing isn’t your fault. I’m really sorry I’ve been so awful to you.”

Relief coursed through Emma. “I’m sorry, too. I can’t imagine what this has been like for you and your family, and I’m sorry if I made things worse in any way.”

Madeline opened a packet of mustard with her teeth. “You do have a way of causing drama, Sutton. But you have to tell me the truth. You really don’t know why my brother showed up in your room?”

“I really don’t. I promise.”

A long beat went by. Madeline inspected Emma carefully, as though trying to read her mind. “Okay,” she said finally. “I believe you.”

Emma let out a breath. “Good, because I’ve missed you,” she said.

“I missed you, too.”

They hugged fiercely. Emma squeezed her eyes shut, but suddenly she got the distinct feeling someone was staring at her. She opened her eyes and looked into the dark parking garage next to the pretzel kiosk. She thought she saw someone crouch behind a car. But when she squinted harder, she didn’t see anyone.

Madeline linked her arms through Emma’s as they rejoined the girls. Charlotte grinned, looking relieved, too.

“I have exciting news, ladies,” Madeline announced. “We’re throwing a party on Friday night.”

“We are?” the Twitter Twins asked in unison, whipping out their iPhones, excited to break the news to their rabid followers. “Where?”

“You’ll know when you know,” Madeline said cryptically. “I’m only telling Sutton, Char, and Laurel.” She narrowed her eyes on Gabby and Lili. “It’s super private so we don’t get caught, and you guys aren’t exactly good at keeping secrets.”

Gabby’s plump lips popped into their trademark pout.

“
Fine
,” Lili said with an overdramatic sigh.

Laurel tossed the remnants of her pretzel into a garbage bin wrapped in a bright green poster that read,
CAN IT FOR A BETTER PLANET!
She adjusted the buckle closure on the strap of her bag. “What can we do to help? And what’s the dress code? Sundresses?”

Madeline took a long swig of lemon-lime seltzer. “It’ll start at ten, but we’ll have to get there early to set up. Leave the catering and drinks to me and Char. You handle the guest list, Laurel, and Sutton, you put together a playlist. And as for dress code, maybe shorts, heels, and a dressy top? Definitely something new. C’mon. Let’s get shopping.”

She grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her up. Emma smiled, appreciating Madeline’s olive branch. The girls walked to a boutique called Castor and Pollux. As soon as they passed through the front doors, the smell of new clothes and sugary perfume swirled in their nostrils. Glassy-eyed mannequins dressed in pleated chiffon skirts and herringbone jackets posed with their hands on their narrow hips. Stiletto heels much higher than anything Emma had ever worn lined the perimeter of the store.

“These would look awesome on you, Sutton,” Charlotte said, holding up a silver wedge.

Emma took it from her and discreetly checked the price.
Four hundred seventy-five dollars?
She tried not to swallow her tongue as she set it back down. Even though she’d been here for a month, she still wasn’t used to the way Sutton’s friends shopped with abandon. The cost of each individual item in Sutton’s closet was close to what Emma normally spent on an entire year’s wardrobe. And that was a
good
year—when she was fourteen, she didn’t have money for
any
new clothes. Her foster mother, Gwen, who lived in a tiny town thirty miles from Vegas, insisted on sewing all of her foster kids’ back-to-school outfits on a 1960s Singer sewing machine—she considered herself something of a fashion designer. Worse, Gwen was into gothic romance, which meant Emma started eighth grade wearing long, flowing velvet skirts, cream blouses that resembled corsets, and hand-me-down Birkenstocks. Needless to say, Emma wasn’t the most popular girl at Cactus Needles Middle School. After that, she’d always made sure to have a job, so she could at least buy the basics.

Lili gravitated to a table stacked with paper-thin tees and tanks, while Gabby made a beeline for a rack of polo shirts. Charlotte steered Emma to a row of minidresses, pointing one out. “That lavender one would look amazing with your eyes,” she offered.

The girls convened in the curtained-off open-air dressing room surrounded by four three-way mirrors. When they tried on matching short skirts and flowing tops, it was as though a dozen Xerox copies were reflected back at them.

“That’s gorgeous, Mads,” Emma offered, eyeing the lime green cotton skirt Madeline had pulled on. It showed off her long, lithe, ballet-dancer legs.

“You should totally get it,” Charlotte said.

“I can’t,” Madeline mumbled.

“Why not?” A wrinkle formed on Charlotte’s brow. “Do you not have money? I’ll buy it for you.”

Madeline kicked it off. “It looks lame on me.”

“It does not!” Charlotte scooped the skirt off the ground. “I’m totally buying this.”

“Char, don’t bother,” Madeline snapped, an edge to her voice. “My dad will never let me wear it. He’ll say it’s too short.”

Charlotte let the skirt slip between her fingers, her mouth flattening into a straight line.

The dressing room fell silent. The girls turned away, busying themselves with their piles of clothing and looking anywhere but at Mads. The mention of Mr. Vega had that effect.

Emma pulled a lavender dress over her head, carefully sliding the spaghetti straps over her shoulders. The silk was soft against her skin, and the waist nipped perfectly, making Emma’s rail-thin body look a little curvier than usual.

