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So much had happened to her here—in this house, in this room. So much of it had been painful, but that didn’t erase the good. She’d finally found her family. She’d finally found where she belonged.
Mrs. Mercer followed her gaze. “This is your room now,” she said softly, running her hands over Sutton’s pink comforter. “We could redecorate it, however you want it.”
Emma shook her head. “I want to keep it this way, just a little longer. It makes me feel close to her.”
Mrs. Mercer smiled. “Me, too.” She went to the door and put a hand on the frame. “We’ll leave in about a half hour. Come on down when you’re ready.” With that, she was gone.
Emma sat in the silent room for a moment. Next door she could hear Laurel’s music through the wall, the bass line thumping. Downstairs, Grandma Mercer and Mr. Mercer bickered about the tie he’d chosen to wear.
These were the sounds of a normal family—one that she actually belonged to. And that would hopefully grow by one more, eventually. She thought of the secret she’d told the Mercers as soon as they’d gotten home from the police station: that Becky had another child, somewhere in California. She’d be twelve now. Emma didn’t even know what her name was, but the Mercers had vowed to track her down, too. Hopefully she was happy, wherever she was, but if she wasn’t—well, the Mercers had a big house.
But that could wait. Today, finally, Emma could say good-bye to one sister. She’d worry about her other one tomorrow.
34
THE QUEEN IS DEAD (LONG LIVE THE QUEEN)
Sutton’s funeral was held in a beautiful Spanish Revival church in the Catalina Foothills. Cream-colored adobe walls arched up from thick red carpets, and bunches of flowers had been arranged on every surface. Every pew was packed—the entire school was there, along with what seemed like half of Tucson. Emma’s eyes scanned the crowd. Sutton’s teachers sat mingled with the students. Principal Ambrose perched awkwardly at the front, a black pillbox hat on her stiff hair. A half dozen police officers were there, too, shining in their dress blues. Quinlan sat next to a pretty Asian woman Emma was shocked to realize must be his wife. Corcoran sat behind them, his face as stoic as always.
In front of the altar was a blown-up picture of Sutton. Unlike most photos of her, where she mugged for the camera or smirked or gave a movie-star pout, this one showed a quiet, inscrutable girl. Her eyes were wide and clear, her lips parted in an enigmatic smile. The expression wasn’t malicious or sly, but it hinted at the presence of a secret self, deeper and more beautiful than anyone could have guessed.
I followed my sister’s gaze as she looked out over the crowd. There were so many faces I barely recognized, people who’d flitted through my life without any real connection. Kids I’d passed in the hallway, people I’d rolled my eyes at, neighbors I’d only spoken to once or twice. The sheer size of the crowd made me feel strangely sad. Who here had I missed out on knowing?
Emma sat in the front row with the rest of Sutton’s family, her hands balled up in her lap. Next to her, Laurel was sobbing into Mr. Mercer’s handkerchief, her shoulders shaking. Mr. and Mrs. Mercer clung to each other as if to a lifeline. On the other side of them sat Grandma Mercer in a sleek black suit, her lips pressed into a savage red line of grief.
Emma stared ahead at the gleaming wooden coffin, dry-eyed, the ache in her chest too enormous to comprehend. She had been living with the loss of her sister for four long months—four months when she couldn’t grieve, when she lived under constant terror. Now that she had the chance to say good-bye, she wasn’t sure what to feel. She’d lost someone she’d never even met. But in a way, she felt closer to Sutton than anyone. She thought again about the shimmering form in the canyon. Translucent, blindingly beautiful. She and Sutton had been connected by something deeper and stronger than she could understand—and she didn’t know how to let go of that.
And neither did I.
Across the aisle from the Mercers sat the Lying Game girls. Charlotte twisted a handkerchief in her fists. Madeline and Thayer sat side by side, Thayer’s arm tucked protectively around his sister as she wept. He looked shell-shocked, his gaze glued intently to Sutton’s photo. Even the Twitter Twins, who were usually buoyant, leaned against each other for support. Gabby stared at the ground, tears plopping straight down from her button nose. Lili turned her face away into her sister’s arms, her shoulders trembling.
The Mercers had asked the hospital chaplain to perform the funeral—they’d never been a religious family, but Father Maxwell had known Sutton since she was a little girl. He wept openly as he delivered the eulogy, reminiscing about the rambunctious, joyful child he’d seen grow into a promising young woman. Emma barely listened. The priest’s words were compassionate and well chosen, but there was no way he could speak to the Sutton she knew. Because even though they’d never met, by now she knew Sutton better than anyone. She knew the parts of her that had been haughty or selfish—but more than that, she knew the parts that had been loyal, and fierce, and passionate. She knew her sister had been a fighter. Sutton had lent her some of her strength, that night in the canyon.
She almost didn’t notice when the priest gave the final benediction. Then all the guests were on their feet, a low murmur rising up in the packed church. People crowded around the Mercers to pay their respects. Laurel was already wrapped in a hysterical hug by their pottery teacher, Mrs. Gilliam, and Mr. Mercer was deep in a low conversation with Dr. Banerjee, two men bonded in the loss of their daughters. Suddenly Emma felt claustrophobic. She edged away from her family toward an alcove behind a column. After so long living as Sutton, and then as a wanted woman, it felt strange to slip away and become invisible, just like the old Emma had been.
