Gabby declined a paparazzi photo, too busy talking to Kevin Torres, a guy in Emma’s calc class who rolled his eyes whenever anyone got an answer wrong. She draped her arm around his skinny shoulders and giggled at everything that came out of his mouth. Lili stood next to them, looking like she’d swallowed a bitter lemon. She tried several times to get Kevin’s attention, but Kevin didn’t take his eyes off Gabby. Emma watched them carefully, über-alert for any whispers, nudges, or random disappearances. She felt like a clock was counting down on her. Now that the Twitter Twins knew she was onto them, would they want to keep her around to play Sutton? Or was she a liability?

  “Okay, people, let’s move,” Madeline said, ushering everyone off the carpet and into the ballroom. Thanks to Charlotte’s decorator extraordinaire, the gym, which typically smelled like old sneakers and floor wax, had been transformed into a mix between a ghoulish haunted house and a tricked-out nightclub.

  Emma and the others had helped pile up the gym’s bleachers and replace them with multitiered platforms containing round, black-velvet banquettes; crooked gravestones that served as high tables; burbling witches’ cauldrons full of spiced apple cider and steaming hot chocolate; and wax figures of zombies, mummies, aliens, and werewolves. They’d set flickering, intricately carved pumpkins on each table, fixed gnarled-tree decals to the walls, and hung spiderwebs from the chairs. Waitresses floated past with trays of vials filled with eerie red liquid—which was actually POM Wonderful—marked with labels like DANCING ELIXIR and KISSING CURE-ALL. And at the end of the room was a craggy haunted mansion. Greenish lights flashed through the windows, and a group of girls let out shrill squeals from inside.

  Suddenly Madeline clamped down on Emma’s arm. “Oh my God.”

  She tried to steer Emma in the other direction, but it was too late. Emma had already seen what was bothering her. Garrett sat in a banquette just a few feet away. He wore a velveteen tunic, a frilly shirt underneath, and a horned Viking helmet. A blunt-tipped sword rested on the table.

  And he wasn’t alone.

  “Hi, girls!” Nisha trilled, leaping up from the seat next to Garrett and waving happily. Her black hair had been arranged in two braids, she wore a snugly fitted corset dress, and there was a similar horned helmet sitting atop her head. She and Garrett matched.

  “What the—” Charlotte said in a low voice. “Tell me he didn’t bring her.”

  I wanted to puke. Nisha? That was a pretty big step down after dating me. Or Charlotte, for that matter.

  Garrett looked up and saw Emma, too. His face clouded. He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. Nisha babbled for the both of them, inviting them to sit and complimenting their costumes when they didn’t move. Then she eyed Emma. “Sutton, did you come here all alone?” she asked in a simpering voice, sounding absolutely delighted.

  “Come on,” Madeline urged, tugging on Emma’s arm. They snaked across the dance floor, which was already sticky with spilled soda, past the DJ booth, where a few groupies leaned against the table, and into the girls’ locker room. Harsh fluorescent lights shone overhead. The faint odor of sweaty socks and spilled shampoo lingered in the air.

  Madeline sat down on one of the benches and took Emma’s hands. “Are you okay? Do you want to leave?”

  Music thumped outside. Emma searched Madeline’s face, realizing Madeline thought she was upset. She wasn’t, not exactly—more like confused. Did Nisha like Garrett? Was that why she hated Sutton?

  Emma brushed her hair off her face. “I’m fine,” she said. “It’s just . . . weird.”

  Madeline linked her fingers through Emma’s. “You’re better off without him. Honestly? I didn’t want to tell you this when you guys were going out, but I think Garrett dragged you down. He’s sort of understated, like white bread. And you’re Sutton Mercer—the opposite of ordinary.”

  Emma looked into Madeline’s bright blue eyes, touched. Sutton’s friends might not be perfect, but they were loyal.

  “And Charlotte told me that when she dated Garrett, he was weirdly obsessed with the Summer Olympics,” Madeline went on, snickering. “Especially women’s gymnastics. Can you imagine? They’re linebacker-ish gnomes!”

  Thanks for telling me this when I was alive, guys.

  But Emma giggled. “Yeah, maybe he wasn’t worth it.”

