Never Have I Ever (9 page)

Nisha inspected the photo and rolled her eyes. “Can’t you read?” she asked in a smart-ass tone. “It says August thirty-first.”

Nisha placed her palm between Emma’s shoulder blades and shoved her out the door. She slammed it before turning to face Emma. “Attending team activities is what being on a team
means
. At least for those of us who care about supporting one another.”

“Even Laurel was there,” Emma said slowly, lifting her eyes to meet Nisha’s.

A haughty grin widened on Nisha’s face as she glanced over Emma’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil! We were just talking about you.”

Emma whipped around. Laurel stood at the end of the hall, a red plastic cup in her hand. “You were?” she asked, her gaze bouncing between the two of them.

“I was just telling Sutton about the ah-
mazing
time we all had at my back-to-school tennis sleepover a few weeks ago,” Nisha chirped.

Laurel’s cheeks flushed and her plastic cup made a crinkling sound as she squeezed it tighter. “Oh,” she said quietly. Her eyes flickered to Emma and then to the mauve carpet lining Nisha’s hallway. “Oh, Sutton, I’m sorry, I . . .”

“Is it really
that
embarrassing?” Nisha slapped her arms to her sides. “You came, Laurel. I’d say you even had
fun
.”

Laurel’s mouth morphed from a smile to a frown to a wiggly line. “It was okay,” she whispered.

Nisha’s eyes gleamed triumphantly. She pulled on her bedroom doorknob one more time for good measure and pushed past Emma and Laurel. She glanced at her father’s room, color draining from her face, and pulled that door shut, too.

After Nisha disappeared down the hall, Laurel peeked at Emma sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Sutton. I know you and Nisha hate each other. But I thought the sleepover was mandatory. I didn’t know you and Charlotte weren’t going to come. Please don’t be mad at me.”

More giggles erupted from the den. The wind gusted outside, pressing up against the windows. Maybe the real Sutton would have been pissed to find out what Nisha had just told her—clearly Laurel hadn’t admitted she’d gone to Nisha’s tennis party because Sutton’s friends were supposed to be united in Nisha-hate. Sutton might’ve interpreted this as betrayal.

But Emma was delighted—
relieved.
Laurel attending Nisha’s tennis team sleepover meant she had an airtight alibi for the thirty-first. Neither she—nor Nisha—could have killed Sutton.

“It’s fine,” Emma said to Laurel, throwing her arms around Sutton’s sister’s neck so hard she knocked her off balance.

“Sutton?” Laurel said, her voice muffled in the sleeve of Emma’s flowy lavender top.

I twirled in an invisible circle next to the two of them. This was even better than clearing Charlotte and Madeline. My own sister was
innocent
.

Chapter 14
Double the Trouble

“What’s all
that
?” Madeline asked as she flung open the door to her house and stared at Laurel, Emma, and Charlotte on the porch. It was Saturday afternoon, and all three carried paint-spattered jeans, grubby T-shirts, and old sneakers.

“Our costumes for when we go home.” Laurel set the dirty clothes on the porch swing. “I told my mom that Char and I were volunteering with the Habitat for Humanity house-painting crew today. I said Sutton should come, too—I promised it would be a
rewarding experience
for her.”

“The lengths we go to free you, Sutton,” Madeline said dramatically, batting a long black braid over her shoulder.

Charlotte winked at Emma, and Emma giggled. She didn’t have to hold her breath around them anymore; they were Sutton’s friends, not her killers. She was so grateful she’d let Laurel have the last low-fat muffin this morning, and she’d given Charlotte a huge hug as soon as they’d gotten in her car. “
Someone’s
cheerful this morning,” Charlotte had commented. “Are you in love?”

Now Emma glanced around. This was the first time she’d been in Madeline’s house, a bungalow with authentic adobe walls, an old-school, pueblo-style fireplace, and a Mexican-tiled kitchen with cheerful red pendant lights. Outside the window was a stunning view of the Catalina Mountains; Emma could just make out a line of people hiking on one of the upper trails.

