Two Truths and a Lie

21 MOTHER KNOWS BEST

That night, Emma rolled over in bed and looked at the bright neon green digits of Sutton’s alarm clock. It was 2:12 A.M. She’d been crying since a cab dropped her off at home, and her throat was so parched she could barely swallow. In all her life, she’d never felt so confused and alone. Not when she had to move out of Henderson and say good-bye to Alex. Not when she’d had to stay in the state home for an entire month when social services couldn’t find her a foster family. And not even when Becky had left her at her neighbor’s and had never come back to get her.

All those times were hard and sad, but when she left Henderson, she could still call Alex. When she was at the state home, she could play with the girl who shared her bunk bed. And when Becky left, she could cry to her friend’s mom and say she missed her.

But now she was living with a secret so big she was sure the weight of it would crush her. And with Ethan mad at her—so mad that he might never speak to her again—she had no one to turn to. She couldn’t tell anyone else who she really was. She couldn’t make a list of Things I Hate About Being Sutton or Things I Miss About Being Emma or even keep a journal, for fear that someone might find it and discover her true identity.

And the news about Thayer’s blood terrified her. Did that mean Sutton had hit him? What if that caused his limp? Madeline’s voice echoed through Emma’s mind: He’ll never be able to play soccer again. It was his biggest love—the thing he was best at—and now his future is ruined. Maybe there was a motive here. What if Thayer was so furious at Sutton for hurting him that he got her back … by killing her?

Emma flopped back into Sutton’s down pillow, the soft feathers molding perfectly to the shape of her head. Everything felt so impossible. Why was she doing all this? What was the point? Maybe she should take off again and leave it all behind. If she wanted to run, now was the time. With Thayer behind bars, he couldn’t track her every movement. She could finally be free. She was eighteen. She could get her GED, declare residency somewhere, and apply for in-state tuition …

But even as she thought it, Emma knew she wouldn’t leave. She was living the life of someone she wanted so desperately to know, trying to get justice for her sister. She would never be able to forgive herself if she just gave up, because giving up meant that the person who had murdered Sutton, who had robbed Emma of the chance to get to know her twin sister, would walk free.

It was unimaginable that my murderer would get away with it. I couldn’t accept that, and I hoped Emma would have the strength to stick around—even though I also knew it was getting more and more dangerous for her to be here.

Emma flung the covers off her legs and padded across the bedroom. She unlocked the door and tiptoed down the dark hallway, descending the stairs and narrowly avoiding the stack of magazines Laurel had left on the bottom step. A scraggly aloe plant cast long shadows across the tile. A dripping noise sounded from outside the living room window and Emma watched rain fall in slow drops from the drainpipe. In the hallway, moonlight cast an eerie glow across the family photographs. Emma caught her reflection in a scalloped, gold-framed mirror at the end of the hall. Her dark hair hung long and loose, and her oval face looked like a white sheet against the darkness. She rounded the corner into the kitchen and felt the cold tile beneath her bare feet. She was about to open a cabinet when a shadowy figure moved in the corner. She jumped backward, her hip slamming against a chrome dial on the stove.

“Sutton?”

Emma’s eyes focused on Mrs. Mercer, her body hunched forward as she held Drake by the collar. The dog let out a low bark.

“What are you doing up so late?” Mrs. Mercer straightened and let Drake go. He came over and sniffed Emma’s hand before curling into a ball at the foot of the fridge.

Emma tied her messy hair back into a ponytail. “I couldn’t sleep so I came down to get a glass of water.”

Mrs. Mercer put her hand on Emma’s forehead. “Hmmm. Are you feeling okay? Laurel says you came home soaked from the rain.”

Emma forced a weak laugh. “Well, I didn’t have an umbrella. Last time I checked, we lived in Arizona.” She took in Mrs. Mercer’s rumpled hair and robe. “What are you doing up?”

Mrs. Mercer waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, Drake was whining, so I got up to let him out.” She went to the sink and filled a glass, dropping two ice cubes in it. The cubes cracked loudly in the water. She sat at the counter and pushed it toward Emma, who took a grateful sip.

“So …” Mrs. Mercer propped her chin in her hand. “Why can’t you sleep? Anything you want to talk about?”

Emma put her head down on the counter and sighed. There was so much she wanted to talk about. She couldn’t talk about Sutton’s murder, but maybe she could get some advice on Ethan. “I hurt a guy I care about and I don’t know how to fix it,” she blurted.

Mrs. Mercer looked sympathetic. “Did you try apologizing?”

There was a soft rumbling noise as the ice machine deposited a new batch in the freezer. “I tried … but he didn’t want to hear it,” Emma said.

“Well, maybe you need to try again. Figure out exactly what you did wrong and exactly how you can fix it, then make it happen.”

“How am I supposed to do that?” Emma asked.

Mrs. Mercer leaned back in her chair and ran her fingers along a pineapple-printed dish towel. “Sometimes, actions speak louder than words. Show him that you’re sorry, and hopefully everything will fall back in place. Just be the best Sutton you can be. He’s got to understand that people make mistakes sometimes. And if he can’t forgive you, he’s not worth keeping around.”

Emma thought about this for a moment. Sutton’s mom was right: She’d just made a mistake, nothing more. And maybe she couldn’t be the best Sutton she could be, but she could definitely be the best Emma. Ethan had said Emma had forgotten who she was—the nice twin. With so much going on, it was hard to maintain her identity—and know what she wanted. Emma’s needs felt so secondary in comparison to what happened to Sutton. Wanting anything beyond staying alive and solving her sister’s murder seemed like such a luxury.

She sat up straighter, a firm sense of resolve settling over her. She just needed to stick to her plan. She was going to prove that Thayer murdered her sister. That way, she could go back to being Emma Paxton. But in the meantime, she was going to behave in a way she could be proud of, even if her actions weren’t one hundred percent Sutton-like.

Emma stood up and hugged Mrs. Mercer. “Thanks, Mom. That was just what I needed to hear.”

Mrs. Mercer hugged her for a moment, then leaned back and looked at the girl she thought was her daughter with surprise. “That’s the first time you’ve ever thanked me for giving you advice.”

“Well, maybe I should have thanked you a long time ago.”

As my mom corralled Drake and led him back up the stairs, I felt a guilty pang. Given what my mother had just said, and what I’d already gleaned about my relationship with my parents, I doubted my mom and I had ever had late-night heart-to-hearts when I was alive. I didn’t value my parents’ opinions at all, and maybe that was a mistake—yet another in a long list of regrets I couldn’t rectify.

I turned my attention back to Emma, who was sitting with her chin cupped in her hand, a distant smile on her face. Even though I knew it was wrong, a bitter edge of resentment flowed through me. Emma was having trouble remembering who she was, but at least she still had a body, an identity. Actually, she had two identities—hers and mine. And now she had to live for the both of us.