  “Definitely.” Madeline reached up to adjust the crown on her head. Her sleeve slipped down her arm, revealing bare skin. Emma saw four purplish bruises on the inside of her forearm in the shape of fingers.

  Emma gasped. “Mads, what happened?”

  Madeline followed Emma’s gaze and paled. “Oh. Nothing.” She tugged the sleeve back down, her hands trembling. It got caught on her bracelet, and she struggled with it until it fell past her wrist. Then, Emma saw the pinkish burn on her hand. And the bruise on her calf. And another one on the side of her neck.

  Alarms clanged in Emma’s head. She’d met plenty of kids in foster care who didn’t want to talk about their black eyes, the missing clumps of hair on their heads, the burns on their arms.

  “Mads,” Emma whispered. “You can tell me. It’s okay.”

  Madeline’s mouth formed a straight line. She pushed her pointer finger into a carved groove in the bench. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  Girls’ voices floated past the locker room. Another scream rang out from the haunted house. The second hand on the clock over the gym teacher’s office made a half rotation before Madeline spoke again. “It was because of the cigarette.”

  “The cigarette?”

  “The cigarette I was smoking out the window last Saturday. I broke a rule. I deserved it.”

  “Deserved it?” Emma repeated. Mr. Vega’s angry face flashed in her mind. “Oh, Mads.”

  All at once, I saw a vision, too: Mr. Vega bursting into Madeline’s bedroom, his face red and shiny, his voice booming. I swear to God, Madeline, if you break your curfew one more time, I’ll break your neck! Madeline ran down the stairs after him, and moments later I heard heated but muffled shouts. Then there was a clang, as though a shelf full of pots and pans clattered to the floor. I had sat there, doing nothing. Too afraid to act.

  Madeline had returned a few minutes later, her cheeks streaked with tears and her eyes red. But she smiled and shrugged and pretended nothing had happened, and I didn’t ask.

  Emma held tight to Madeline’s hands. “Was this what you wanted to talk to me about a while ago? The night you tried calling and I didn’t pick up my phone?”

  Madeline nodded, her lips pursed so tightly they were translucent.

  “I’m so sorry,” Emma said, swallowing a hard lump in her throat. “I should have been there for you.” She wondered how much Sutton really knew about all this, or if Madeline had kept it a well-hidden secret.

  “I’m sorry, too,” I added, even though she couldn’t hear me. I had a feeling Mads and I had never discussed it before, not even that night. The phone call, the one she’d made to me the night I died, was the very first time she’d reached out. I would have answered it if I could, but I was already gone.

  “It’s okay.” Madeline said to Emma, her voice wobbly. “I called Charlotte. She was actually pretty awesome about the whole thing. I wanted to tell you later, but . . .” Madeline let out a bitter laugh and smoothed down the layers of her full skirt. “Believe it or not, this is nothing compared to what Dad used to do to Thayer.” She peeked at Emma. “But I guess Thayer told you that, right?”

  Emma’s skin prickled at the sound of Thayer’s name. Would Thayer have told Sutton something so personal? Had they been that close?

  A whoosh came over me again. That same moment I’d seen before, of Thayer taking my hands and telling me something, trying to make me understand. Had it been about his dad?

  “You have to tell someone about this, Mads,” Emma insisted. “What he’s doing to you is wrong. And dangerous.”

  “Are you kidding me?” The crown slipped down Madeline’s forehead. “He’d find a way to twist this around and make it my fault. My mom would side with him, too. And it is my fault. If I didn’t keep screwing up, things would be fine.”

  “Madeline, this isn’t normal,” Emma said forcefully. “Promise me you’ll think about saying something. Please?”

  Madeline stared at her hands. “Maybe.”

  “There are a lot of people around to support you if you do. Char, me, Freddy Krueger . . .”

  Madeline raised her head and cracked a smile. “Oh God, that costume is awful.”

  “It freaks me out,” Emma agreed. “I’m going to have nightmares.”

  “Everyone is. He thinks he looks really cool.”

  “Just don’t let him slow-dance with you,” Emma warned. “Could you imagine those slasher hands on your butt?”

