Sara Shepard - The Lying Game

I remember, I wanted to shout out. Not that I did exactly, but I wished I could. Something seemed so wrong about this. How had Laurel and I gone from playing Les Miz to hating each other? How could my sister have killed me?

But Emma was convinced Laurel had done it—the memory of Laurel trying to suffocate her this morning burned brightly in her brain. What she couldn’t figure out was why. Wouldn’t she want to keep Emma alive so that no one would know Sutton was missing? Maybe Emma wasn’t playing Sutton well enough. Maybe Emma was asking too many questions, poking around too many places.

Something across the patio caught Emma’s eye. A tall guy with shorn hair and dressed in a slim-cut black button-down and jeans pushed through the back gate. There was a box of Godiva chocolates under his arm and a tense scowl on his face. He looked around the crowd as if searching for someone. Emma’s heart did a flip. Ethan .

Emma handed the digital camera back to Madeline. “I’ll be right back.”

“But, Sutton,” Charlotte whined. “We haven’t given you our gift yet.”

“In a minute,” Emma called over her shoulder.

As she pushed through the mob of kids, she heard Charlotte sigh. “What’s with her?”

Everyone was either packed around the food table or writhing on the dance floor. The strong scent of rum tickled Emma’s nostrils as she wove through the mass of kids, keeping tabs on Ethan’s head. He was having a hard time getting past the gate. Gabriella noticed him and snickered at the Godiva. “Looks like someone still has a burning crush on the birthday girl, huh?” She nudged Emma in the ribs.

Emma ignored her, standing on tiptoes. Ethan was wedged between Jennifer and Julia, the only outed—and popular—lesbian couple at school, and three soccer players seemingly reenacting a play from a recent game. Emma could see his patience quickly dwindling away, like battery power on a cell phone.

Emma zigzagged around the girls at the makeover table. And finally, there he was, setting down the chocolate on an empty spot on the gifts table and pivoting back toward the gate. She grabbed his wrist. Ethan’s shoulders tensed, but when he saw it was her, he smiled.

“You made it!” Emma exclaimed.

Ethan shrugged nonchalantly. “I was driving by. I can’t stay long.”

“Oh.” Emma’s shoulders sagged.

Ethan’s long-lashed eyes darted around the rest of the party. Then he touched the Godiva box. “Anyway, these are for you. Happy birthday. I hope you have a great one.” He leaned in closer. “I hear all the great poetesses have a chocolate obsession.”

“Thank you.” Emma ran her fingers along the top of the square-shaped gold box. Ethan had selected a dark chocolate mix, her favorite. “I’m really glad you came.”

A smile flashed across Ethan’s face, too. But then, just as quickly, his expression wilted at something behind her. Emma turned just in time to see Garrett pushing past a crowd of kids. He grabbed Emma, wrapped his arms around her waist, spun her around, and gave her a long, seductive kiss.

Emma flailed helplessly, balking at the feel of Garrett’s lips against hers. Her cheeks burned. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her. “Whoo!” a girl called near her. “Yeah!” one of the soccer players said. “Get a room!” Madeline whooped nearby.

Finally, Garrett pulled away and released her. Emma searched for Ethan . . . only, he’d disappeared.

Garrett had pulled Emma all the way into the house before she refused to go any farther. “That was really rude of you back there. You can’t just tear me away from a conversation like that. I’m supposed to be the hostess.”

Garrett turned and grabbed her hand. “I was rescuing you, Sutton. Landry had you trapped.”

Emma scoffed. “No, he didn’t !”

“Yeah, he did.” There was a chivalrous but also slightly condescending tone to Garrett’s voice. As if he knew what was best.

Emma’s mouth hung open for a long beat. The music pulsed outside. There was a thwonng of the springs on the diving board as someone jumped off. “I’m not your damsel in distress,” she finally said, her cheeks burning.

A confused look registered on Garrett’s face. “I’m sorry.” He grabbed Emma’s hands. “Shit. I just wanted some alone time with you. I haven’t seen you all night.”

Emma leaned against the grandfather clock, remembering the bashful look on Ethan’s face when he’d given her the chocolates.

“Once I give you your present, you’ll forgive the intrusion,” Garrett said confidently. “I promise.” At that, he grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her up the stairs.

Emma followed, stepping over a stack of folded T-shirts Mrs. Mercer had left on one of the risers. What was Garrett giving her that he couldn’t show her downstairs?

“Here we go,” Garrett said in a hushed voice. He pushed open the door to Sutton’s bedroom. Candles flickered from every possible surface. The smell of lavender essential oils assaulted Emma’s nostrils. The faint sounds of Billie Holiday tinkled out of stereo speakers. Garrett had drawn the curtains tight and sprinkled rose petals all over the floor and on the bed. There was a box of Valrhona chocolates on the pillow and two glasses of champagne on the nightstand.

Emma’s mouth dropped open. The conversation on the mountain trail flooded back to her. Remember what we talked about this summer? Our plans? I was thinking about making that happen for your birthday. “Oh my God,” she mouthed.

The Billie Holiday song morphed into an acoustic love song by Jack Johnson. Garrett smiled earnestly at Emma. Then, as though he were in a stripping race, he tore off his T-shirt and threw it to the floor. He kicked off his shoes next and unbuckled his belt.

“Oh my God, stop!” Emma cried.

Garrett froze, his cheeks flushing bright red, and his hands trembling a little. The candles flickered against the wall.

“Um . . .” Emma started to nervously giggle. Something about it seemed so ridiculously . . . ridiculous. She’d known Garrett for what, two weeks? And now she was supposed to be with him?

“I’m sorry, I can’t do”—Emma gestured to the bed—“ this .”

Garrett sat tentatively on the edge of the bed, staring at Emma as if her skin had turned purple. “But . . . we’ve been talking about it all summer.”

Emma’s mouth fell open.

“I mean, I thought about it,” Garrett went on, running his hands over his spiky hair. “And I realized you were right: There’s no reason to wait. I want my first time to be with you. Don’t you want it to be with me, Sutton?”

Emma looked everywhere in the room except at the big strip of boxer shorts peeking out of the top of Garrett’s jeans. I’m not Sutton , she wanted to scream. “I-I guess I’ve changed my mind,” she said instead.

“Changed your mind ?” Garrett searched her face desperately. Then he placed his palms flat on the petal-strewn mattress. “Wait a minute,” he said in a low, shaky voice. “Were all of our sex talks just some big prank? Is this what you did to Thayer?”

“No, of course not!” Emma shook her head fast, wondering what Sutton had done to Thayer. “It’s just . . . I can’t . . .”

She took a big step back. The essential oil smell was starting to make her woozy. “I’m sorry,” she said again. Then she flung the door open and fumbled clumsily into the hall. Instead of galloping down the stairs to the party, she turned the other direction and dove into a room one door down.

She shut the door just as Garrett stepped into the hall. “Sutton?” he called. Emma crouched next to the door. She heard him spinning around, his footsteps soft on the carpet. “Sutton?” he called again.