The halls were mostly empty by now, with the exception of a few drama kids wearing black robes for the school production of The Crucible. A pimply boy carrying a tuba hurried out of the music wing and disappeared through the doors leading to the football field.
As they crossed the flagstones of a small courtyard, Emma heard a dark chuckle from a bench in the corner. It was Garrett, his gaze pinned sharply on her. He was alone, his gear bag slouched on the ground next to him. His eyes were hard and angry, his lips twisted with bitter amusement.
“You’d better not let Landry catch you sneaking around all buddy-buddy,” he said, sneering. “Although I could stand to watch him kick your ass again, Vega. I should have done it myself ages ago.”
“Mind your own business, man,” Thayer shot back. He stood with his legs planted wide and crossed his arms over his chest. Emma tensed next to him.
“You’re not in charge of who I hang out with, Garrett,” she snapped, recalling Laurel’s words. It sounded like he’d been more controlling than she would have guessed. Maybe, in the end, he hadn’t been able to control Sutton. Maybe it had driven him crazy.
Garrett gave her a long, cool look, his smile broadening slowly. “You are a piece of work, you know that? It’s almost like you believe your own lies.”
She drew in her breath sharply. Once she would have thought he was just referring to Sutton’s infidelity. But maybe he meant Emma’s lies about being Sutton.
Thayer’s hands clenched into fists for a moment. Then he relaxed them, shaking his head slowly at Garrett. “Man, it’s over. This is pathetic even for you. Come on, Sutton.” He rested his hand gently on her back and steered her through the door to the athletics wing.
Emma glanced at Thayer from the corner of her eye as they walked. His face was stormy, a brooding frown creasing his forehead.
She bit her lip and took a deep breath. “You know Garrett knew about us, right?”
Thayer nodded. “I had a feeling. He’s said some weird stuff to me since I got back.”
“Weird stuff?”
“Just macho bullshit. Watch my back, that kind of thing.” Thayer shrugged. “I brushed it off at first. We’ve never exactly been friends. But he cornered me at the school break-in party a few weeks ago, drunk off his ass. He was pretty aggressive.”
Emma’s throat went dry. She stopped walking and touched his arm. He stared down at her fingers on his sleeve for a second too long, then glanced up to meet her eyes. “Thayer, do you remember anything at all about the face you saw through the windshield that night at Sabino?” she whispered. “Do you think it could have been Garrett?”
“Garrett?” He blinked in surprise. “I don’t know. I really couldn’t see anything, it was so dark.” His brow furrowed. “Do you have some reason to think it was him?”
“No, not other than how angry he’s been at both of us, I guess.” She sighed. “There are too many things in my life that don’t make any sense right now. I wish I had some answers.”
They stopped in the sports lobby just outside of the locker rooms. Nisha’s senior portrait, blown up and framed with black velvet, hung on a corkboard next to the ticket office. In the picture her cobalt dress was bright against her dark skin. She gave the camera a serious look, obviously trying to appear like the dignified future Ivy Leaguer she imagined herself to be, but the photographer had somehow caught the ghost of a smile on her lips. All around the picture, people had pinned notes and cards, poems and song lyrics and messages in pink sparkly pen that Nisha would have mocked as far too girly.
“It’s just so awful,” Emma whispered. Thayer nodded, the corners of his mouth turning downward as he looked at the picture, too. She sighed. “Well, I’d better get changed. Thanks for . . . for walking with me.”
Thayer turned to look at her again, his gaze searching and intense, as though he was seeking something in her features but didn’t know what. Emma ducked away, suddenly afraid of Thayer’s hazel eyes.
“It’s weird,” he said quietly. “Something about you has really changed. Sometimes it feels like you turned into a whole new person while I was away.”
“Maybe I grew up,” Emma replied, her heart lurching nervously. “Or maybe you did, and you’re just seeing me differently.”
Thayer shook his head. “I don’t know much, Sutton, but I know nothing can change the way I feel about you.”
Relief flooded my body—the boy I loved so desperately still loved me back. But it was tempered by a deep feeling of sadness. Thayer had so many more memories of our time together, whereas all I had were a few scattered scenes. Would I ever get those memories back?
Emma’s breath felt strangely short. She glanced up at Thayer’s wounded and confused expression, then looked quickly away. “I have to go.”
“Yeah. Okay.” He shoved his hands into his pockets. “See you, Sutton.” He turned toward the glass double doors and walked away from her.
She and I watched his retreating form together. I wanted to call out and stop him, to somehow let him know that I’m still here—and still in love with him. But he didn’t look back, not even once.
6
THE CANYON’S SECRET
The humming sound of potters’ wheels provided a soothing background noise as Emma sat in the ceramics studio on Wednesday morning, struggling to attach a handle to a lopsided pitcher. She dipped her fingers into the bucket of slip she’d dredged from the vat at the back of the room and dabbed it carefully on her project. Madeline wrinkled her nose in distaste.
“You got some of that stuff on your jeans,” she said, pointing to a splotch on Emma’s thigh.
“Ugh. That’d better come out in the wash,” Emma grumbled, though she had bigger problems right now than cleaning Sutton’s J Brands.
“So where’s Laurel?” Madeline asked, looking around.
“I guess she decided to skip.” Emma shrugged. It wasn’t like Laurel to cut class without the other Lying Game girls, but a lot of things had been weird lately.
“I wish I’d gone with her.” Mads sighed as her mug collapsed yet again. “I can’t stand much more of this.”
Charlotte put her bowl down, reaching over to pat Madeline on the back.
“Here’s something to look forward to,” Charlotte said, smiling. “My mom decided we’re going to Barbados for Christmas. And of course Daddy’s on board. He’s been on his best behavior ever since Mom found a naughty text on his phone. Anyway, I refused to go unless I could take friends. So pack your bags, bitches, because we’re heading to the land of rum and Rihanna.”
Madeline’s jaw fell open. “Are you kidding me?”
“Do I ever joke about vacations?” Charlotte winked. “In a few short weeks we’ll be lying on the beach, drinking out of coconuts, and watching boys on surfboards.”
“Oh my God.” Madeline gave an uncharacteristic squeal, her eyes bright. “I am so in!”
Charlotte looked at Emma expectantly. “Sutton? What about you?”
Emma could barely process Charlotte’s invitation. The only “beach” she had ever been to was a fake one at a water park outside Vegas, with screaming children and a lazy river that was probably full of pee. Images of white-sand beaches and brilliant blue water immediately danced through her mind. But then she hesitated. “I’ll have to ask Mom and Dad,” she said.
That seemed confirmation enough for Charlotte. “Oh, you’ll convince them. You always do.” She laughed in excitement, launching into a description of the private house her parents had rented, the beach bars that served piña coladas every afternoon, and the celebrities who would be going incognito. “Rob Pattinson for sure, he’s always there,” Char was saying, but Emma wasn’t really listening.