  The girls collapsed into giggles, nearly tumbling off the bench. A group of sophomores in matching Arizona Cardinals cheerleading costumes marched in, stopped short when they saw Emma and Madeline, and then filed back out again. That just made the two of them laugh even harder.

  When they finally stopped, Emma cleared her throat and felt her smile fade. “Mads, I am here for you. I’m sorry if . . . if it seemed like I wasn’t before.”

  Madeline stood and reached a hand out to grab Emma’s. “I’m glad I told you.”

  “I’m glad you did, too,” Emma said, giving Sutton’s friend—and her friend—a hug. “We’re going to figure out a way to make this better,” she said. “I promise.”

  Lights swirled around them as they emerged into the ballroom once more. Madeline headed for the dance floor; Emma said she’d catch up with her in a minute after she got some punch. She scanned the room for the Twitter Twins, her heart jumping when she didn’t immediately see them. As she walked toward the drinks table, a hand gripped her shoulder and spun her around. Dark eyes stared down on her. In the dim, orangey light, Emma could make out two faint Viking horns on the figure’s head.

  “We need to talk,” Garrett growled. And then he pulled Emma into a supply closet before anyone could see that she was gone.

  Chapter 24

  The Viking’s Revenge

  Garrett slammed the closet door. It took a moment for Emma’s eyes to adjust to the dim light. Above her head was a bin of red rubber dodgeballs. To her left were soccer nets, field hockey pinnies, and extra lacrosse sticks. The tiny room smelled stale, as though it had been closed up for a while. The brightest things in the room were Garrett’s Viking horns, which gave off an eerie, iridescent glow.

  “What do you want?” Emma asked, trying not to get too freaked. This was just Garrett, after all. He was harmless . . . wasn’t he?

  All of a sudden, crammed into a dark closet and focusing on the white of Garrett’s bared teeth, even I wasn’t so sure.

  “I just need to ask you something, okay?” Garrett’s voice was wound tight. He took another step toward Emma, nearly pinning her against the shelving unit behind her. “What’s this I hear about you hanging out with another guy already?”

  “W-what?” Emma stammered.

  “Don’t lie to me.” Garrett clamped a hand around Emma’s wrist. “I’ve heard all about it. Who is he?”

  He sounded so certain, so sure of himself. Someone had told him about Ethan. “Who’d you hear that from? Nisha?”

  “So it’s true, then?” Garrett’s breath smelled yeasty-sweet, like beer.

  Emma turned away. “It’s none of your business.”

  Garrett sighed. His grip softened a little, and his fingers began tickling the inside of Emma’s palm. “Sutton, what did I do to deserve this? This summer was amazing—I know you thought so, too. You did nothing all summer but beg and beg and beg me to sleep with you, and the day I want to, you freak. Did I wait too long? Had you already moved on? Is that why you dumped me?”

  “Excuse me?” Emma straightened up. “I believe you were the one who dumped me. You were the one who said we were done, remember?”

  Garrett scoffed. “Not calling me for three days after rejecting me when I was naked sends a pretty strong message, Sutton. Dating someone else does, too.”

  Emma smacked a palm to her side. “What about you and Nisha? Love your twin Viking costumes, by the way. You two make a cute couple.”

  “Please. I only brought her here to make you jealous.”

  “Too bad,” Emma snarled. “It’s obvious Nisha’s crazy about you.”

  “Unlike you?” Garrett placed his rough, cold hands on the sides of Emma’s face.

  Emma swiped them away. “Cut it out, Garrett.”

  “Don’t you feel anything for me? You have to feel something, Sutton.” He rested a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t you miss what we had?”

  Emma let out a breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t feel anything anymore.”

  Garrett stepped back and appraised Emma, shaking his head slowly as if seeing her for the first time. “So is this all a game to you? Were you stringing me along the whole time? Was it because of Charlotte? Because you had to have everything she had?”

  “No! Do you really think I’m that big of a bitch?”

  “Then did you do it just because you could?” Garrett went on, his face close to Emma’s. His breath was making her dizzy. “Just like what you did to Thayer.”

  Thayer’s name ripped through Emma like a knife. “I +wdon’t know what you mean . . .” she started, choosing her words carefully. “What exactly do you think I did to Thayer?”

