Never Have I Ever

Chapter 20 Creepy Vampires to the Left, Stalkers to the Right

“Velcome!” A pimply-faced teenager in a satin Dracula cape, plastic fangs, and a penciled-in widow’s peak leapt into the doorway of Scare-O-Rama, Tucson’s best-stocked Halloween store. “Can I help you? You girls look good enough to bite!” When he laughed, he sounded like the Count from Sesame Street.

“Ew, no!” Laurel said, brushing past him. Dracula covered half his face with his cape, shunned vampire-style, and scooted away to his perch behind the counter.

It was Thursday after school, and Emma and Laurel were on the hunt for their Homecoming costumes. Truthfully, all Emma had wanted to do for the rest of the night was lie in Sutton’s bed in a tight, safe ball and thank her lucky stars that the light fixture hadn’t been a couple of inches to the left, but she’d finally relented after Laurel’s constant badgering. The dance was tomorrow, after all—time was running out. And even if she didn’t have a date, she had to attend in style. But just venturing into the world felt dangerous, like Lili and Gabby could be anywhere or do anything.

Emma kept checking their private Twitter accounts, but they hadn’t posted anything new since Gabby’s tweet that afternoon. She needed more on them—something concrete, unequivocal. But she’d scoured Sutton’s bedroom, house, iPhone, social networking sites, two lockers, and everywhere else she could think of.

Laurel took Emma’s arm and guided her to the racks of costumes cramming nearly every inch of the store. Pitchforks, sparkly top hats, slasher masks, and spiders hung on the wall. Fun-house mirrors made Emma’s body look either lumpish or taffy-stretched. Predictably, “Monster Mash” blared over the stereo, and Dracula and his coworker—a tall girl stuffed into a leather bustier—bobbed along to the beat. Laurel strode up to a rack of southern belle hoop skirts and touched the faux taffeta. “I’m thinking of something retro.” She tied a bonnet under her chin and posed to the right and left. “What do you think? Is it me?”

Despite her exhaustion, Emma smiled. “It’s definitely you.” They both collapsed into giggles. For once, Emma actually felt close to Laurel, almost like she was a real sister. The only thing missing here was Sutton herself.

What I wouldn’t give for Emma, Laurel, and me to be shopping together right now, trying on stupid witch hats and fake noses. Having a true blood sister would change so much. Emma and I would be instant family, a different kind than I’d ever experienced. There would be no jealousy that my parents loved her more than me. We would be bound together always; I would try my hardest for us to have the best relationship possible.

Emma and Laurel sifted through Madonna cone-boob corsets, French maid outfits, and a rack of pink tutus Emma would’ve begged Becky to buy for her when she was four years old. A few minutes into their search, Laurel pulled out a leopard’s costume and shook her head as she examined it. “This isn’t right either. It needs to be perfect.”

“It’s just a dance,” Emma murmured. “What’s the big deal?”

There was a screech of metal as Laurel moved a cluster of hangers to the left. “Caleb really likes Halloween. And I want everything to be just right.” She bit her lip.

Emma couldn’t help but smile. “Do you like him?”

Embarrassment flickered across Laurel’s face. “I know he tells really dorky jokes. And I know it’s not so great that he’s only on JV tennis. But he’s so nice. We have fun together.”

It took Emma a few moments to realize that Laurel was seeking her approval, apologizing for choosing a guy who might not be up to their clique’s standards. “If you guys have fun together, that’s what’s important,” she said, shooting Laurel a genuine smile. “I think he’s supercute.”

Laurel brightened. “Really?”

Emma nodded. “Really.”

The corners of Laurel’s lips twitched into a relieved smile. I could tell how much Emma’s words meant to her. It was the kind of encouragement I’d clearly never given her when I was around.

The next rack of costumes contained bikini tops, angel wings, hot pants, and thigh-high boots. “So, does Caleb like you back?” Emma asked.

Laurel flicked a feather on the brim of a flapper headband. “According to Gabby and Lili, he’s interested.”

Emma tried to keep her face neutral. She didn’t want Laurel to see her flinch at the mention of the Twins’ names.

Then Laurel let out a wary laugh. “Hopefully they’re not lying to me as revenge for attempting to get them on-stage in thongs.”

At least they didn’t try to drop a giant light on your head. “Do you think they’ve forgiven us for the prank?” Emma asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Laurel held a blood-spattered wedding dress to her torso and nodded. “After the party kicked into gear, they said they thought the prank was really funny. I can’t believe they knew we were up to something. I thought we covered our bases. Maybe we’ve underestimated them.”

That’s an understatement, I thought.

Emma ran her finger over a sequined bowler hat. “So were Gabby and Lili in the auditorium the whole time I was in the nurse’s office?” The shuffling noises in the hall zipped through her mind. Those bits of glass on the floor. The eerie sense someone had been there listening, watching.

“Yeah . . .” Laurel squinted at her. “Why?”

Emma kept her gaze glued on a stack of food-themed costumes: a phallic orange carrot, a round donut with leechlike felt pink sprinkles, and a Hershey’s Kiss. “I thought I saw Gabby in the hall, that’s all.”

