Never Have I Ever

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 syllables 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 really 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 hallways 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 fake-happy, 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 football 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.

Garrett and Nisha.

Today, Nisha wore a fitted kelly-green tennis sweater and Lacoste sneakers and a glare that made Emma’s blood run cold. Even though Emma hadn’t realized they were friends, Garrett sat hip-to-hip with Nisha, his needling gaze on Emma, too. His disgusted expression seemed to say I know about you. I know about Ethan.

Could Garrett know? Had he been the one idling outside the Paulsons’ pool last night? Maybe he and Nisha had been there together. Emma gave Garrett a small, hopeful wave, but Garrett just shook his head ever so slightly and whispered something into Nisha’s ear. Nisha giggled at whatever Garrett said and smirked at Emma.

Suddenly, Emma couldn’t take their little secrets anymore. Balling her fist, she glared at the petite, dark-haired girl. “Can I help you with something, Nisha?” she asked, not bothering to hide her sarcasm.

Nisha flashed a saccharine smile and inched closer to Garrett, resting her bloodred fingernails possessively on his arm. “I was just about to remind you that the mandatory team dinner is at my house on Friday. I mean, I would’ve involved you in the planning, but who knows if you’ll even show?”

Emma bristled. “Well, maybe I’d show if you ever threw something worth attending.”

Good for you, Em, I thought. Emma was getting better at standing her ground and summoning her inner me. Maybe there was some truth to that nature versus nurture debate after all.

Then Nisha’s gaze brightened at someone behind Emma. “You’re coming, aren’t you, Laurel? Or will Sutton not allow it?”

Emma turned to see Laurel plopping her lunch tray down on the table. Laurel shot daggers in Nisha’s direction, saying nothing. “Since when are team dinners mandatory?” she muttered under her breath. “Someone needs to tell her that just because she’s cocaptain doesn’t make her queen.”

“She’s just pissed because Sutton didn’t show up last time.” Charlotte dropped into a seat, too, slapping a striped canvas lunch bag on the table. She looked at Emma. “If you don’t want us to go to this one, Sutton, we won’t.”

Laurel turned to Emma and nodded, too. Emma had noticed that, as the de facto Lying Game leader, Sutton’s friends always deferred to her.

But I wasn’t sure they were thrilled about that. Charlotte stared at Emma wearily, as though she was tired of Sutton Mercer’s mercurial rules and regulations.

“So where were you today?” Madeline interrupted, sliding into the bench next to Emma. “Why weren’t you at The Hub?”

Emma squinted. “We were supposed to meet at The Hub?” That was the name of the school store and coffee bar next to the cafeteria. The place mostly sold Hollier sweatshirts, dance raffle tickets, and Number 2 pencils.

“For Court planning, yes! Hello, tradition?” Madeline handed Emma a coffee from a cardboard carrier. “Whatever. I got a latte for you. I guess someone’s a little distracted today, huh? Perhaps from her time in the slammer last night?”

Laurel opened her Sprite Zero with a sharp thwock. “I told them about it this morning.” She held Emma’s gaze, innocently batting her eyelashes as if to say, And guess what else I’ll tell?

“Apparently you weren’t going to.” Charlotte rested her hands on a Tupperware container full of spinach salad. “What happened?”

Madeline fidgeted with a plastic knife, running her fingers along the jagged edge. “Since when do you shoplift without us?” She looked annoyed, like Emma had slighted her.

“And getting caught at Clique?” Charlotte clucked her tongue. “We had that place mastered by eighth grade!”

“Laurel told me you took a Tori Burch clutch.” Madeline wrinkled her nose. “Sutton, Tori is not worth stealing.”

Emma removed the top from her coffee cup, and steam billowed into her face. “You know how it is when you’ve just got to have something,” she said vaguely. “I would’ve totally gotten away with it, too, if the bitch working the register had been actually doing her job instead of obsessing over me. I think she has a little crush.”

“Someone’s losing her touch,” Charlotte sing-songed, biting into a carrot with a decisive crunch. She seemed almost happy Emma had gotten caught.

Emma took a dainty sip of the latte and winced—it was piping hot. “I’ve blown my chances for going to Homecoming. I’m grounded for the next millennium.”

“Oh please. You’re going.” Madeline popped a yogurt-covered raisin into her mouth. “We’ll find a way. And you’re going camping with us afterward, too.”