“Ooh, Sutton!” Charlotte whistled.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Laurel trilled, seemingly forgetting her sibling jealousy.

Emma tried not to stare at herself too hard in the mirror, but she couldn’t help it. The dress made her look amazing. Sutton would have been used to trying on expensive clothing that made her look like a million bucks, but Emma had always settled for good-enough pieces from Goodwill or hand-me-downs from other foster kids. It felt so special to be in something that fit her like a glove.

Laurel placed her hand on Emma’s shoulder. “You know who would love you in that? Ethan.”

Emma flinched. “Excuse me?”

“I’ve seen him talking to you at school,” Laurel said. “It’s obvious he has a crush on you.”

Emma widened her eyes at Laurel, hoping she could telepathically tell her to shut up. But Laurel continued, winding a tendril of blonde hair around her fingers. “You know what you should do? Get him to invite you back to his place so you can steal his poems.”

“Ooh, you mean for the prank?” Lili said.

“Uh-huh,” Laurel said. “We need poems to publish online to make him look like a plagiarist. You’re the perfect person for it, Sutton, since he’s already got it bad for you.
And
you’re awfully good at stealing, that little slip-up at Clique aside.” Laurel bumped her hip.

Emma stared at her hard, anger boiling beneath her skin. Apparently, Laurel was still furious at her. Then again, she hadn’t said anything to get Thayer out of jail, which meant Laurel wasn’t letting up on the Ethan prank.

She straightened up, deciding not to let Laurel get the best of her. “If he notices his poems went missing, he’ll know it was me who took them.”

“Oh, you’ll figure out a way to go unnoticed,” Laurel trilled.

“C’mon, Sutton. This plan rocks.” Madeline grinned. “Maybe you should even invite him to come help us set up before the party, really make him think you’re friends. Besides, we’ll need the man power.”

Now everyone was staring at Emma. Beads of sweat pricked the back of her neck. In the mirror, she could see a bloom of red spreading across her cheeks.

They were interrupted by an ice-blonde salesgirl who popped her head around the dark velvet curtain and asked if they were buying anything. Charlotte handed her several shirts, a dress, and a pair of jeans. Madeline shoved the green skirt at her, saying she didn’t want it. The Twitter Twins both bought leggings. Emma stared down at her pile of clothes, her brain racing.
How
was she going to get out of this Ethan prank? She thought about what Ethan had said on the roof:
I want us to be totally honest with each other.
She wasn’t exactly holding up her end of the bargain.

“Sutton, you coming?”

Emma jumped and looked up. The dressing area was empty. Charlotte had poked her head back through the curtain, a strange look on her face. All of the other girls were standing at the register, clothes in their hands.

“Uh, sure,” Emma mumbled, scooping up the lavender dress and Sutton’s bag. As she sauntered toward the register, she felt Laurel staring at her, a smirk on her face. But then, she felt a second pair of eyes boring into her from the esplanade. She whipped around and squinted. This time, the figure wasn’t quick enough to hide. The hair on the back of her neck bristled. The person was definitely male. He stepped into full view and met Emma’s gaze. Emma gasped.

And so did I. It was Garrett, and he looked pissed. After a beat, he stormed away.

17

On Tuesday afternoon, the Hollier High tennis team was on the courts for a doubles scrimmage. The sky was blessedly cloudy, meaning it was actually bearable to play. The sounds of a pop XM radio station filled the air—Coach Maggie always liked to have upbeat music to get the girls moving. A giant tub of Gatorade sat on the sidelines, tubes of extra balls were tipped over by the trash can, and Maggie, who was wearing her ubiquitous Hollier Tennis polo and khaki parachute pants, strutted up and down the courts, surveying ground strokes and serves.

“Out!” Nisha Banerjee’s shrill voice sounded across the net from Emma. She pointed her shiny black racket at the white line and shot Emma a look that said
Too bad, bitch
. “And that’s the match!”

Laurel, who stood on the baseline at Nisha’s side, laughed mirthfully. “Not even Sutton Mercer could return that power serve!” She raised her hand and slapped Nisha’s in a high five.

“Looks like the best women won!” Nisha tossed her black ponytail over her shoulder.

Emma rolled her eyes as Nisha and Laurel pranced across the court with their rackets held high. Maggie had emailed the team the previous night with a list of who would be matched with whom for the scrimmage, and Laurel and Nisha had preplanned matching hot pink workout shorts, tight white tank tops, and green wristlet sweatbands.

The whole thing made me bristle. Since when was my sister allying with Nisha, my biggest rival? Obviously this whole Thayer thing was making her go to extremes.

Emma turned to Clara, the sophomore who’d been assigned as her doubles partner for the day. “Sorry. I was not playing well today.”

“No, Sutton, you were great!” Clara’s voice rose hopefully. She was pretty enough, with jet black hair, a perky, upturned nose, and startling blue eyes, but she had such a desperate look on her face. She’d been deferential to Emma all afternoon, complimenting her sucky serves, contesting calls against Emma’s shots even though it was clear they were out, telling Emma repeatedly how pretty her sparkly hairband was. It was ridiculous how scared of Sutton people were, tiptoeing around her like she had the run of the school.