Wanted (11 page)

“Oh my God,” Emily whispered. The peanut butter crackers she’d eaten earlier roiled in her stomach.

“Then when the twin they thought was Ali didn’t come home from the sleepover, they flipped out. They figured I was Courtney, and that I had done something terrible. They couldn’t handle having a sick daughter home while the other was missing, so they sent the girl they thought was her back to the Preserve the next afternoon. Except…it was
me
.” She placed her palm over her heart, her eyes filling with tears. “It was
horrible
. They didn’t visit me once. Jason used to visit Courtney all the time, but even he wouldn’t listen to me when I pleaded that I was Ali. It was like a light switch went off in their heads and I was dead to them.”

The neighbor’s rattling Honda Civic passed. A dog barked, then another. Emily stared at the girl across from her. The girl who claimed to be
Ali.
“But…why didn’t you call us before they shipped you off?” Emily asked. “We would’ve known the truth.”

“My parents wouldn’t let me use the phone. And then at the hospital, I wasn’t allowed to make any calls. It was like being in prison.” Tears streamed down Ali’s face. “The more I said I was Ali, the sicker everyone thought I was. I realized that the only way to get out was to act like I really
was
Courtney. My parents still don’t know who I am. If I tell them, they might send me back.” She hiccupped. “I just want my life again.”

Emily offered her a Kleenex from a box on her nightstand, and then took one herself. “So whose body did the police find?”

“Courtney’s. We’re twins, so we have the same DNA. We even have the same dental records.” She gazed at Emily in grief and desperation. “I remember everything about you, Emily.
I
was the one who did that dance when we smoked the dandelion seeds.
I’m
the one in these photos on your wall. I remember how we met, and I especially remember you and me, in my tree house, kissing.”

The smell of vanilla soap filled Emily’s nostrils. She closed her eyes, practically seeing the stunned look on Ali’s face after she’d kissed her. She and Ali had never directly discussed it. There were plenty of times Emily had wanted to, but she’d been too afraid. Ali had started teasing her about it so quickly afterward.

“I was talking about an older boy I liked,” Ali rehashed, “and then suddenly, you kissed me. I got all self-conscious and scared, but then you wrote that note to me. The one that said how much you liked me. I loved it, Em. I’d never gotten a note like that from anyone in my life.”

“Really?” Emily traced a heart into her duvet cover. “I figured you thought I was a freak.”

Ali winced. “I was scared. And stupid. I acted like an idiot. But I had almost four long years in the hospital to think it over.” She placed her palms on her knees. “What more do I need to say to make you believe me? What can I do to prove that
I’m
Ali?”

Emily’s lips still tingled from the kiss, and her hands and legs were trembling with shock. But as stunning as this was, she’d known, deep down, that something about Courtney was amiss. She’d felt that special spark between them, like they’d known each other for years. And they
had
.

Emily had dreamed of this moment for years. She’d consulted horoscopes and tarot cards and numerological charts, desperate for a clue that Ali was alive. She’d saved every single one of Ali’s notes, random doodles, and just-’cause-I-feel-like-it gifts, unable to let them go because a deep, mystical force inside her urged that this wasn’t over. Ali was still out there. She was okay.

And all this time, Emily had been right. She’d been granted her biggest wish of all.

The clouds lifted from her head. Emily’s heart banged out a constant, steady beat, clear and pure. She gave Ali a wobbly smile. “Of course I believe you,” she said, throwing her arms around her old friend. “I’m so glad you came back.”

13

BLAST FROM THE PAST

Spencer adjusted the scoop neck of her Milly halter dress and flashed a fake ID to a bald bouncer at Paparazzi, a two-story club in Old City, Philadelphia. The bouncer studied it, nodded, and handed it back to Spencer.
Sweet.

