She caught the scent of his minty shampoo as he shifted in his seat to face her. The sun reflected in his eyes, turning them a golden brown. Emma drew her bottom lip into her mouth. “How’s your first day back?”

“Well, my old soccer buddies aside, I don’t think I’ve ever been so popular,” he said with a hint of a smirk. “Maybe I should go missing more often.”

Madeline lowered herself into the seat next to Thayer and swatted him. “Don’t even joke about that!” Then she narrowed her eyes at Emma, as if to say, Remember what I told you?

Emma felt another pair of eyes on her, too: Laurel’s. Sutton’s sister was glaring fiercely at her, her gaze bouncing from Emma’s face to Emma’s and Thayer’s fingers. Emma hadn’t realized they were almost touching. Emma quickly grasped her cup of hot chocolate, angling slightly away from Thayer.

“Where’s your boyfriend, Sutton?” Laurel said pointedly.

“Taking his mom to the doctor,” Emma said coldly. “Where’s your boyfriend? Have you officially dumped him yet?”

Laurel crunched angrily into a carrot stick, not answering. The other people at the table shifted uncomfortably. Finally, Charlotte cleared her throat. “So, are you two excited for your dad’s party on Saturday?”

Madeline launched into a story about her father’s disastrous birthday party a few years ago. But before she could get to the punch line, a crackling sound blared from the loudspeaker mounted over the doors.

“Hello, Hollier students,” came the gravelly voice. “This is Principal Ambrose. I have an announcement regarding the Harvest Dance next Friday.”

Students perked up across the patio, and conversations ceased.

“Due to the recent vandalism to school property,” Ms. Ambrose continued, “I regret to inform the student body that the dance has been canceled. Unless the persons responsible step forward, this decision is final.”

Everyone collectively gasped. Girls groaned. The soccer table looked pissed. One girl actually started crying. Emma’s stomach sank. She thought about the moment when Ethan asked her to the dance, and how excited she’d been to see him in a suit.

“Told you they didn’t have cameras,” Emma said in a defeated voice.

“Shit,” Madeline said beneath her breath.

“This is very not good,” Laurel said gravely as all heads turned toward Emma, Charlotte, Madeline, and Laurel. The stares weren’t friendly. The looks on everyone’s faces said How dare you. The table of girls next to the Lying Game group stood up in unison and walked away, as though Emma and the others were afflicted with the plague.

The swish of pom-poms filled the air, and three cheerleaders stalked by and leveled their glares on Emma and her friends. “Thanks for ruining everything,” the tallest one snapped. Then she tossed her hair over her shoulder and walked on.

Charlotte slumped down in her seat. “I haven’t been this ostracized since I was the skinniest girl at fat camp.”

Laurel nudged Madeline. “Aren’t some of those girls in your dance class? Tell them the truth!”

But Madeline’s gaze was on something else. Emma swung around. There, sitting just inside the cafeteria, clinking their Diet Cokes and smirking like they’d gotten away with murder, were the Devious Four. Emma tried to give them the nastiest look she could, but the girls just stared back, undaunted.

I couldn’t believe the balls these bitches had. Where was the respect?

“We’ve got to get them,” Emma murmured.

“How?” Madeline curled forward over her Hogan bag, looking expectantly at Emma.

“Um,” Emma stalled. She racked her brain for a Sutton-worthy idea. “With another prank.”

“And, that’s my cue to leave,” Thayer said under his breath. He slipped his black bag over his shoulder and started across the patio.

A streak of nerves passed through Emma. Lately the Lying Game pranks had been getting out of hand. Some of them, like Gabby disappearing in the desert, had been downright dangerous. “What if it’s…a nice prank?”

Laurel wrinkled her nose. “Why would we be nice to them?”

But an idea was forming in Emma’s mind. “Go with me here. Let’s throw our own dance next Friday—and keep a very tight guest list.” She glanced at the girls just inside the cafeteria doors. “We won’t invite a certain freshman four, if you know what I mean.”

Charlotte let out an excited whoop. “I love it!”

“Brilliant!” Madeline cried. “It will make everyone love us again, and it excludes the girls that burned us.”

I had to admit that I liked it, too. I was impressed my sister thought of it. And I kind of liked that we were going to pull a prank that didn’t target anyone for once. From my new lofty vantage point, it didn’t exactly feel good to watch how my friends and I used to treat people—and each other. Would things have been different—would I have been different—if Emma was in my life before I died? Would she have brought out a better, kinder side of me? Or would being around me have made her as mean as I was?

Charlotte flipped her hair over her shoulder. “I think this calls for a prank-planning session. Hot springs, anyone?”

“Perfect,” Madeline said, just as the bell signaling the end of lunch sounded. “Tomorrow night?”

“Done.” Emma gathered her books and stuffed them into Sutton’s leather satchel. Right as she was about to slide from the table, she noticed the Devious Four once more. They were staring straight at her, watching her every move like a hawk homing in on its prey.

Look out, Sis. When you’re playing with fire, anyone can burn you. Even a freshman.