“C’mon.” Madeline grabbed a big bowl of popcorn from the kitchen island and padded into the den. Corduroy couches surrounded a large flat-screen TV in the corner. Scattered between wooden wall placards that said things like
BLESS OUR HAPPY HOME
and
WE ARE FAMILY
were framed photographs of Madeline and her brother, Thayer.

Emma moved closer to the photos and tried to inspect them without Madeline noticing. There were pictures of Thayer in soccer gear. Thayer standing in front of a local Italian restaurant, pretending to take a big bite out of a large cardboard pizza sign. Thayer standing on top of a mountainous desert rock, dressed in a red T-shirt and khaki cargo shorts. The wind blew his black hair into his warm, hazel eyes, and there was a whisper of a smile on his clear-skinned, strong-jawed face. Every shot showed him grinning at the camera except one: a photo taken of the group, going to a prom. Sutton and Garrett stood together, dressed in formal wear. Madeline was with Ryan Jeffries, who Emma recognized from school, and Charlotte was with a dark-haired guy Emma didn’t know. Thayer stood a little off to the side, his arms crossed over his well-fitted tux. His eyes were narrowed and his face was hard, like he was trying to look debonair.
Mysterious Boy Disappears Without a Trace
, Emma thought, giving the photo a caption.

But something in Thayer’s expression stirred an emotion deep inside of me. Thayer wasn’t trying to look debonair—he was pissed. But what was he pissed
about
?

Who are you?
Emma wished she could ask the boy in the photos.
Why did you leave? And why, every time I see a picture you, do I get the chills?

That made two of us.

Madeline aimed the remote at the TV, and
Jersey Shore
appeared on the screen. She opened a big white binder labeled
HALLOWEEN HOMECOMING
in bright orange letters. “Okay. Char, are we all set with the decorator?”

“Check.” Charlotte nodded, pulling her light yellow shorts down over her thighs as she sat on the shaggy cream carpet. “Her name’s Calista—my mom’s used her for lots of parties. We’re doing cauldrons, skeletons, werewolves, and a haunted house. The rest of the gym is going to look like MI6 in L.A. Dark and sexy.”

“A perfect place to sneak booze,” Madeline piped up.

“
Or
a perfect place to hook up with someone who isn’t your date,” Charlotte added. Then she turned to Emma. “Don’t get any ideas, Sutton.”

Emma didn’t bother protesting. Let Charlotte make her jabs; she knew now that they didn’t mean anything.

“Now we need a theme for this court fete,” Laurel said.

Charlotte rolled her eyes. “It’s so stupid the court fete has to have a different theme than the dance. Sometimes I want to kill the seniors who came up with that tradition.”

Madeline walked to the window and heaved it open with her long, slender arms. “Oh, let’s just plan it and get it over with. I say it should be something spooky yet glam, but not so glam that the faculty will be pissed and not let us do it.”

Laurel propped her legs up on the coffee table. “What about vampires?”

“Ugh.” Madeline made a face. “I’m tired of vampires.”

“What about a gala event for the dead?” Emma said. “You know, a really fancy party, except everyone invited is a corpse?”

Charlotte narrowed her eyes, thinking.

“Wish you’d thought of it yourself, don’t you, Char?” Emma teased. She knew it was something Sutton would say.

Charlotte just shrugged. “It’s interesting,” she admitted. “But it should be rooted in something real. Not just a party full of dead people.”

A thought popped into Emma’s mind. “What about a fancy ball on the
Titanic
? Except it can be
after
the ship sank. So it can be at the bottom of the ocean, and everyone can be a corpse, but they’re still partying in high style. Something Kate Winslet’s character in the movie would’ve approved of.”

Laurel widened her eyes. “I like that!”

“Agreed.” Charlotte clapped her hands. “I bet Calista could rustle up some really good
Titanic
décor.”

Madeline reached into her pocket and extracted a pack of Parliaments and a pink lighter. A blue spark shot into the air, followed by the heady smell of cigarette smoke. “Anyone want one?” she asked, exhaling out the window.