Next came Courtney, dressed in a gorgeous gold minidress. Courtney showed the bouncer an old fake ID of Melissa’s, and the bouncer nodded her through. Emily pulled up the rear, looking surprisingly sexy in a red A-line dress, a bold beaded necklace, and strappy silver heels she’d borrowed from Courtney’s closet. Courtney had called Spencer an hour before they were supposed to leave for their big night out, saying that she and Emily had really hit it off and that she wanted to invite Emily to go dancing with them. Spencer didn’t mind—now that she’d bonded with Ali’s twin, she wanted everyone else to love her just as much.

Emily handed the bouncer her older sister’s fake ID, and after the bouncer nodded inattentively and handed it back, the three of them pushed inside. “We are going to have an awesome time,” Courtney said, grabbing their hands. “I am
so
excited.”

“Me too,” Emily said, giving Courtney a long, meaningful look. Spencer couldn’t help but smirk. It looked like Emily’s crush on Ali had transferred over to her twin sister.

It was crowded for a Wednesday night. The club was in an old bank with marble pillars, intricate woodwork, and a mezzanine level that looked over the dance floor. A Black Eyed Peas song was playing at a deafening volume, and a bunch of college-age kids were writhing around enthusiastically, not caring that they had no rhythm—or that they were spilling their drinks all over themselves. The place smelled overwhelmingly like beer, cologne, and too many bodies in too small a space. A bunch of guys turned when they saw Spencer and her friends, their eyes instantly zeroing in on Courtney’s blond hair, her slim hips, the way her dress skimmed her thighs. Everyone knew who she was. It was a wonder the news vans hadn’t arrived yet.

Courtney leaned over the bar and ordered them three raspberry martinis. She returned with three pinkish drinks. “Bottoms up, ladies.”

“I don’t know…” Spencer said uncertainly.

“Yeah!” Emily said at the same time. Spencer gaped at her. Who
was
this girl, and what had she done with the old Emily?

“You’re outvoted!” Courtney grinned. “Ready, set, chug!”

Spencer good-naturedly tilted the drink to her lips, letting the tart liquid spill down her throat. When she finished, she wiped her mouth and let out a whoop.

The others finished their drinks, too, and Courtney flagged down a seven-foot-tall bartender who looked suspiciously like a drag queen. “Let’s dance!” she said after handing them their second rounds. They shimmied toward the dance floor and began to gyrate to “Hollaback Girl.” Courtney stretched her arms over her head and closed her eyes. Emily swayed back and forth to the beat.

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?”

Courtney made a pinched face, as if she’d done a shot of Sour Apple Pucker schnapps. “I lost the ring the morning before our sleepover. I’m sure my sister stole it.”

“
I
don’t remember you wearing it that night,” Emily said quickly.

Spencer shot Emily a look. Of course Emily wanted to believe this was Ali—this was what she’d wanted for the past four years. But as Spencer struggled to remember, she wasn’t sure, either.
Had
Ali worn her ring the night of their sleepover?

A bunch of spiky-haired guys in button-downs passed by, looking as though they wanted to approach and hit on them, but they must have sensed something weird was going down and ambled away. Courtney took Spencer’s hands. “Remember that day we fought in the barn? I’ve thought about that for three and a half years. I’m so sorry. And I’m sorry about other stuff I did, too—like hanging my JV hockey uniform in my window so you’d see. I
knew
it got to you. But I was jealous…and insecure. I always worried that you deserved to be on the hockey team, not me.”

Spencer clutched the seat of the leather-upholstered booth, trying to breathe.
Anyone
could’ve known about the fight in the barn—Spencer had had to relay that information to the police. But the hockey uniform in the window? That was something Spencer hadn’t even told her friends.

“And I’m sorry about all that stuff with Ian, too,” Courtney—or was it really Ali?—said. “I shouldn’t have said I was going to tell Melissa you two had kissed when
I
was the one in a relationship with him. And I shouldn’t have said that I’d made him kiss you. That wasn’t even true.”

Spencer gritted her teeth, all the shameful, angry feelings from that fight bubbling up again. “Gee, thanks.”