Emma stared at her, transfixed. She had piled her hair on top of her head in a fifties-style beehive, and she was wearing a sleek black dress, black boots, fishnet stockings, and long, black silk gloves. If only she could be as uninhibited and cool.

“You’re right! This band is awesome,” Emma yelled to Ethan.

He smiled and clinked his beer with hers, bobbing his head to the beat. Emma peered into the crowd some more.

The light created halos around the tops of people’s heads.

A lot of kids were dancing. Others were taking photos with their phones. A bunch of fans were crammed against the stage—a lot of them were guys, probably hoping for a look up the lead singer’s dress.

“My friend Alex from Henderson would be all over this scene,” Emma said sadly. “She loved going to shows like this. She was the one who introduced me to every cool band I listen to.”

The disco ball flashed over Ethan’s face, ill uminating his blue eyes. “Maybe I can meet her when all this is over with.”

“I’d like that,” Emma said. Alex and Ethan would love each other—they were both into poetry and didn’t care at all what other people thought of them.

Once they finished their drinks, Emma pulled Ethan from his stool and dragged him onto the dance floor. Ethan cleared his throat uncomfortably. “I’m not exactly a great dancer.”

“Neither am I,” Emma shouted over the music. “But no one here knows us, so who cares?”

She grabbed his hand and spun him around. He spun her back with a laugh, and they began dancing together, jumping and shimmying to the music.

When the No Names finished their set, Emma was exhausted and covered in sweat, but she felt light as a silk dress.

“There’s something else I want to show you,” Ethan said, pointing to an emergency-exit door and directing her through a dark, dripping hallway beyond it. A heavy metal door off to the side said OBSERVATION DECK. Ethan nudged it open and they climbed up a narrow stairwell.

“Are you sure we’re allowed in here?” Emma asked nervously, her shoes echoing on the metal risers.

“Yep,” Ethan said. “Almost there.”

At the top, they pushed through another heavy door and emerged into the open air. The observation deck wasn’t much more than a flat roof with a couple of ratty teak chaises and end tables, a trash can overflowing with empty bottles of Corona Light, and a large potted fern that looked half dead, but the city of Phoenix surrounded her, full of lights and sparkle and noise.

“It’s beautiful!” Emma breathed. “How did you know this was up here?”

Ethan walked over to the railing and tipped his face up to the night sky. “My mom was sick for a while. She had a lot of doctor’s appointments around here. I got to know the city pretty well.”

“Is she … okay?” Emma asked softly. Ethan had never told her about his mom being sick.

Ethan shrugged, seeming a little closed off. “I guess so. As good as she can be.” He stared out at the twinkling lights. “She had cancer. But she’s okay now, I think.”

“I’m sorry,” Emma breathed.

“It’s cool,” Ethan said. “I was the one who helped her through it, though. You know how I told you my dad practically lives in San Diego? Well, he never came back for any of her chemo treatments. It blew.”

“Maybe he couldn’t deal with her being sick,” Emma said. “Some people don’t handle that stuff very well.”

“Yeah, well, he should have,” Ethan snapped, his eyes flashing.

Emma backed off. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

Ethan shut his eyes. “I’m sorry.” He sighed. “I’ve never really told anyone about my mom. But, well, I want us to be totally honest with each other. I want us to share everything.

Even if it’s bad. I hope you share everything with me, too.” Emma breathed in, feeling both touched and horribly guilty. There was something huge she wasn’t sharing with Ethan: the prank against him. Should she say something?

Would he be angry that she’d let it go on for so long without telling him? Maybe it was better just to say nothing and figure out a way to thwart the prank before it happened.

What Ethan didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him.

Way to be totally honest, Sis. But I understood the predicament she was in.

Emma wrapped her arms around Ethan’s waist and leaned her cheek against his back. He turned around and hugged her to him, kissing her forehead. “Can we stay here forever?” she asked with a sigh. “It’s so wonderful not being Sutton for once. Just being … me.”

“We can stay as long as you’d like,” Ethan promised.

“Or, well, at least until we have to go to school tomorrow.” Cars honked on the streets below. A helicopter zoomed overhead, sending a single white beam to a source near the mountains. A car alarm blared, cycling through a series of irritating beeps and whoops and buzzes until someone shut it off.

But as she stood warm and safe in Ethan’s arms, Emma decided this was the most romantic date she’d ever been on.

16

THE MAKEUP

On Sunday afternoon, Emma, Madeline, Charlotte, Laurel, and the Twitter Twins waited in line at Pam’s Pretzels, a shoddy stand propped in a corner of La Encantada on the outskirts of Tucson. Even though Sutton’s friends had sworn off carbs, the pretzels were worth breaking their diets for.

They were covered in Mexican queso and contained a spice combination that was, as Madeline put it, “better than sex.” The smell of baked bread and mustard infused the air.

