Sara Shepard - Two Truths and a Lie

If anyone had peeked through my window, they would have thought it was just a normal slumber party, a festive night that involved popcorn, manicures, and six gorgeous girls from the most exclusive clique at Hollier High giving each other makeovers, sharing juicy gossip, and plotting their next prank for the Lying Game. My iPhone had dozens of photos of past sleepovers that looked exactly like it: a shot of my best friend, Madeline, holding up a picture of a model with fringe bangs and asking if the look would flatter her heart-shaped face; one of my other besties, Charlotte, sucking in her cheeks to apply the new shade of blush shed bought at Sephora; one of my adoptive sister, Laurel, snickering at a D-list celeb in Us Weekly; and plenty of photos of me, Sutton Mercer, looking like the glamorous, powerful It girl I was.

But on this particular night, something was different and five out of the six girls didnt even know it. The girl my best friends were laughing with, the girl they thought was me wasnt. Because I was dead. My BFFs were talking to my long-lost twin, Emma, whod taken my place.

Id died a month ago and was now perched somewhere between the land of the living and the great beyond, watching my life continue, but with Emma as the star. Everywhere she went, I went, like we were still sharing the same womb. Bizarre, right? I didnt think the afterlife would be like this either.

That night, I watched as my twin sister sat among my friends. Her legs were curled beneath her on the plush white sofa in the exact same way I used to sit. Her heavy-lidded eyes sparkled with my favorite silver MAC shadow. She even laughed the same way I didloud, staccato, and a bit sarcastic. Over the past month she had perfected my mannerisms, answered to my name, and worn my clothes, all with the aim of being me until my murderer was exposed.

The worst part? I didnt even remember who killed me. There were whole chunks of my life that had been wiped clean from my mind, and I was left wondering who Id been, what Id done, and who Id pissed off so much that theyd murdered me and then tricked my sister into assuming my identity. Every once in a while I would get a sudden flash of lucidity and a whole scene would snap into brilliant clarity, but the moments before and after it? Complete blanks. It was like getting a few random screen-grabs from a ninety-minute movie and trying to make sense of the entire plot. If I wanted to find out what had happened to me, I would have to rely on Emma and hope that she caught my killer before my killer caught her.

There were some things Emma and I had figured out: My friends all had alibis for the night I died. As did Laurel, meaning they were all cleared. But there were so many suspects left. A particular one lingered in both our minds: Thayer Vega, Madelines estranged brother, whod skipped town last spring. His name kept popping up, and rumors swirled that he and I were somehow involved. Naturally, I couldnt remember a thing about Thayer himself, but I could tell something had happened between us. But what?

I watched as my best friends giggled and gossiped and began to wind down. By 2:46 A.M., the lights were low, and each girls breathing was slow and deep. The iPhone Id sent hundreds of texts on before Id died suddenly chimed, and Emmas eyes sprang open as though she were expecting the message. I watched as she checked the screen, frowned, and tiptoed out of the house and across the yard. Ethan Landry, the only person who knew Emmas true identityapart from my killer, of coursestood waiting for her by the curb. And there, in the moonlit driveway, I watched as they talked, hugged, and shared their very first kiss. Even though I no longer had a body, a heart, I still ached all the same. I would never kiss anyone again.

But then footsteps crunched nearby. Emma and Ethan flew apart worriedly. I was yanked behind Emma as she rushed back inside. I glanced over my shoulder just before she slammed the door, and I saw Ethan running into the night. Then, a shadow passed across the front porch. I could hear Emmas shallow, nervous breathing. I could tell she was scared. With another jolt, I was tugged along as she ran toward the stairs to make sure my bedroom window was locked.

When she and I reached the landing, we both caught a glimpse of the inside of my old bedroom. The window was indeed open, and standing in front of it was a familiar-looking boy. The blood drained from my sisters face as she took in his features. I let out a scream, but it faded noiselessly into the ether.

It was Thayer Vega. He leveled a smirk at Emma that said he knew all of her secretsincluding exactly who she wasnt. And I could tell, in an instant, that whatever it was he had meant to me in life was wrapped up in mysteryand danger.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldnt remember what that danger was.

Thayer, Emma Paxton said, staring at the teenage boy in front of her. His mussed hair looked black in the darkness of Suttons bedroom. His cheekbones were prominent above his full lips. His deep-set, hazel eyes narrowed sinisterly.

Hey, Sutton, Thayer said, drawing the name out.

A nervous chill ran down Emmas spine. She recognized Thayer Vega from his missing person postershed vanished from Tucson, Arizona, in June. But that was long before Emma had made the trek to Tucson to reunite with her long-lost twin sister, Sutton. Long before shed received an anonymous note saying that Sutton was dead and that Emma had to take her place, and tell no one or else.

Emma had scrambled to figure everything out about Sutton on the spotwho her friends were, who her enemies were, what she liked to wear, what she liked to do, who she was dating. Shed come to Tucson simply to find a family membera foster child, she was desperate for family, any familybut now she was mired in solving her sisters murder. It had been a relief to rule out Suttons closest friends and sister, but Sutton had made a lot of enemies and any number of people could have been her killer.

And Thayer was one of them. Like so many other people in Suttons life, what Emma knew about him shed cobbled together from Facebook posts, gossip, and the Help Us Find Thayer website his family had created after hed skipped town. There was something dangerous about himeveryone said hed been mixed up in some kind of trouble and had a horrible temper. And according to the rumors, Sutton had something to do with his disappearance.

Or maybe, I wondered, staring at the wild-eyed boy in my room, Thayer had something to do with mine. A memory popped into my head. I saw myself standing in Thayers bedroom, the two of us locked in a bitter stare-off. Do what you want, I spat, wheeling toward the door. Thayer looked hurt, then his eyes flashed with anger. Fine, he snapped. I will. I had no idea what the fight was about, but it was obvious Id really pissed him off.

Whats the matter? Thayer assessed Emma now, crossing his arms over his toned, soccer-player chest. His knowing expression was identical to the one in his MISSING poster. Scared of me?

Emma swallowed hard. W-why would I be afraid of you? she asked in the toughest voice she could muster, the one she used to reserve for butt-grabbing foster brothers, borderline-personality foster moms, and creepy guys loitering in the dodgy neighborhoods shed grown up in after our biological mother, Becky, ditched her. But it was all a front. It was almost 3 A.M. on Saturday. Suttons friends, who were downstairs for a post-Homecoming sleepover, were fast asleep. So were the Mercer parents. Even the familys huge Great Dane, Drake, was snoring away in the master bedroom. In the eerie calm, Emma couldnt help but think of the note shed received on Laurels car her first morning in Arizona: