have said something. I’ll leave you guys alone.” Then he backed away, returning to his parents’ table in the corner.
Emma faced Sutton’s parents, feeling her cheeks flush. She’d kind of hoped that they wouldn’t find out about her little trip to see Quinlan.
“Were you in trouble again?” Mrs. Mercer asked, looking heartbroken, no doubt thinking about how she’d visited the police station to reprimand her daughter for shoplifting the week before.
“I bet she was there to see Thayer,” Laurel said, her voice dripping with hatred.
“I wasn’t in trouble,” Emma said, her voice rising. “And I wasn’t there to see Thayer, either. I only went because Quinlan called me in. I didn’t want to tell you because it wasn’t important.”
“Yeah, right,” Laurel said under her breath. “Like you’re such the good daughter. Like you tell them everything .”
Emma shot her a look. “What about you? Have you told them about the Free Thayer campaign? How you’re asking kids to contribute to his bail fund?”
Mr. Mercer turned to her for a moment, looking horrified. Laurel reddened. “It’s a project for my government class,” she said quickly. “We were learning how petitions impact laws, and we had to put it into practice.”
“You could have petitioned for something other than freeing the boy who broke into your home and scared the hell out of your sister,” Mr. Mercer said sternly. Then he held up a hand. “We’ll get to that in a second. Why did you go to the police station, Sutton? Was it about Thayer?” He leaned forward, staring Emma down. Fear prickled along Emma’s spine. Sutton’s dad looked just as furious as he had the night he’d found Thayer in Sutton’s bedroom.
“I …” Emma started. But she wasn’t sure what to say.
A waitress appeared beside them, then noticed the family’s expressions. She waved her hands deferentially, and backed away toward the kitchen. Mr. Mercer laid his palms on the table, his face softening. “Well, Sutton?” he said in a milder voice. “Please tell us. We won’t be upset. We’re just concerned. Thayer is troubled. No normal guy runs away and then sneaks into your bedroom. We’re just trying to keep you safe.”
Emma lowered her eyes, her heart slowing down. Sutton’s dad was using the same gentle-but-protective voice he’d used in the garage last week when she’d helped him work on his motorcycle. He was just trying to be a good parent. Still, there was no way she could tell him about what had happened at the police station.
“I was just signing paperwork about the shoplifting incident,” she said, thinking quickly. “Nothing else happened. I promise. Garrett was just trying to get me in trouble because he’s pissed off because we’re not together anymore. You’re making too big a deal about this.”
She hid her shaking hands under the table, hoping they bought her story. Mr. Mercer stared at her. Mrs. Mercer bit her mauve-lined lip. Laurel sniffed, clearly not believing a word of it. But finally, the Mercer parents sighed and shrugged. “Next time you’re at the police station, maybe you could let us know,” Mrs. Mercer suggested calmly.
“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time,” Mr. Mercer said gruffly, a crinkle forming between his eyes.
Emma looked away uncomfortably, her gaze floating to where Garrett and his family were sitting. At that very moment, he glanced over and gave her a smirk. Jerk , she thought. She hadn’t wanted to open the Thayer can of worms tonight. But when she turned back to her parents, they were discussing whether they should order a bottle of Shiraz or Malbec from the wine list. She was off the hook—for now.
Or was she? I couldn’t help but notice Laurel glaring at Emma across the table. And I couldn’t help but remember those tiny little initials scribbled on her calendar the night I died. TV.
Laurel knew something. I only hoped Emma found out what it was before it was too late.
12
I
Emma faced Sutton’s parents, feeling her cheeks flush. She’d kind of hoped that they wouldn’t find out about her little trip to see Quinlan.
“Were you in trouble again?” Mrs. Mercer asked, looking heartbroken, no doubt thinking about how she’d visited the police station to reprimand her daughter for shoplifting the week before.
“I bet she was there to see Thayer,” Laurel said, her voice dripping with hatred.
“I wasn’t in trouble,” Emma said, her voice rising. “And I wasn’t there to see Thayer, either. I only went because Quinlan called me in. I didn’t want to tell you because it wasn’t important.”
“Yeah, right,” Laurel said under her breath. “Like you’re such the good daughter. Like you tell them everything .”
Emma shot her a look. “What about you? Have you told them about the Free Thayer campaign? How you’re asking kids to contribute to his bail fund?”
Mr. Mercer turned to her for a moment, looking horrified. Laurel reddened. “It’s a project for my government class,” she said quickly. “We were learning how petitions impact laws, and we had to put it into practice.”
“You could have petitioned for something other than freeing the boy who broke into your home and scared the hell out of your sister,” Mr. Mercer said sternly. Then he held up a hand. “We’ll get to that in a second. Why did you go to the police station, Sutton? Was it about Thayer?” He leaned forward, staring Emma down. Fear prickled along Emma’s spine. Sutton’s dad looked just as furious as he had the night he’d found Thayer in Sutton’s bedroom.
“I …” Emma started. But she wasn’t sure what to say.
A waitress appeared beside them, then noticed the family’s expressions. She waved her hands deferentially, and backed away toward the kitchen. Mr. Mercer laid his palms on the table, his face softening. “Well, Sutton?” he said in a milder voice. “Please tell us. We won’t be upset. We’re just concerned. Thayer is troubled. No normal guy runs away and then sneaks into your bedroom. We’re just trying to keep you safe.”
Emma lowered her eyes, her heart slowing down. Sutton’s dad was using the same gentle-but-protective voice he’d used in the garage last week when she’d helped him work on his motorcycle. He was just trying to be a good parent. Still, there was no way she could tell him about what had happened at the police station.
“I was just signing paperwork about the shoplifting incident,” she said, thinking quickly. “Nothing else happened. I promise. Garrett was just trying to get me in trouble because he’s pissed off because we’re not together anymore. You’re making too big a deal about this.”
She hid her shaking hands under the table, hoping they bought her story. Mr. Mercer stared at her. Mrs. Mercer bit her mauve-lined lip. Laurel sniffed, clearly not believing a word of it. But finally, the Mercer parents sighed and shrugged. “Next time you’re at the police station, maybe you could let us know,” Mrs. Mercer suggested calmly.
“Let’s hope there isn’t a next time,” Mr. Mercer said gruffly, a crinkle forming between his eyes.
Emma looked away uncomfortably, her gaze floating to where Garrett and his family were sitting. At that very moment, he glanced over and gave her a smirk. Jerk , she thought. She hadn’t wanted to open the Thayer can of worms tonight. But when she turned back to her parents, they were discussing whether they should order a bottle of Shiraz or Malbec from the wine list. She was off the hook—for now.
Or was she? I couldn’t help but notice Laurel glaring at Emma across the table. And I couldn’t help but remember those tiny little initials scribbled on her calendar the night I died. TV.
Laurel knew something. I only hoped Emma found out what it was before it was too late.
12
I
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