Laurel grinned. “Maybe it was a ghost!” she said in a teasing, ghoulish voice, pointing to a Ghostface mask from Scream.

I wanted to burst out laughing; little did Laurel know the truth. But the ghost Emma heard in that hall was definitely not me.

Laurel assessed the bloody wedding dress once more and draped it over her arm. “This could work. So are you taking a date? Maybe someone named Alllex, perhaps?” She stretched out the name and playfully punched Emma on the arm.

“Alex is just a friend,” Emma said quickly, turning away.

“Yeah, right!”

“Seriously. Like I said, she’s from tennis camp. And she’s a girl. Short for Alexandra.”

Laurel cocked her head and gave Emma a dubious look. “A girl who’s thinking of you and can’t wait to talk?” she asked, reciting the lines from Alex’s text.

The bells to the store jingled, and a man in a pin-striped suit with two small blond boys entered. The kids ran for the rack of army uniforms and started shooting each other with the plastic machine guns. Emma watched them snake around the racks, fully aware that Laurel’s expectant gaze hadn’t left her face. Emma knew if she didn’t give her gossip soon, she’d continue to pester her relentlessly. The more questions she asked, the more specifics Emma fabricated, the more opportunity Laurel had to catch Emma in a lie.

Emma took a deep breath and turned around. “Okay. There is a guy I’ve been hanging around with.”

Laurel’s eyes lit up. “Who?”

“Ethan.”

“Ethan . . . who?”

“Landry.” It felt strange and nerve-racking to say his name out loud.

The smile on Laurel’s face was uncertain, slightly amused. “Seriously?”

Emma stiffened, feeling vulnerable. It felt like she’d whipped off the Sutton mask and Laurel was suddenly looking at her. “We’re just friends,” she said as casually as she could. “We hang out sometimes.”

“But Ethan Landry isn’t friends with people.” Laurel still sounded incredulous. “He’s Mr. I-Vant-to-Be-Alone.”

The little boys raced around the Halloween shop as though it were a war zone. Their father slapped an Amex on the counter and gave an apologetic look to the girl in the leather bustier. “Well, I guess he’s changed,” Emma said.

“I suppose you’d be the perfect person to change him, Sutton.” Laurel got in line to pay for the wedding dress. “You should tell everyone you’re into him! It would do wonders for his popularity!”

“I don’t think Ethan cares about that,” Emma pointed out.

But Laurel didn’t seem to hear her. “You should invite him to Homecoming!”

The earnestness in Laurel’s voice tugged at Emma’s heart. If she’d asked Ethan just days before, maybe they’d be going together.

“Ethan has a date already,” Emma said flatly.

“So make him break it off with her!” Laurel handed a credit card to Dracu-Dork. He slipped the dress into a yellow plastic bag without taking his eyes off Laurel. “You’ve done it before!” Laurel went on. “Look, Sutton, I’ve seen him staring at you at school. And when he showed up to your party with those flowers . . . it’s obvious he’s got it bad for you.”

“You think?” Emma toyed with a loose thread at the hem of her shirt.

“I do,” Laurel said firmly.

Emma reached out and took Laurel’s hand, suddenly feeling a flood of warmth and protectiveness for her. Gabby and Lili, two girls Laurel was close friends with, might have killed Laurel’s sister. Was it right to keep that from her?

Laurel looked down at Emma’s fingers holding hers. “What’s that for?” she asked softly.

“Laurel, I . . .” Emma started. Maybe she should tell her. Maybe Laurel deserved to know.

Sutton’s sister grabbed the bloody wedding dress from the counter. “Yeah?”

There was a trusting smile on her face. Her big blue eyes blinked slowly. The words welled in Emma’s throat, ready to spill forth, but then Sutton’s iPhone beeped, breaking the silence. Emma peeked at the screen. It was another text from Alex. GOING FOR A CHICKEN MOLE BURRITO! JEALOUS? she wrote. Attached was a photo of Alex standing in front of Loco Mexico, a dive restaurant she and Emma had been obsessed with—they made the best guacamole in town. Emma was about to slip it back into her bag when a rusty sign next to Loco Mexico caught her eye. RAPID TOW IMPOUND SERVICES. A bunch of cars lurked behind a chain-link fence.

Alarms blared in Emma’s head. The impound lot. Sutton’s car was there. It was somewhere Emma hadn’t yet looked—what if there was something in it, something specific that linked the Twitter Twins to Sutton’s murder?

“Laurel,” Emma said again, turning back to Sutton’s sister as they made their way out of the store. “Can you take me to the impound? I think it’s time to get my car.”

Laurel’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, as though she hadn’t expected this. But then she shook her head and glanced at her watch. “I can’t today. My calc study group starts in twenty minutes. Maybe tomorrow?”

“No need,” said a voice behind Emma. “We’ll take you right now.”

Emma spun around, and her jaw dropped. There, standing on the curb in the blinding Tucson sunset, were the Twitter Twins.

Grinning at Emma, I thought, like a pair of lionesses that had just cornered their prey.