Everyone shook their heads. “You should stop that, Mads.” Charlotte hugged a throw pillow. “What’s Davin going to say when he goes to kiss you and you smell like an ashtray?”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure I’m into him yet.” Smoke poured out of Madeline’s nose. “Maybe ashtray breath will keep him at bay.”

“Well, don’t breathe on me.” Charlotte formed her arms into an
X
and held them out in Madeline’s direction. “I don’t want anything ruining my chances of hooking up with Noah.”

“Who are you taking, Laurel?” Madeline asked.

Laurel ran a hand over a snag in the carpet. “Caleb Rosen.”

“Don’t know him,” Charlotte announced in a loud voice.

Madeline gave Laurel a tepid smile. “I have math with him,” she said. Her monotone made it unclear whether she approved or disapproved.

Emma blinked. “You guys have dates?”

Madeline ashed out the window. “You mean you
don’t
?”

“Well, I was going with Garrett,” Emma said, remembering the ticket Garrett had given her when they broke up. He and Sutton must have planned it before she vanished. “But then I got grounded. So I didn’t ask anyone else.”

Madeline blew a plume of smoke out the window. “Just ask someone, Sutton. Tons of guys would be thrilled to go with you.”

Emma stared at the back issues of
National Geographic
and
Motor Trend
that lined the bookshelf. She wondered if school dances were Ethan’s thing. “I can’t think of anyone,” she said after a moment.

I wanted to elbow her. Sutton Mercer did
not
go stag to dances. Madeline gestured a wide arc with her cigarette like she was doing the top half of a ballet move. “Really, Sutton? You don’t even have a little crush on someone?”

“Nope.”

Charlotte smacked Emma with a pillow. “Stop lying. Laurel told us.”

Emma stared at Laurel, but Laurel just raised her shoulders unapologetically. “I know you snuck into that pool with someone. I
heard
you guys.”

“Spill it!” Madeline’s eyes twinkled.

Heat flooded Emma’s cheeks. “It’s no one, I swear.”

“Come on, Sutton!” Laurel pressed her palms together. “You can tell us!”

Emma ran her tongue over her teeth. Did she dare tell them about Ethan? They were Sutton’s friends, after all, not her murderers. And now that Emma had cleared them, they’d begun to feel like
her
friends, too.

Tell them
, I wished I could say. My friends would probably encourage Emma to get over her oh-so-
un
-Sutton-Mercer shyness and ask Ethan out. Sure Ethan was a loner, but he was a hot loner.

Suddenly, the front door slammed. “Hello?” a man’s voice called out.

Madeline leapt up, stabbed out the cigarette on the windowsill, and fanned the fumes outside. There were footsteps, and then Mr. Vega peered into the den. “Oh. Hello, girls. Madeline didn’t tell me you were coming over today.”

“They’re just here to plan the Homecoming dance, Daddy,” Madeline said, jumping from the window seat to the La-Z-Boy chair. Her face was even paler than usual.

Mr. Vega turned and gave her a long, discerning stare. He tilted his nostrils up and sniffed the air. “Was someone smoking?” The transformation of Mr. Vega’s stony face into a fiery scowl now reminded Emma of Mr. Smythe, another one of her foster dads. He was like Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde: sweet one moment and volatile the next. The only way Emma could tell he was going to freak out was when he started feverishly licking his lips.

Madeline shook her head. “Of course not!”

“It’s from outside,” Charlotte said at the same time. “A bunch of kids walked by, and they were all smoking.”

A neutral look settled over Mr. Vega’s face again, but his eyes still burned. “Well, if you girls need anything, I’ll be in my office.” Then he eyed the episode of
Jersey Shore
on TV. “You shouldn’t watch that trash, Madeline.”

Madeline clicked the remote. A chase scene of a male lion taking down a frantic zebra filled the screen. After he left, Charlotte walked over and touched Madeline’s arm.

