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I read the page over Emma’s shoulder. Would everyone talk about what a bully I’d been? Would they say I’d deserved what I got? Would anyone even miss me? But most of the comments were superficial. I will always remember how pretty she looked for Junior Prom, someone named wildcat_chick had posted. I had such a crush on her in eighth grade, another comment read, and Remember her sixteenth birthday party? That night made Hollier history! It seemed like no one really knew me underneath my shiny, popular exterior. Then again, I hadn’t exactly let many people see past that part of me.
Emma seemed to realize the same thing. She opened Twitter, certain that she would find something from Gabby and Lili. Sure enough, they’d been commenting on the whole situation.
@LILI_FIORELLO: Calling it now: It’s a prank. This is too crazy to be real.
@GABBY_FIORELLO: Sutton Mercer wouldn’t let herself be taken out by some flimsy black market knock-off bitch.
@LILI_FIORELLO: Joke is getting stale. Cross your heart and hope to die?
And then, a few hours later, simply:
@GABBY_FIORELLO: Sutton, we love you and will miss you forever.
Both of them had changed their user pictures to black squares. Emma’s heart ached. She knew Sutton and her friends had never been touchy-feely, but she also knew that below the surface, they cared deeply about one another. Then she suddenly realized: Gabby and Lili were twins, too. She wondered if they believed the rumors that Emma had killed her own sister. Maybe they were joining CIT at that very moment.
For hours Emma sat bent over the computer, reading story after story and searching for clues. When a car door slammed outside, Emma was shocked to see it was already three. Tiptoeing to the window that looked over the front of the house, she pulled aside a slat in Ethan’s Venetian blinds—and froze.
A cop car had pulled into the driveway, and Ethan was getting out of the passenger door. He paused to say something to the officer in the front—Corcoran again. She recognized the buzzed auburn hair. Then Ethan nodded and walked toward the house.
She met him in the entryway. He looked tired but calm, his backpack slung across one shoulder behind him.
“What happened?” she exclaimed.
“It’s okay.” He went to her, dropping his backpack on the floor next to him. As he straightened back up, she saw a scar on his temple she’d never noticed before, curving out from his hairline. She wanted suddenly to kiss it. “I went in willingly.”
Emma’s jaw fell open. “What?”
“I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing. They need to know you’re innocent.” He raised his hand and cupped her cheek in his palm. “I told them I was blindsided by the news that you were really Emma but that I didn’t care. I said that I love you, whoever you are—and that I believed you were innocent.”
His touch on her face made her feel momentarily light-headed. The chill that had swept across her skin when she saw the cop car was replaced by a warm tingle.
Ethan’s voice dropped low. “And I told them I’d seen Garrett running up to the canyon, the night Sutton died.”
She blinked. “Wait, what? If you saw Garrett the night of the murder, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”
He looked from side to side, though they seemed to be completely alone in the hall. “I didn’t really. But it was the only way I could think of to get the cops to look at him more closely. You saw his car in the parking lot security stills, right? I may not have seen him, but he was out there.”
“Ethan, do you realize how deep a hole you’re digging for yourself?” she hissed. “Don’t lie to the cops again—not for me. Isn’t it bad enough that I’ve been lying to everyone?”
His hand dropped away from her cheek, and he looked down at his feet. “I’m sorry. I just—I thought it would help.”
A door opened somewhere in the house, the quick patter of a local used-car commercial drifting through. Ethan glanced furtively into the hallway. After a moment there was the sound of a toilet flushing, and then the door closed again and the TV became muffled and distant once more. Mrs. Landry had retreated back to her cave.
Emma took a deep breath. Garrett had been in the canyon, after all. Maybe Ethan was right—now the cops had to look into Sutton’s ex. “You’re right,” she said, touching his shoulder. “Thank you. I’m sorry for snapping. I’m just so afraid that the cops are going to pull you into this, too.”
He shook his head. “Emma, I’d do anything for you. I want to keep you safe.” He stooped to unzip his backpack, and when he stood back up he shoved something in her hands. She looked down to see a burner cell phone, still in the package. “I also swung by Radio Shack and got this for you.”
She shifted her weight. The box felt strangely heavy in her hands. “You’ve already spent so much money on me, Ethan.”
“Yeah, but you need a phone,” he said. “Now I’m just a call away. If you need me, I’ll come running.” He wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close to him. The contact sent a warm glow through her body, and she hugged his neck.
“So, I really need to catch up on my calculus,” he said, resting his forehead against hers. “But when I’m done, how about we grab some takeout and have a picnic? I know a great little spot just a few feet from here where the paparazzi will never find us. It’s right behind my house, in fact.”
She smiled. “You mean your yard?”
“You’ve heard of it!” he teased. “Come on. You, me, the mood lighting of the citronella candle. The best tom kha gai in town . . .”