Then, Madeline snickered at something behind her. “CourtZillas at twelve o’clock.”

Even though the twins traditionally dressed like opposites—Gabby had a Stepford Wife thing going, with preppy headbands and grosgrain-piped everything, and Lili went for the Taylor Momsen look, with plaid flannels, über-short skirts, and lots of raccoonish eye makeup—today they both wore tight-fitting pink dresses with frothy tulle skirts and mile-high platform heels that laced up their thin ankles. As usual, they clutched their iPhones. Everyone—from the band kids in the corner to the sullen, arty types by the stucco wall—stared at them.

“Hi, girls!” Gabby trilled as she reached their table.

“Ciao!” Lili said. “Did someone say camping? Where are we going this year?”

“We are camping at Mount Lemmon,” Charlotte said pointedly. “I don’t know where you are camping.”

“That’s too bad,” Lili said just as pointedly back. “Because we’re the only ones who know where the best hot springs are.”

“And we’ve got an adorable little hibachi grill. We could make s’mores,” Gabby added.

“I don’t know if starting a fire in the desert is the best idea.” Laurel smirked.

Emma ran her tongue over her teeth as she stared at the girls, thinking of their car slowly passing Sutton’s house. Had they been the ones lurking outside Sutton’s house last night, watching her and Ethan swim?

Madeline appraised their outfits. “Voting for court already happened, ladies. You don’t have to dress like Homecoming Barbies anymore.”

“Maybe we like it.” Lili put her hands on her bony hips. “So, girls. Have you figured out the plans for our ceremony yet?”

“It’d better be good,” Gabby jumped in, chomping hard on a piece of gum. The scent of watermelon wafted through the air. “Servants . . . awesome food and music . . . and perhaps a Lying Game initiation ceremony as the cherry on top?” Gabby ticked off each request on her fingers.

“We have some killer prank ideas,” Lili said, a glint dancing in her light eyes.

“We’d be an asset to the group,” Gabby said in a low voice, staring directly at Emma. Emma drew back slightly, her heart speeding up just a tick. Gabby pulled a tiny bottle from the pocket of her dress, flicked open the pink lid, and placed a round pill on her tongue. Her throat rose as she swallowed. Her gaze never left Emma’s, as though passing an unspoken message between them.

“No can do on the Lying Game invite, ladies,” Emma said, trying to sound confident and poised. Sutton hadn’t allowed Gabby and Lili into the club before—maybe for a good reason.

Gabby’s eyes flickered over Emma’s body, as if sizing her up for a fight. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?” she said, her words suddenly hard.

Lili lightly touched Gabby’s wrist. “Chill, Gabs,” she said in a hushed voice. Then she yanked Gabby across the patio. “No autographs!” she called to their gaping classmates, shielding her face as though she was being chased by the paparazzi. As soon as Lili let go of her, Gabby spun around and made her finger into a gun, pointing at Emma and pretending to shoot. Emma’s mouth fell open.

A flash instantly swarmed my vision of me ushering the twins out of my room at a sleepover, simpering, “Sorry, girls. We have private Lying Game stuff to discuss. Stay out in the den with the other nobodies.” Gabby’s knuckles had gone white as she clutched her iPhone tighter. Then Lili had risen to full height. “Mark my words, Sutton, it won’t always be this way,” she’d spat.

But now, Madeline just rolled her eyes at the Twitter Twins. “Something’s gotten into those two lately. They’re crazier than ever.”

“That’s for sure,” Charlotte said, sipping her coffee and staring at the double doors the twins had disappeared through. “But they do have a point—we have to plan their ceremony.”

“Let’s do it Saturday.” Madeline stuffed her empty Tupperware container into her purse. “My house?”

“I can’t,” Emma said. “I’m grounded, remember?”

Charlotte let out a snort. “When has that ever stopped you?”

The bell rang, and everyone rose en masse, tossed their leftovers into the trash, and headed back into the school. Laurel and Charlotte split off in opposite directions, but Madeline hung back and waited for Emma to pack her bag so they could walk together.

They turned a corner into the music wing. Off-key notes blared from open doorways. At the end of the hall, Elvira handed out more flyers for the Homecoming dance. Her fake nose threatened to fall off her face, and a couple of kids snickered as they passed. Madeline glanced at Emma out of the corner of her eye.

“What’s with you lately?” Madeline asked, slowing their pace.

