The Lying Game Complete Collection - Sara Shepard Page 0,50

than likely Thayer had taught her. The two of them always used to do queer Outward Bound shit like that.

Gravel crackles beneath the tires, then gives way to the smooth, even sound of freshly tarred pavement. The highway. Where are we going? I strain to listen for conversation inside the car, but it’s dead silent. No pounding radio. No high-pitched giggles. Not even a low murmur. I try to move my knee, but it’s wedged against the spare tire. “Mmm!” I call again, louder this time. “Mmm?” I kick the carpeted side of the trunk that borders the backseat. Hopefully I’m kicking someone’s back.

The car doesn’t stop. The tires buh-bump over the concrete highway. The gag around my mouth cuts into my skin. My back aches. My fingers begin to lose feeling from the tight bind. I thrash some more, but it makes no difference. The car keeps going.

And then a nervous thought sears my brain: Maybe this isn’t a prank at all. Maybe I’ve been kidnapped.

Amusement gives way to white-hot fear. I scream as loud as I can. I press my wrists against the rough rope, the scratchy fibers cutting my skin. My friends and I do crazy things to one another, but we know when to stop. We’ve never sent anyone to the hospital. No one ever gets hurt—not physically anyway. I think of that voice in my ear. It had sounded like Charlotte’s attempt at a gruff baritone . . . but maybe it wasn’t. I kick at the back of the trunk. I shift as best I can and kick at the ceiling above me, hoping the trunk will pop open. I kick again and again, the flip-flops sliding off my feet. It feels like we’ve driven far by now, maybe into the desert. No one will know where to find me. No one will even know where to look. “Mmm!” I scream, again and again.

The car finally lurches to a stop. I catapult forward and hit my chin against the interior wall. A door slams. Footsteps crunch in the dirt. I freeze, hot tears in my eyes. There’s another sharp bleep, and then the trunk latch pops. I roll onto my back, straining to see through the scarf over my eyes. I can just make out a corona of a streetlight above and a zigzagging blur of passing headlights to the left. A broad-shouldered shape looms above me, backlit by the streetlight. I can just make out what looks like deep reddish hair through my gauzy blindfold. “Mmm,” I cry out desperately.

But then, just like that, everything goes dark again.

Chapter 19

LEAVING IS NOT AN OPTION

Back in Charlotte’s bathroom, I watched Emma fumbling through the darkness. After the memory I’d just seen, I had to admit I felt a little relieved. Whatever had happened wasn’t a prank gone wrong that I’d orchestrated myself. I hadn’t lured Emma here. I hadn’t toyed with her emotions just to one-up my friends. It made me feel a little bit better about everything. I might have been a lot of things, but at least I didn’t use my long-lost twin as frivolously and expendably as a lipstick-blotting Kleenex at Sephora.

Emma finally managed to find the doorknob. Twisting it, she emerged into Charlotte’s bedroom. Five phones glowed in the middle of the carpet, throwing long shadows onto my friends’ faces.

“What happened?” Emma whispered.

“We lost power.” Charlotte sipped the last of her drink. She sounded annoyed.

There was a knock at the door, and everyone yelped. Charlotte quickly stuffed the vodka bottle and glasses under the bed. Moments later, Mrs. Chamberlain shone a flashlight into the room. “You girls okay?”

“Is the power out at the neighbors’, too?” Charlotte asked. Emma noticed she was trying to enunciate very precisely, which just made her sound even drunker.

Mrs. Chamberlain walked to the window and looked out. Golden light spilled from the windows of the house nearest to them. “Guess not. Spooky, huh?”

Emma shifted from foot to foot. Yes.

“Oh, don’t worry, girls,” Mrs. Chamberlain said. “It’s just a power outage. If you light candles, blow them out before you go to sleep.”

She shut the door again. Everyone turned back to the center of the circle and exchanged wide-eyed glances. Suddenly there was a whirring sound, and the lights snapped back on. The stereo, which had been playing an iPod mix before the power went out, blared, making everyone jump. Charlotte’s printer in the corner groaned, warming back up. All the girls rubbed their eyes. After a beat,