The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,5

her hair. She kept glancing from the video screen to Emma’s face. “Is this what you do for fun?” she asked Emma in a hoarse voice.

“She probably does it to get high.” Travis paced around the patio like a prowling lion. “I knew some girls at school last year who were, like, obsessed with it. One of them almost died.”

Clarice clapped her hand over her mouth. “What’s wrong with you?”

Emma’s eyes darted from Travis to Clarice. “Wait, no. That’s not me. The girl in this video is someone else.”

Travis rolled his eyes. “Someone who looks exactly like you?” he deadpanned. “Let me guess. A long-lost sister? An evil twin?”

There was a low rumbling of thunder in the distance. The breeze smelled like wet pavement, a telltale sign that a storm was close. A long-lost sister. The idea ignited in Emma’s mind like a Fourth of July sparkler. It was possible. She’d asked Social Services once if Becky had had any other kids she’d abandoned along the way, but they said they didn’t know.

A thought burned in my mind, too: I was adopted. That much I remembered. It was common knowledge in my family; my parents had never tried to hide it. They’d told me my adoption had been a last-minute scramble and they’d never met my birth mother. Could it be possible? It explained why I was literally stuck to this girl who looked just like me, following her around as if our souls had been tethered together.

Clarice tapped her long nails on the table. “I don’t tolerate lying or stealing in this house, Emma.”

Emma felt like she’d just been kicked in the stomach. “That’s not me in the video,” she protested. “And I didn’t steal from you. I swear.”

Emma reached for her canvas bag on the patio table. All she had to do was call Eddie, her manager at the roller coaster. He’d vouch for her hours today. But Travis got to her bag first, knocking it over so all of its contents spilled out onto the pavement.

“Oops!” he cried gleefully.

Emma watched helplessly as her tattered copy of The Sun Also Rises landed on a dusty anthill. A crumpled ticket for a free all-you-can-eat BBQ buffet at MGM Grand got caught in the breeze and drifted toward Travis’s free weights. Her BlackBerry and a tube of cherry-flavored ChapStick skittered to a stop next to a terra-cotta turtle. Last but not least, there was a suspicious-looking wad of bills held together with a thick purple rubber band. The wad thudded to the patio, bounced once, and landed in front of Clarice’s chunky heels.

Emma was too stunned to speak. Clarice snatched the money and licked her pointer finger to count it. “Two hundred,” she said when she was finished. She held up a twenty with blue scribble in the upper left-hand corner. Even in the fading light, Emma could see a big looped B, presumably for Bruce Willis. “What did you do with the other fifty?”

A neighbor’s wind chimes tinkled in the distance. Emma’s insides were frozen. “I-I have no idea how that got in my bag.”

Behind her, Travis snickered. “Busted.” He was leaning casually against the stucco wall, just to the left of the big round thermometer. He crossed his arms over his chest, and his top lip was curled in a sneer.

The hair on the back of Emma’s neck rose. All at once, she understood what was going on. Her lips started to twitch, just like they always did when she was about to lose it. “You did this!” She pointed a finger at Travis. “You set me up!”

Travis smirked. Something inside Emma broke loose. Screw keeping the peace. Screw adapting to whatever the foster family needed her to be. She shot for him, grabbing Travis by his meaty neck.

“Emma!” Clarice shrieked, pulling her off her son. Emma staggered backward, bumping against one of the patio chairs.

Clarice spun Emma around so that they were face-to-face. “What’s gotten into you?”

Emma didn’t answer. She glowered at Travis again. He had flattened himself against the wall, his arms in front of him protectively, but there was a thrilled glow in his eyes.

Clarice turned away from Emma, sank down in the chair, and rubbed her eyes. Mascara smudged on her fingertips. “This isn’t working,” she said softly after a moment. She raised her head and gazed soberly at Emma. “I thought you were a sweet, nice girl who wouldn’t cause any trouble, Emma, but this is too much for us.”

“I didn’t do anything,”