“What do you mean?” Emma replied, startled.

Madeline skirted around a girl struggling with a tuba case. “You’ve been . . . weird. Cautious, disappearing and not explaining why, shoplifting by yourself . . . Char and I think an alien life-form has come down and taken over your body.”

Emma felt a flush creep over her face and chest. Calm down, she said silently. She tugged on Sutton’s necklace, fighting for composure. And then she had an idea. “I guess I’m upset because you and Char seem to be really close lately,” she said in a pinched voice, trying to sound petulant and jealous. “Am I being replaced as your BFF?” She eyed Madeline’s tall ballet-dancer frame, clad in skinny cargo pants and a gray dolman-sleeve sweater, hoping she’d take the bait.

Madeline’s finely drawn features tightened. “Char and I have always been friends.”

“Yeah, but something has changed between you two,” Emma goaded. “You seem tight now. Does this have to do with the night before Nisha’s party? I know you were together, Mads.”

Madeline stopped short in the hall, letting students stream around them. A vein at her temple pulsed. “Would you lay off about that night?”

Emma blinked. A fire raging in her belly fueled her forward. “Why?”

“Because I don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

“But . . .”

“Just leave it, Sutton!” Madeline turned and blindly pushed through the nearest door, which led to the school library.

Emma shoved her shoulder against the library door and followed Madeline inside. Kids hunched over homework at long, wide desks. Computer screens glowed behind a wall of glass. The big room smelled like old books and the disinfectant spray-cleaner Travis used to huff.

Madeline disappeared down one of the back aisles.

“Mads!” Emma called, sweeping past a low shelf of atlases and encyclopedias. “Mads, come on!”

The librarian put her finger to her lips. “Quiet!” she ordered from behind the checkout desk.

Emma hurried past posters of the Twilight and Harry Potter series, which gave her a tiny twinge of longing. Becky used to read Harry Potter to her, making up the voices for each of the characters and wearing a dingy black velvet cape she’d picked up at a garage sale after Halloween. Emma had loved being read to; she didn’t care that the cape kind of smelled like mildew.

Emma turned down the aisle Madeline had veered into. Madeline had stopped at the very end of the row, next to a bunch of copies of The Riverside Shakespeare. Her long, dark hair cascaded down her back, her posture ramrod-straight.

All of a sudden I had a sharp, distinct memory of Madeline standing in that same taut but wounded pose. We were in her bedroom, and there was a commotion coming from down the hall, muffled voices gaining in volume. I’d heard tiny gasps, as though she was trying to stifle tears.

“Mads?” Emma whispered. Madeline didn’t answer. “Come on, Mads. Whatever I said, I’m sorry.”

Madeline whipped around and stared at Emma with red-rimmed eyes. “Look, I called you first, okay?” Her voice caught, and she pressed her lips together. “You didn’t answer. I guess you had more important things to do.”

She sniffed and took a choked breath. “The world doesn’t revolve around you, you know. I always jump when you tell me to jump, but it would be nice if you reciprocated sometimes. I called Charlotte next, and she stayed with me all night. So yeah, of course we’ve been tight lately. Satisfied?”

Steeling her jaw, Madeline swept past Emma as though she were a faceless student clogging up the library aisles.

“Mads!” Emma protested. But Madeline didn’t stop. She stormed through the doors and out into the hall.

Everyone in the library turned and stared at Emma. She ducked back into an aisle and leaned against a stack of books. Madeline was hiding something big, but it wasn’t what Emma thought. There was no faking the reaction Madeline just had. Whatever she’d dealt with the night Sutton went missing was her own issue, something completely divorced from what had happened to Sutton. Madeline was busy that night. Innocent. And now, because they were together, Charlotte likely was, too.

Relief washed over me, hard and fast. I wanted to cheer aloud. My two best friends were actually my best friends—not my murderers.

A series of shrill beeps sounded as the librarian scanned books for a scrawny red head. Emma turned to leave, but her knee caught the corner of a copy of The Riverside Shakespeare and knocked it to the floor. The book splayed open, its paper-thin pages full of highlights and notes from kids who didn’t seem to care that it was a library book. A line from Hamlet caught Emma’s eye, sending a chill up her spine.

One may smile, and smile, and be a villain.

It made me shiver, too. Charlotte and Mads were in the clear, but my killer was still out there—smiling, watching, lurking, waiting.