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Frau Fenstermacher wasn’t in class yet, so Emma stalked over to the chair where Ethan sat. She stood there for almost ten seconds, but he pointedly didn’t look her way.
“We need to talk,” she finally said, her voice determined.
“I don’t think so,” Ethan said, his head still turned toward the window.
“I do.” Emma grabbed Ethan’s arm until he stood, and pulled him out of the classroom. A couple of kids stopped and stared, probably wondering why Sutton Mercer was taking Ethan Landry by the hand. But Emma didn’t care who looked. She needed to sort this out with Ethan— now.
A smattering of students filtered through the hall, hustling in the final moments before the bell. Emma glanced to her left and saw Frau Fenstermacher’s shapeless form approaching. Emma steered Ethan toward the next corridor, praying they’d gone unseen. They pushed through two glass doors that emptied onto a long stretch of lawn abutting the track.
Ethan shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his mud-colored cargo shorts. “We should go back inside.”
“There are a few things I need to say,” Emma interrupted, walking toward the track. “And you need to listen.”
She opened the gate and they crossed the patch of lawn that stretched before the white starting line. Silver hurdles were assembled in straight columns. A water bottle lay tipped over next to a forgotten clipboard. They climbed the bleachers slowly, their shoes making tinny clanking noises on the metal planks. Emma wandered down a row halfway to the top. She sat on the hard metal and Ethan followed suit. The wind whipped across Emma’s face. She pulled her long hair into a ponytail and turned to face Ethan.
“I don’t want to prank you,” she said. “I never did, and I’m not going to let them go through with it. It’s just hard, with everything going on, to know how to best derail it without giving myself away.”
Ethan pretended to be fascinated with the stitching on his pockets. Two students from Fashion Design class sped by on bicycles, apparently also skipping class.
“Ethan,” Emma said, her voice full of frustration. “Talk to me! I’m sorry! I don’t know what else to say. Please don’t be mad anymore.”
Finally, Ethan let out a breath and stared into his open palms. “Okay. I’m sorry, too. I guess when you said Sutton’s friends were going to prank me… I freaked.”
“But why didn’t you believe me when I said I wasn’t going to?”
Ethan shook his head. When he finally spoke, his words were slow and strained. “You just look so much like her. You’re wearing her clothes. You’re hanging around with her friends. You’ve even got on her locket.”
“So?”
A muscle in Ethan’s neck tensed. As he looked away, Emma realized there was something else, something he wasn’t telling her. His gaze met hers and she saw a flicker of hurt pass over his light eyes.
“I never told you this,” he finally said. “But during freshman year, just after Sutton and her friends started the Lying Game, they pulled a prank on me. It was awful and it ruined my chances for a science scholarship in this program that I wanted more than anything. My family didn’t have the money to send me themselves. I was almost guaranteed the spot, but after the prank… I wasn’t.” There was a clanging sound as he tapped his sneaker against the bleachers. “I thought I was over it, but I guess maybe I’m not.”
I hovered close, feeling terrible. It was yet another example of how my pranks had really hurt people. I tried to remember pranking Ethan, but I couldn’t see a thing. The only memory I had of Ethan was when he’d interrupted my friends fake-strangling me in the desert. For a split second, I’d felt pure gratitude that he’d saved me … but then I’d gotten annoyed because he’d seen how scared I’d been.
“What did they do, exactly?” Emma asked.
Ethan shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. Suffice to say they blew my chances.”
Emma took Ethan’s hand and squeezed it tight.
“Listen, I’m not Sutton, okay? Maybe we’re alike in certain ways, but I would never hurt you. You have to know that.” Ethan nodded slowly, linking his fingers through hers and returning her squeeze. “I do know that. I swear. And I’m sorry I’ve been so distant. I should have believed you.” There was a long pause. The two of them watched a bunch of blackbirds land in the center of the track and then take off again. “You know what we should do?” Emma said slowly, unable to stop the smile spreading across her face.
“Let’s figure out a plan to double-cross them.”
“Sutton’s friends?” Ethan gave her an incredulous look.
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I care about them, but it sounds like they need a taste of their own medicine. I’m sick of pranking people—and maybe if we can outsmart them, the whole Lying Game will lose its luster.” She turned on the bleacher so she was facing Ethan. “As of now, Sutton’s friends are planning on stealing your poems before your poetry slam and putting them online under someone else’s name. They want it to look like you plagiarized them.” Ethan let out a whistle. “Wow. That’s low.” His light eyes darkened and he looked out onto the track. “Why would they do that to me?”
A cloud passed over the sun and Emma watched her shadow disappear. “Laurel’s furious at me right now for getting Thayer in trouble. This is her idea of revenge. She knows that I …”—she swallowed awkwardly—“like you, and she’s hitting me where it hurts.”
