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“Much better, now that I’ve seen you.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I’m so sorry to be late for your parents. I had to get a refill on one of my mom’s medicines at the last minute. I just wish she’d told me earlier.”
For a moment she thought about telling him what Thayer had said to her, asking what he thought they should do. But she didn’t think bringing up Thayer right now was a great idea. She didn’t want a fight right before dinner with her family. They could discuss it later, when they were alone.
“Hi, Ethan,” Mrs. Mercer said brightly as Emma led him out to the patio. She wore a lemon-yellow apron over her silk button-down shirt. She’d been to the salon just that afternoon, and her dark hair hung in perfect waves around her shoulders. “You’re just in time. The enchiladas are ready.”
“They smell terrific,” he said, handing Emma’s grandmother the bouquet.
“You shouldn’t have!” Mrs. Mercer exclaimed, breathing in the smell of the flowers. “I’ll run in and get a vase.”
“Suck-up,” Emma muttered at Ethan. He grinned.
Mr. Mercer took a sip of his wine, watching Ethan warily over the top of his glass. “Well, Ethan,” he said, clearing his throat. “How’s school going?”
Emma stifled a giggle—whenever Mr. Mercer talked to Ethan he unconsciously adopted a stern, paternal air, a don’t-you-dare-hurt-my-little-girl tone of voice.
Ethan fidgeted nervously under his stare. “It’s going great.” He smiled shyly at Emma. “I was going to tell Sutton in private, but now’s as good a time as any. I actually got my early admission letter from UC Davis today. A full ride and everything.”
Emma squealed loudly, her hands flying to her lips. “Ethan! That’s awesome!”
“Well, congratulations, son,” Mr. Mercer said, setting his glass down. “Did Sutton tell you that’s my alma mater?”
Emma looked at her grandfather, surprised. She hadn’t known that. He was smiling warmly at Ethan now, his lecturing tone melted away.
“No, she didn’t,” Ethan said, glancing at Emma.
“It’s a great school,” he continued. “You’ll fit right in there, Ethan. And you won’t find a better education anywhere.” He lifted his glass again. “This calls for a toast, I think.”
Emma picked up her iced tea, raising it high. She was so proud of Ethan.
“To the future,” said Mr. Mercer. “To past and future Aggies.”
“Hear! Hear!” cried Emma, laughing. They all clinked their glasses together over the table. Emma rested her foot against Ethan’s under the table.
“So I guess the science fair stunt didn’t hurt you too much after all,” Laurel said, winking at Ethan. Emma flinched. She didn’t know the whole story, but she knew that Sutton and the Lying Game girls had ruined Ethan’s chances for a scholarship a few years earlier through some kind of prank.
Ethan just laughed. “No, but I’ll hang on to it, anyway. I need something to hold over her head.” He squeezed Emma’s hand, and they shared a private smile.
Soon their plates were heaped with blue corn enchiladas, Spanish rice, and avocado salad. Emma sipped at her tea, listening to Mr. Mercer reminisce about his years in college. Ethan listened eagerly, asking questions about the town and the school. Their laughter rang out in the cool fall evening, the stars bright overhead. Right now, in this moment, everything was perfect.
Then Mr. Mercer’s ringtone, the shrill old-fashioned jangle of a rotary phone, broke through their conversation. He pulled it out and looked down at the screen. Mrs. Mercer cleared her throat. “We’re eating, dear.”
“I know, I’m sorry. I have to take this—I’ll be right back.” He rose and stepped into the house. “Sanjay, calm down,” Emma heard him say before he slid the door shut behind him. She stopped eating and looked toward her father, watching him through the sliding glass door. Sanjay? That was Dr. Banerjee’s first name. Had something happened to Becky?
Emma strained her ears to try to catch what Mr. Mercer was saying on the phone, but she couldn’t hear anything. His face had gone very white. She made out the words “You found her where? Are you sure?” Emma’s stomach clenched and she pushed the rest of her enchiladas away across the table. It had to be Becky. After all that, Becky hadn’t even made it out of town. Ethan’s eyes flashed questioningly at her.
The door slid back open. Mr. Mercer stood helplessly in the doorway. His face was twisted with grief. When Mrs. Mercer looked up and saw him there, she rose to her feet automatically. “Ted … what is it?”
Mr. Mercer licked his lips. In the porch light his face was heavily shadowed.
“That was Sanjay Banerjee,” he said in a low, broken voice. “He just found Nisha facedown in their swimming pool. She’s dead.”
EPILOGUE
My family stares at one another over the round table filled with steaming dishes and wine glasses smudged with lipstick and fresh flowers springing out of their vase. Laurel’s hands have flown to her mouth and frozen there, while Mrs. Mercer sits in mute shock. Ethan’s eyes are wide with horror. And Emma—who is no stranger to violence by now—clenches her phone in one hand. The screen shows all the phone calls from Nisha she’d ignored. They’d stopped abruptly that afternoon, right after school.
Could she have saved Nisha’s life if she’d just picked up the phone?
As I watch my family grieve, I wonder where Nisha’s soul has gone. If she has attached herself to someone else, hoping to wrap up her unfinished business. Will I be able to see her if she’s there, or will she be as invisible as I am to the people at this table right now? I look around, half hoping to see my old nemesis. It would be a relief to have someone to talk to, even if I’m not sure what I’d say. So, death sucks, right? I’m glad you and my sister became friends. But there’s no sign of Nisha in the yard. Emma sobs suddenly, a sound like an awkward hiccup, and Ethan pulls her into his arms.
