The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,403

His eye was bruised and shiny, and his lip was split down the middle where Ethan had punched him. “Oh my God,” Emma whispered. She reached up toward his cheek to touch it, but he recoiled from her hand. She winced. She deserved that. “Thayer, I’m so sorry.”

He shrugged. “You’ve got Calc next, right? I’ll walk you.”

They moved through the hallways together in silence, a trail of whispers in their wake. “Are those two back together?” one girl asked another, loud enough for Emma to hear. Emma just kept her eyes straight ahead. Let them think she was some kind of man-eating bitch if they wanted. She had bigger things to worry about, a murder to solve. The people who really mattered knew the truth about her.

Her phone vibrated in her purse. She glanced at the screen, then hit IGNORE. Nisha could wait a few minutes.

“Come on,” Thayer said, leading her into a narrow hallway that connected the math wing and the arts wing. There weren’t any classrooms in the corridor—just a janitor’s closet, a pair of bathrooms, and the photography darkrooms. They were alone except for a pimpled marching band couple making out against the wall under an army recruitment poster.

“I need to talk to you,” he said, stopping next to a fire alarm. His lips were pulled into a serious line. The bruise on his eye looked almost green under the fluorescent lights.

Emma laughed nervously. “Okay. What’s up?” Her phone vibrated again and she glanced at it. Nisha. Take a hint, she thought, hitting IGNORE again.

He grabbed her arm. Her gaze shot up to meet his, his touch seeming to scald her.

“There’s something different about you,” he whispered angrily.

Emma’s heart skipped in her chest. She pulled away from him and crossed her arms over her chest.

“Of course there’s something different, Thayer. Look, we’re not together anymore. You shouldn’t have kissed me. I’m not the girl you used to date, not anymore.”

Her phone rang again, and Thayer gritted his teeth. “Do you need to get that, or what?”

“No,” she said shortly, hitting IGNORE. She looked back up at him. He was searching her features, like he was trying to solve a puzzle and couldn’t figure out which way to turn the piece.

He shook his head. “Something’s going on with you. It’s not just Landry. There’s something … off. I don’t care what you say, Sutton. I’m going to find out what it is.”

Emma tossed her hair flippantly, even though her entire body had gone cold. “Are you off the wagon? Because you’re acting totally high.”

Thayer gave her a long, piercing look. She had to get away from him, had to hide from his gaze before he saw something in her that he shouldn’t. She pushed his shoulder playfully. “Now I’m going to class, Mr. Conspiracy Theory. Hurry up or you’ll be late to English. Mr. Abernathy isn’t going to let you off the hook a third time.”

With that she spun on her heel and walked away, feeling his eyes boring into her back as she strutted down the hallway.

I’m right here, I whispered to Thayer, before my attachment to Emma tugged me forcefully along after her. Even though I didn’t want Emma’s cover blown, my heart swelled. At least Thayer had finally noticed that Emma wasn’t a perfect Sutton replacement. Had finally sensed that I was gone.

Emma looked at her phone again. CALL ME ASAP, I HAVE SOMETHING TO TELL YOU, Nisha had texted her. But before she could dial, the bell rang. Kids disappeared into the classrooms up and down the hall. She turned off the ringer and put the phone back into her purse. Nisha would have to wait until tennis practice.

35

CALL ME MAYBE

Later that night, the Mercers sat at the patio table in their backyard, waiting for Ethan to arrive. Despite Emma’s insistence that he really didn’t have to come, Ethan had been determined to make the effort, saying he felt much better. Citronella candles flickered around them to keep the bugs off. Mr. Mercer had put a jazz record on the outdoor sound system, and even though Emma muttered that it was “so lame,” she secretly liked the effort they’d put in for her boyfriend.

Ethan had texted her to tell her he was running late: SORRY, MOM STUFF, BE THERE SOON. Ever since Ethan had told her that Mrs. Landry had defended her abusive husband and called the cops on her own son, Emma had found it difficult to feel charitable toward Ethan’s mother. Of