6

EVIDENCE LOCKER

That afternoon, the sun beat down on the Hollier tennis team as they went through warm-up stretches. Everyone was doing their own versions of yoga poses. Clara bent over in a Downward-Facing Dog position. Charlotte kicked her leg behind her, stretching her quad. Laurel sat a few feet away from everyone else, wrapping sticky white athletic tape around her ankle. She looked lost in thought—probably about Thayer.

Even though phones weren’t technically allowed at practice, Emma had Sutton’s iPhone in her palms, reading the most recent text from Ethan. SO BUMMED ABOUT THE DANCE, he said.

DON’T BE, Emma wrote back. MY FRIENDS AND I HAVE AN IDEA THAT MAKES UP FOR IT.

BE CAREFUL! Ethan warned. DO YOU REALLY WANT TO GET INTO MORE TROUBLE?

IT’S GOING TO BE GREAT, Emma typed quickly. I PROMISE. HEY, ARE YOU STILL UP FOR THE GAME TONIGHT? There was a boys’ soccer game at Wheeler, their rival school, that would clinch their spot in the District Finals. As Sutton, she was expected to go. As Sutton’s boyfriend, Ethan was expected to go, too.

I GUESS SO, Ethan wrote back. Emma could feel his hesitation through the phone line. MY FIRST SOCCER GAME…AND I’M A SENIOR. LOL.

IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL ANY BETTER, IT’S MY FIRST GAME, TOO, Emma wrote back. I’LL PICK YOU UP AT 7. “Writing to Ethan?” Charlotte teased, sidling up to Emma and plopping down on the bench.

Emma covered the screen self-consciously. “How’d you know?”

“Because you have a big, dumb, love-struck look on your face.” Charlotte nudged her. “Before the dance was canceled, there were rumors that Ethan was going to be voted Harvest King.”

Emma’s mouth dropped open. “Really?”

“Don’t look so surprised. He’s dating you. Of course he’d be nominated.” Charlotte separated her ponytail down the middle and yanked it tighter.

“Are you ready, Hollier women?” a loud voice boomed.

Everyone looked over to see Coach Maggie in shiny navy blue Umbros and a white collared Hollier tennis shirt, standing with her hands on her hips at the edge of the courts. A couple of girls smirked. Maggie was always calling them “Hollier women,” or “women of Hollier,” or, once: “women of the racket.”

“Today’s practice will be a test of sheer will,” Maggie went on, pacing along the baseline. “I’ve pitted each of you against the player with whom your skills are most evenly matched. We’ll start with our cocaptains, Nisha and Sutton.” She paused dramatically as though expecting a round of applause. When she didn’t get one, she tossed two fuzzy tennis balls in Nisha’s direction. “Court six, ladies,” she said, gesturing to the court farthest from where the team sat.

Charlotte gave Emma a sympathetic glance—normally being paired with Nisha wasn’t something Sutton exactly celebrated.

Emma shrugged. “She’s okay,” she murmured.

Charlotte looked surprised, but didn’t say anything.

Nisha glanced sideways at Emma as they made their way across the court, like she was trying to gauge whether she and Emma would slip back into rival mode, or if their truce from the previous night would hold.

Emma gave Nisha a reassuring smile, hoping to put the girl at ease. “Can we stretch some more first?” she asked. “I’m sore after last night.”

Nisha sighed with relief. “Me, too.”

A series of footfalls sounded behind them, and the boys’ soccer team thundered past for their warm-up laps around the field. “Hey, Nisha,” Garrett called.

“Hey,” Nisha said faintly, waving back.

Then Garrett noticed Emma next to her. His expression soured.

There was an uncomfortable pause, and the girls walked quietly for a few seconds. “So you are still seeing Garrett?” Emma asked in as friendly a voice as she could muster, thinking about how Nisha had avoided the question last night.

Nisha adjusted the strap of her dark purple tank. “We were never really seeing each other,” she said. “He only went with me to get back at you.”

Then Emma remembered the real answer she had wanted from Nisha last night. “Can I ask you a weird question?”

Nisha put a hand on the hip of her neatly pleated white shorts and waited.

Emma swallowed hard. “Are you sure my sister was at the back-to-school sleepover the whole night?”

Nisha’s eyes flickered back and forth. “Why?”

“I just think she was somewhere else and lying to me about it. Sister stuff,” Emma said vaguely. “I’m not going to get you in trouble or anything. But if you remember something, please tell me.”

A few beads of sweat appeared on Nisha’s brow. Finally she let out a sigh. “I suppose I’m not a hundred percent sure she was there the whole night.”

Emma’s heart thumped. “Was she there when you woke up in the morning?”

Nisha pushed a strand of hair off her face. “Well, no.”

“Was she there for breakfast or anything?” Emma asked, clutching her racket.

Nisha raised one shoulder, then let it drop.

“So she wasn’t there the whole night,” Emma said. “But you said she was.”

Nisha’s eyes flashed. “God, Sutton. I was trying to piss you off, okay? I was mad that you told Laurel not to hang out with me. I wanted you to know that she went behind your back and did it anyway.”