“You can’t keep a good diva down,” she said coyly, her voice amplified through the church. Then she blew a kiss at the camera, and the video went dark.
Emma realized that her cheeks were streaming with tears. As the lights came back up, a long and echoing silence descended. Mr. Mercer had broken down, his face hidden in his wife’s shoulder. Half the tennis team was sobbing—Clara wailed out loud, her cries cutting through the stillness.
As I watched the video, my friends’ final tribute, my heart felt like a flower opening its bloom to the sun. Pops of color and light filled my mind, and suddenly everything—every memory, every moment of my life—came flooding through me. Everything I thought had been lost was returned. I remembered pouring pretend tea for my mother from her antique tea set. I remembered my father handing me a set of binoculars, pointing to where a red-tailed hawk nested in a tree above. There I was, playing with Laurel in a pillow fort on a rainy night. Meeting Charlotte on the school bus in third grade, and Madeline at recess the next year. Getting my first tennis racket for Christmas. Swimming in the Pacific Ocean on a vacation, staring out at the miles and miles of lonely blue. Printing the official Lying Game cards at Charlotte’s house, giggling over the titles we’d invented for ourselves.
Kissing Thayer for the first time, and the second, and the third. All our kisses, every sun-drenched moment we spent together, came back in perfect focus.
Every prank, every secret, every adventure came back to me. And it was all so beautiful, so vibrant, so real. It was my life. Ethan couldn’t take that away.
At the back of the church Emma heard scuffling. The lights came back up, and she turned to see an old woman with curly gray hair escorting Lili and Gabby out of the audiovisual booth by their ears. The Twitter Twins raised their fists in “heavy metal” devil horns as they followed. Father Maxwell was hurrying to take the microphone from Charlotte at the altar, and a man wearing a bow tie was shooing Madeline from the light control box.
But before the Lying Game girls could be removed from the building, someone started to clap.
Emma couldn’t pinpoint where it started, but once it did, the applause built up, louder and louder. Someone wolf-whistled on his fingers. A girl Emma had never seen yelled, “I love you, Sutton!”
“Sutton, we’ll miss you!” someone else cried behind her. And soon everyone was clapping and stomping, calling out for Sutton.
“Hollier will never be the same!”
“You’re the only prom queen we’ll vote for!”
Grandma Mercer was clapping harder than anyone else, Laurel weeping next to her. The pursed-lipped old lady let go of Gabby and Lili in shock, and they ran to join Charlotte and Madeline under a statue of the Virgin Mary. Then the four of them joined in the applause, and turned toward the portrait of Sutton, with tears glistening in their eyes.
I hovered over them, the applause vibrating through my being. For a moment, I could almost mistake it for a heartbeat.
35
MAKE NEW FRIENDS, BUT KEEP THE OLD
A few minutes later, Emma stepped out into the gentle afternoon sun. The reception had been arranged on the patio in front of the church, beneath clusters of fragrant eucalyptus trees. Already some of the funeral attendees had filled paper plates with vols-au-vent, cucumber sandwiches, and shortbread-and-jam cookies. Emma spied Dr. Banerjee, looking frail but talking animatedly to Coach Maggie. Quinlan was there too, sipping a glass of lemonade and chatting with Father Maxwell. Louisa stood with Celeste, sharing crudités off a single plate. Knowing what Louisa had gone through, Emma couldn’t help but stare at her. Somehow she’d managed to put all the darkness behind her and move on. If she could come out the other side, then maybe Emma could too.
“Emma?” An uncertain voice spoke softly to her left. She turned to see Alex Stokes, a full head shorter than Emma and pixie-shaped, wearing a black slip-dress and Doc Martens laced halfway up.
Emma’s face lit up. “Alex!”
Alex hurried forward and threw her arms around her. “I knew you didn’t do it,” she said, her voice muffled against Emma’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry I showed the police those texts. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Emma said. “They would have gotten them eventually. I’m just sorry you got pulled into the whole thing. And I’m so, so sorry for lying to you.”
Alex pulled away from the hug to stare up at her with round, sympathetic eyes. “It sounds like it was . . . complicated.”
“Yeah,” Emma murmured. She bit her lip. “I’m not ready to talk about the whole thing yet. But I promise, I’ll tell you everything as soon as I am.”
“I’ll be here,” Alex said, squeezing her elbow.
The doors to the church opened again, and the entire Lying Game clique stepped out together. Their eyes were red, but they emerged with an It Girl dignity that would have made Sutton proud. Charlotte’s lips were painted Bitch Queen Red, and Madeline lifted her chin with prima ballerina hauteur. Lili and Gabby were arm in arm, Lili in lace tights and black eyeliner, Gabby in a pearl necklace and matching earrings. Laurel was with them, too, her honey-blonde hair swept back from her face, an embroidered handkerchief clutched in one hand.
Alex glanced at the clique, then back at Emma. “They seem, uh, nice.”
A grin broke across Emma’s face. “They’re not. But it’s okay. They’re actually pretty amazing.”
Charlotte was the first to meet Emma’s eyes. She came slowly down the steps to where Emma stood, the other girls trailing behind her. Laurel gave her an uncertain smile, but the others’ faces were stony. Next to her Alex shifted her weight.
After a long moment, Charlotte held out her hand to Emma.
“We haven’t officially met,” she said softly. “I’m Charlotte Chamberlain. I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Emma swallowed. Then she took Charlotte’s hand in hers. The other girl’s palm was warm and soft. She held it for a moment, and then she pulled Charlotte toward her into a hug.
“I’m so sorry, Char,” she whispered. Charlotte trembled in her grip, then hugged her fiercely back.
“We’re sorry we didn’t give you a chance to explain,” Madeline said, throwing her arms around Emma and Charlotte. Emma could feel both girls crying again.
“I don’t blame you,” she said. “Sutton was your best friend. And I lied to you for months.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t have a choice,” Charlotte sniffled. “I can’t believe you were trying to solve her murder all on your own.”
“I can’t believe Ethan—” Lili started, but Laurel shot her a dirty look.
“Too soon,” she hissed.
After a long moment, the girls broke apart awkwardly. Emma knew it was strange for them. She’d gotten to know them, but they didn’t know her at all. Would they even like someone like Emma? She was so different from Sutton. But in spite of everything, she’d had fun with the Lying Game girls. They’d made her take risks she’d never have taken in her old life, and given her courage in a time when she’d needed it most. She liked to think that she’d rubbed off on them, too, a little. Since she’d stepped into Sutton’s life, the clique had become a little warmer and more accepting of one another.
“This is my friend Alex. From Henderson,” she said, and Alex nodded slowly. Emma tensed a little—this worlds-colliding moment felt weird. Alex was the kind of girl the Lying Game had loved to punk. And Sutton’s friends were the kind of girls Alex used to call “fashion victims” and “trend whores.”
Lili looked Alex up and down. “I love your boots,” she said. “I had a pair of knee-highs, but the dog ate them.”