A tinny
bleep
issued from Madeline’s iPhone, which sat facedown on the coffee table. Everyone started. She grabbed it and studied the screen. “Surprise, surprise.
Another
text from Lili and Gabby. They’ve been begging to come to Mount Lemmon with us all day.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Charlotte said.

Sutton’s phone, which Mrs. Mercer had let Emma have back in case of an emergency, rang, too. Emma pulled it from her bag.
HELLO, SWEETS!
Gabby wrote.
YOU TOTALLY WANT TO BE US, DON’T YOU? THAT MAKES THREE OF US—WE LOVE US, TOO! MWAH!

Charlotte groaned as she read her BlackBerry. “If they were any more full of themselves, they’d have to have ego liposuction.”

Their phones lit up once more.
GUESS THE
l
IN LYING GAME STANDS FOR
loser
!

“
That’s
not cool.” Laurel jabbed at her phone to delete the message. “If they keep this up no one will ever vote for them again.”

“I don’t know how they got voted in at
all
,” Charlotte mused, fiddling with a ceramic donkey statue on the coffee table. “I took a look at the ballots online—Isabel Girard and Kaitlin Pierce were also on it, and guys are much more into them than Gabby and Lili.”

“I vote we stop hanging out with them.” Madeline reached for a handful of popcorn.

“I second that,” Emma said quickly, remembering Gabby’s eerie gun-trigger gesture at lunch the other day.

I third that
, I thought.

The phones beeped once more, and everyone diverted their attention to their screens.
TWO PRETTY COURT GIRLS DESERVE A SMOKIN’ PARTY! STEP IT UP, BITCHES!

“You know what I think we should do?” Madeline leaned back on the couch and curled her knees to her chest. “We should knock those princesses down to size. Hit ’em where it hurts.”

“A prank?” Laurel’s eyebrows shot up.

Emma shifted her weight. “I don’t think so. . . .” She thought about the file at the police station—Gabby going to the hospital, all of it being Sutton’s fault. She still hadn’t figured out how Gabby had gotten hurt, but a trip to the ER couldn’t have been good. “It might be going too far. Especially after what happened . . .” She let her voice trail off and gazed out the window, figuring Sutton’s friends knew far more about the train incident than she did.

Sutton’s friends were silent. Laurel stared at her hands and picked at a cuticle. Madeline flipped through her binder. “Oh please,” Charlotte finally said. “Now that you’re all buddy-buddy with them, they’re off-limits?”

Emma raised an eyebrow.
Buddy-buddy?
Not from what she’d noticed of the Twins.

Charlotte draped her arms over the top of the couch. “They said they shoplifted with you at Clique,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Gabby and Lili bragged about it like it was the
coolest
thing, like we all hadn’t done it a million times before.”

Madeline’s mouth dropped open. “Were they with you the other day when you got arrested?”

“No, not that time,” Emma said quickly, her mind racing.

“It was before that,” Charlotte butted in.

Emma turned away, needing a moment to process all of this. According to Sutton’s credit card statement, the last time Sutton was at Clique was on the thirty-first. And Samantha at Clique had said Sutton stole something from the store while she’d been with someone else—or, more specifically, a posse of someones.
And
the very last phone call Sutton picked up on the thirty-first was from Lili.

“Yeah, I went to Clique with them right before school started,” Emma said slowly.

All of a sudden, a memory ignited in my mind: Gabby and Lili, flanking me behind a rack of silky camisoles and lingerie at Clique. “Do it, Sutton,” Gabby had whispered, her warm, mint-scented breath on my neck.

“C’mon, Sutton,” Laurel urged. “Those bitches deserve to be pranked.”

The room still smelled slightly of smoke. On the television, a lion sunned itself in the grass, blood from a fresh kill on its lips. Emma ran her fingers through her hair, her chest feeling hot and tight. Puzzle pieces began to slot into place. The Twitter Twins had been in all the right places at all the right times—with Sutton the night she died, in Madeline’s car the night Emma was kidnapped and mistaken for Sutton, at Charlotte’s sleepover when Emma had been strangled.