The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,355

Gabby and Lili think?” Emma asked.

Madeline crossed her arms over her chest. “I wanted Samantha Weir to join two years ago and you were a mega-bitch about it then, Sutton. I don’t see what’s changed.”

“Nisha’s way cooler than Samantha Weir,” Emma argued, channeling her inner Sutton. “But if you have a better idea, we won’t use Nisha’s and we won’t let her in on it. Anyone?”

They looked back and forth at one another. No one said anything. Finally, Madeline blew out a loud breath. “Okay. But this is a one-time-only deal. We don’t need any associate members.”

“Nisha?” Emma asked.

The other girl gave them a long, appraising look over the clay cat. Then she grinned. “Why not,” she said. “Count me in. I’ve always wanted to see a Lying Game prank from the other side.”

Across the room, Celeste painted astrological symbols around the rim of her bowl. An electric jolt charged down Emma’s spine as the new girl looked up and met her eyes. A slow, languid smile spread across her face—as if she had just caught Emma in a lie and couldn’t wait for the chance to expose her.

Or, I thought with a shudder, as if she’d just seen me, floating behind my twin.

15

HOPES AND SCHEMES

On Monday morning, Emma, Laurel, Madeline, Charlotte, and the Twitter Twins were perched on the low stone wall in the courtyard, enjoying the sun before the first bell rang. Emma felt a bit more rested after the weekend. She’d tried to regroup, spending a lot of time watching reality TV with Laurel on the couch and going on a bike ride with Ethan. Mr. Mercer hadn’t brought up the subject of Becky once, and she hadn’t asked.

Swarms of students moved through the quad on their way to lockers or classrooms, many of them casting the girls surreptitious looks and trying not to look too desperate. Word had gotten out that Charlotte was having a party on Saturday, and everyone wanted an invite.

“I can’t wait for your party, Char,” Laurel said, ripping the cover off a Chobani yogurt container.

“It’s going to be amazing,” Charlotte agreed. “I’ve got Poor Tony playing at ten.” She leaned back and took a sip of her iced latte, seemingly oblivious to the horde of would-be attendees.

“The DJ from Plush?” Madeline looked impressed. “How’d you swing that?”

“Money talks, girl.” Charlotte’s eyes glinted behind her aviator shades. “Mom and Dad left me an envelope of cash for the weekend, to buy food or whatever. They must be feeling guilty for something, because they went pretty overboard this time.”

A girl with blue streaks in her hair and a flowered romper suddenly appeared next to the wall. “Hey, Charlotte. I made all these blueberry scones for the drama club bake sale, but I ended up with way too many.” She gave a flustered little laugh, her round cheeks flushing. “Do you guys want some? They’re really good.”

Lili’s hand snaked out toward the plate of treats, but Charlotte swatted it back. “Thanks, but we already had breakfast.” Charlotte gestured toward the Starbucks cups and empty yogurt containers scattered around them.

The girl’s face fell. “Oh. Right.” She scampered away, cheeks blazing.

Madeline snorted in her wake. “Trying too hard, much?”

“The scones, or that outfit?” Charlotte asked.

“She’s not so bad, you guys,” Lili piped up. “I’m in P.E. with her and she’s actually pretty fun.”

“Whatever,” Charlotte said. “You can invite her when you see her this afternoon, Lili. Just tell her not to wear a whipped cream dress or something insane, okay?”

Emma sipped tentatively at her own coffee and winced. Sutton drank hers black, with just a hint of Splenda, and she still wasn’t used to the bitterness.

Madeline nudged her. “Someone’s quiet this morning.”

“Yeah, what are you planning?” Charlotte lowered her shades and peered sternly out at her over the tops of the frames. “I do not want pig blood anywhere near my parents’ Persian rug, Sutton, so don’t even think about it.”

Emma tossed her hair with what she hoped was convincing hauteur. “Relax, Char, I’m not planning anything for the party. Except showing the rest of you up, that is.”

“That’s not a plan, that’s just your terrible personality,” Laurel teased.

Before Emma could come up with a retort, someone placed an icy hand on her shoulder. “Ladies,” said a cool female voice.

Emma yelped in surprise. Her balance swayed violently, and before she knew it she was on the ground splayed out next to the low wall, looking up at Nisha’s startled face.

Everyone burst into hysterics. Tears of mirth poured