  Garrett snickered. “You are so in denial, Sutton! Everyone saw that fight between you guys just before he left. He loved you. He would’ve done anything for you. But you stomped on his heart. Just like you stomped on mine. You made him run away. He’s lucky, though, because unlike me, at least he never has to see you again.”

  Emma’s mouth dropped open. But before she could ask anything more, Garrett opened the door to the supply closet, leaving Emma alone with gymnastics mats and a barrel full of baseball bats. His words hung heavy in the room, almost palpable. He would’ve done anything for you. But you stomped on his heart. You made him run away.

  Once again, I saw Thayer shouting at me, his eyes full of conflict and emotion. Was it my fault that he left? What had I done to him? Was there anyone I’d spared?

  Emma ran a hand through her hair and smoothed the folds of her tweed suit. After a moment, she stepped into the gym, nearly knocking over a tall guy dressed in a Robin Hood costume. A tall, broad-shouldered, familiar Robin Hood, to be exact, holding the hand of a girl dressed in a curly brown wig and an Elizabethan gown.

  Emma stepped back and blinked rapidly. “Ethan?”

  “Sutton . . . hey,” Ethan said, dropping the girl’s hand. Emma took in her steel gray eyes, thin lips, and high cheekbones. She was familiar, too . . . really familiar. The last time Emma had seen this girl, she was smiling smugly as the cops pushed Emma into the cruiser in front of Clique.

  “Hi, Sutton,” Samantha chirped. She gestured to Ethan. “Like our costumes? I make a pretty Maid Marian to Ethan’s Robin Hood, don’t you think?”

  Samantha was Ethan’s mystery date.

  Chapter 25

  Almost, But Not Quite

  Emma spun and tore through the crowd, desperate to get out of the gym as soon as humanly possible. A red haze swam before her eyes. Screw keeping tabs on the Twitter Twins. She needed some air.

  She barely felt her hands pressing on the double doors or the cool night air on her skin. All around her was a cruelly beautiful pink Arizona sky. Ripped ticket stubs littered the sidewalk. Someone’s abandoned cat mask lay propped up against a tree. Heavy bass pulsated from inside the school, and every once in a while, there was a deafening crackle of fake thunder.

  Slumping down on the bench nearest the courtyard, Emma placed her head in her hands. She’d been the one, after all, who’d put the brakes on things. But . . . Samantha? The girl who’d had her arrested? It was like a slap in the face.

  The doors creaked open, and music from the dance wafted outside. When Emma turned and saw Ethan, she pretended to search for something in her bag. “Where’s your date?” she couldn’t help but snap.

  “She’s . . . inside.” Ethan stood over her for a moment, waiting. Emma had plopped down in the middle of the bench, but she wasn’t about to shove over to make room for him. “Are you all right?”

  Emma nodded stiffly. “Yep. Fine.”

  “I was looking for you, but I didn’t see you with Madeline and the others,” Ethan said, removing his Robin Hood hat from his head. It was kind of ugly, Emma noted with satisfaction. It made him look like an elf.

  “Well, have a nice night.” Emma knew how bitchy she sounded, but she couldn’t find it in her heart to be kind right now.

  Ethan’s shoulders slumped. “Look. I think I know what’s bothering you.”

  Emma looked away. “It doesn’t matter.” She absolutely wasn’t going to talk about this.

  “Sam’s really nice, once you get to know her.”

  Emma wanted to throw her Sherlock Holmes pipe at his head. So she was Sam now?

  “And I spoke to her about you,” Ethan added. “She’s willing to drop all the shoplifting charges. No juvie, no community service, no permanent record.”

  Emma snorted. “Was that the trade-off? You take her to the dance, she lets me walk? How nice of you. How martyrlike.”

  Ethan shook his head. “Is this what you’re like when you’re jealous?” A look crossed his face that Emma couldn’t quite decipher. “You’re more like Sutton than you think,” he said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Ethan crossed his arms over his chest. “You told me you just wanted to be friends. Is that what you want?”

  Inside the gym, the DJ put on a song by the Black Eyed Peas. The music sounded hollow, empty. Emma reached under her blazer and cupped her hand around Sutton’s locket. “I don’t know,” she muttered.

 

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