The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,359

weight uncomfortably. “Did I do something?” she whispered. She wrapped her arms around her waist as if she suddenly felt naked. Emma shook her head. “No, I did.” She turned back to the fitting room door.

“Let’s go,” Emma said. “This place sucks. Plus, I saw an amazing bronze dress down at Castor and Pollux that will look perfect with your skin tone.”

The door flew open. Charlotte’s cheeks were blotchy and her eyes were wet, but she’d conjured up a blasé expression. Behind her, dresses lay in unkempt piles on the floor. Normally Emma would have hated to leave a mess like that for the shop assistants to clean up—she had, after all, been a working-class girl herself in her former life—but now she just laced her arm through Charlotte’s and led her toward the door. Madeline rushed behind them, but Emma twisted around and gave her a look that said, She’s cool, just give me a little time alone with her. Madeline nodded, waiting a beat so she was a few steps behind them.

“So, Castor and Pollux?” Emma asked.

Char shrugged. “Whatever.”

Emma watched Charlotte carefully as they stepped onto the down escalator, trying to read her. Char always carried herself with alpha-female confidence, but it must have been hard to run around with Madeline the Prima Ballerina and Stone-Cold Sutton Mercer, both of whom wriggled into the lower sizes on the racks with ease. Then there was Charlotte’s mother, who ate nothing but grapefruit and who looked as if she could be Charlotte’s older sister.

She placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Char. You know you’re gorgeous, right?”

Charlotte’s face didn’t budge from its cool, aloof mask. She watched three elderly women on the lower level as though they were the most fascinating people in the world.

“Seriously,” Emma persisted. “You’ve got an awesome body. I’d give anything to be able to fill out a V-neck the way you can.”

Charlotte’s face whipped toward Emma, her lips curling angrily. “Spare me, Sutton. If my body was so great, that stupid prank with my tags wouldn’t have worked.”

“Tags?” Emma blinked.

“Last year, when you guys spent a whole month switching tags on my clothes so I thought I was gaining weight?”

Emma’s lips parted. They’d seriously done that?

“I got a real kick out of spending half my junior year thinking I was too fat for a size fourteen,” Charlotte spat angrily.

“That was an awful joke,” Emma said seriously. “I’m really sorry, Char.”

The apology seemed to knock Charlotte off kilter for a moment, but then her expression became impassive once more. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes it does,” Emma insisted. “It was a mean thing to do.”

Charlotte sniffed. “It was your idea.”

Emma winced. Of course it was Sutton’s idea. “Well, it was a bad move, and I’d take it back if I could. I’m sorry.”

Charlotte stopped in front of Williams-Sonoma and lifted up her shades to peer at Emma from under them. “Okay, I’m starting to think Celeste might be right. You’ve been replaced by a pod person or something.”

Emma smiled. “No pod person here. I’ve just … well, I realized that I sometimes take you guys for granted. I hope you know how much you and Madeline mean to me. You’re my best friends.”

I hovered by my sister in silent agreement. Being dead had given me an entirely new perspective on the way that I had lived. I guess even ghosts could grow up.

“Wait a minute,” Madeline said, stepping forward to join them for real. “Sutton, having a heart-to-heart? Is this the influence of Mr. Sensitivity?”

Charlotte grinned. “Mads, I think you’re onto something. Are you going to start writing poetry now, Sutton?”

Madeline and Charlotte both giggled, startling a nearby pigeon that sat perched on top of a pretzel. “What about bottle-feeding kittens?” Madeline teased.

“Donating your hair to cancer kids?” Charlotte giggled.

“Taking up the guitar and going to open mikes?” Madeline added.

The tension had broken. Emma wrinkled her nose in mock irritation while Madeline and Charlotte leaned into each other, laughing. “You’re both hilarious,” she said haughtily.

“We know,” Charlotte said, gulping down another giggle. She grabbed their hands. “Come on. I have to find a dress that can handle my hot body.” Her voice was sarcastic, but the bitter edge was gone. “And Sutton …”

“Yeah?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Nothing. Thanks. Or … you know … I forgive you. Both of you.” She looked at Madeline, too.

“Hey, I didn’t apologize,” Madeline joked, looping her arm through Charlotte’s.

“That’s because you’re a bitch,” Charlotte said lightly. “You can’t help it. But I still