be the video footage displayed on a big screen in the gym. That way, the school would know it wasn’t the Lying Game who did it. And the Devious Four will finally have to own up to their actions.”
It seemed like a good prank to me—effective, but not cruel. I approved.
Ethan nodded. “Works for me. It’s time-stop photography, so it’ll be like a flip book, not continuous footage.”
“Even cooler.” Emma leaned against the field house door, suddenly contemplative. “If only there was video footage of who killed Sutton. That would make our lives a whole lot easier, huh?”
Ethan’s expression became serious. “Do you really think it’s Laurel?”
“Yes, I really do. But that doesn’t mean the police will believe me.”
“Have you ever searched her room?” Ethan asked.
Emma twisted her mouth. “A few times—at Sutton’s birthday party, and I noticed that she’d put Thayer’s initials on her calendar the night Sutton died.” She raised her head, staring at Ethan’s silhouette. Had Laurel known Thayer was coming? Had she followed them to Sabino Canyon and then run Thayer over while aiming for her sister? “But I’ve never snooped in her drawers or anything. I guess I’ll try again.”
“Good.” Ethan leaned in and kissed her. “You never know. Maybe I’ll be attending the next school dance with Emma Paxton.”
“Maybe,” Emma said, hope creeping into her heart. Ethan took Emma’s hand, and they emerged from the field house together.
As the sun blazed down on them like a spotlight, I wondered if Emma would get her happy ending. If after exposing Laurel, she’d live with my family, stay friends with my besties, and go to U of A with Ethan on a full scholarship. But then again, I knew all too well that not everyone got a happily ever after.
GRANDMOTHERS KNOW BEST
“Sutton?” a voice called through Sutton’s bedroom door Friday night.
Emma jumped off Sutton’s bed, where she’d been looking at the Sutton Mercer Murder Suspects list that she’d started when she’d first arrived in Tucson. At the top of the page, Laurel’s name had been crossed off in thick black ink, but Emma had re-added it at the bottom, just below Thayer’s now crossed-out name, and underlined it three times. Just as she slapped the notebook closed and shoved it under her bed, Grandma Mercer poked her head in.
“What’s that?” Grandma’s eyes narrowed at something on the floor.
Emma followed her gaze. The edge of her notebook peeked out from under Sutton’s white bed skirt. “Oh, just doing a little journaling,” she muttered dismissively, kicking it farther under the bed.
Grandma leaned in the doorway. As usual, she was impeccably dressed in a tailor-made tweed suit and high heels. Her lipstick was perfect, and her hair didn’t move as she walked. There was a slight hint of smoke coming off her clothes. Emma wondered if Mr. Mercer really hadn’t noticed yet. “Do you have homework?”
“Not really,” Emma said. “I’m pretty much all done.”
“Good. That means you can come with me.” Grandma offered her hand. “Your father’s party is tomorrow, and he’s asked me to do some last-minute things.” She made a face. “Well, he hasn’t asked me, per se, but I think some things have been overlooked. For instance, did you know that your mother hasn’t designed a lighting scheme?”
Emma opened her mouth, then shut it fast. It seemed to Emma that Mrs. Mercer had planned everything down to the last detail. Mrs. Mercer had made countless calls to the caterer, adjusting and readjusting the menu. They’d hired a salsa band, and she’d been practicing her dancemoves at night, stressing because she’d never salsaed in her life. Emma thought it was really sweet that she was putting so much effort into making her husband’s party special. But there was no use arguing with Grandma. She seemed like the kind of woman who was going to do things her way, no ifs, ands, or buts.
I wonder if
It seemed like a good prank to me—effective, but not cruel. I approved.
Ethan nodded. “Works for me. It’s time-stop photography, so it’ll be like a flip book, not continuous footage.”
“Even cooler.” Emma leaned against the field house door, suddenly contemplative. “If only there was video footage of who killed Sutton. That would make our lives a whole lot easier, huh?”
Ethan’s expression became serious. “Do you really think it’s Laurel?”
“Yes, I really do. But that doesn’t mean the police will believe me.”
“Have you ever searched her room?” Ethan asked.
Emma twisted her mouth. “A few times—at Sutton’s birthday party, and I noticed that she’d put Thayer’s initials on her calendar the night Sutton died.” She raised her head, staring at Ethan’s silhouette. Had Laurel known Thayer was coming? Had she followed them to Sabino Canyon and then run Thayer over while aiming for her sister? “But I’ve never snooped in her drawers or anything. I guess I’ll try again.”
“Good.” Ethan leaned in and kissed her. “You never know. Maybe I’ll be attending the next school dance with Emma Paxton.”
“Maybe,” Emma said, hope creeping into her heart. Ethan took Emma’s hand, and they emerged from the field house together.
As the sun blazed down on them like a spotlight, I wondered if Emma would get her happy ending. If after exposing Laurel, she’d live with my family, stay friends with my besties, and go to U of A with Ethan on a full scholarship. But then again, I knew all too well that not everyone got a happily ever after.
GRANDMOTHERS KNOW BEST
“Sutton?” a voice called through Sutton’s bedroom door Friday night.
Emma jumped off Sutton’s bed, where she’d been looking at the Sutton Mercer Murder Suspects list that she’d started when she’d first arrived in Tucson. At the top of the page, Laurel’s name had been crossed off in thick black ink, but Emma had re-added it at the bottom, just below Thayer’s now crossed-out name, and underlined it three times. Just as she slapped the notebook closed and shoved it under her bed, Grandma Mercer poked her head in.
“What’s that?” Grandma’s eyes narrowed at something on the floor.
Emma followed her gaze. The edge of her notebook peeked out from under Sutton’s white bed skirt. “Oh, just doing a little journaling,” she muttered dismissively, kicking it farther under the bed.
Grandma leaned in the doorway. As usual, she was impeccably dressed in a tailor-made tweed suit and high heels. Her lipstick was perfect, and her hair didn’t move as she walked. There was a slight hint of smoke coming off her clothes. Emma wondered if Mr. Mercer really hadn’t noticed yet. “Do you have homework?”
“Not really,” Emma said. “I’m pretty much all done.”
“Good. That means you can come with me.” Grandma offered her hand. “Your father’s party is tomorrow, and he’s asked me to do some last-minute things.” She made a face. “Well, he hasn’t asked me, per se, but I think some things have been overlooked. For instance, did you know that your mother hasn’t designed a lighting scheme?”
Emma opened her mouth, then shut it fast. It seemed to Emma that Mrs. Mercer had planned everything down to the last detail. Mrs. Mercer had made countless calls to the caterer, adjusting and readjusting the menu. They’d hired a salsa band, and she’d been practicing her dancemoves at night, stressing because she’d never salsaed in her life. Emma thought it was really sweet that she was putting so much effort into making her husband’s party special. But there was no use arguing with Grandma. She seemed like the kind of woman who was going to do things her way, no ifs, ands, or buts.
I wonder if
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