Customers swooned as they took big, doughy bites. One woman looked like she was actually going to faint with pleasure as she chewed.

The line was long, and a bunch of college-age boys in band T-shirts and long, grungy hair stood in front of them.

Madeline was inching away from them as though they had fleas. Charlotte, whose flaming red hair was tied back in a severe bun, elbowed Laurel, who was busy texting something to Caleb. “Does that bring back fond memories?” she said, gesturing to a four-by-four-foot raised garden box covered with felt.

Laurel giggled at what Charlotte was pointing at. “That Christmas tree was so much heavier than it looked. And I had tinsel in my hair for days.” She shook her hair around for effect.

Madeline covered her mouth and let out a snort. “That was priceless.”

“Seriously,” Emma said, even though she had no idea what the girls were talking about—probably an old Lying Game prank.

Game prank.

The line moved quickly, and soon it was the Twitter Twins’ turn. “One pretzel with queso, extra dipping sauce.” Lili shifted her weight from one black knee-high stiletto boot to the other. The other girls ordered more or less the same thing, and once the pretzels were ready they carried them to a courtyard table and sat down. Only Emma and Madeline lingered at the fixin’s bar, slowly salting their treats.

Emma looked around. The outdoor mall was bustling today with girls in short shorts, batwing-sleeved blouses, and high wedge heels. Everyone toted carrier bags from Tiffany, Anthropologie, and Tory Burch. She craned her neck and noticed the vintage store on the second level. Not long ago, she and Madeline had gone to that vintage store and had a great time. She’d felt like Emma that day, not The Girl Who Was Supposed to Be Sutton.

Madeline breathed in. When Emma turned, she noticed that Madeline was looking up at the vintage store, too. Then she faced Emma, her expression contemplative and a little awkward. “Listen, I don’t want to be pissed at you anymore,” she said.

“I don’t want you to be pissed at me either!” Emma exclaimed gratefully.

Madeline lifted a hand to shade her eyes. “No matter how upset I am about Thayer, I know him disappearing isn’t your fault. I’m really sorry I’ve been so awful to you.” Relief coursed through Emma. “I’m sorry, too. I can’t imagine what this has been like for you and your family, and I’m sorry if I made things worse in any way.” Madeline opened a packet of mustard with her teeth.

“You do have a way of causing drama, Sutton. But you have to tell me the truth. You really don’t know why my brother showed up in your room?”

“I really don’t. I promise.”

A long beat went by. Madeline inspected Emma carefully, as though trying to read her mind. “Okay,” she said finally. “I believe you.”

Emma let out a breath. “Good, because I’ve missed you,” she said.

“I missed you, too.”

They hugged fiercely. Emma squeezed her eyes shut, but suddenly she got the distinct feeling someone was staring at her. She opened her eyes and looked into the dark parking garage next to the pretzel kiosk. She thought she saw someone crouch behind a car. But when she squinted harder, she didn’t see anyone.

Madeline linked her arms through Emma’s as they rejoined the girls. Charlotte grinned, looking relieved, too.

“I have exciting news, ladies,” Madeline announced.

“We’re throwing a party on Friday night.”

“We are?” the Twitter Twins asked in unison, whipping out their iPhones, excited to break the news to their rabid foll owers. “Where?”

“You’ll know when you know,” Madeline said cryptically.

“I’m only telling Sutton, Char, and Laurel.” She narrowed her eyes on Gabby and Lili. “It’s super private so we don’t get caught, and you guys aren’t exactly good at keeping secrets.”

Gabby’s plump lips popped into their trademark pout.

“Fine,” Lili said with an overdramatic sigh.

Laurel tossed the remnants of her pretzel into a garbage bin wrapped in a bright green poster that read, CAN IT FOR A BETTER PLANET! She adjusted the buckle closure on the strap of her bag. “What can we do to help?

And what’s the dress code? Sundresses?”

Madeline took a long swig of lemon-lime seltzer. “It’ll start at ten, but we’ll have to get there early to set up. Leave the catering and drinks to me and Char. You handle the guest list, Laurel, and Sutton, you put together a playlist.

And as for dress code, maybe shorts, heels, and a dressy top? Definitely something new. C’mon. Let’s get shopping.” She grabbed Emma’s hand and pulled her up. Emma smiled, appreciating Madeline’s olive branch. The girls walked to a boutique called Castor and Poll ux. As soon as they passed through the front doors, the smell of new clothes and sugary perfume swirled in their nostrils. Glassy-eyed mannequins dressed in pleated chiffon skirts and herringbone jackets posed with their hands on their narrow hips. Stiletto heels much higher than anything Emma had ever worn lined the perimeter of the store.

“These would look awesome on you, Sutton,” Charlotte said, holding up a silver wedge.

Emma took it from her and discreetly checked the price. Four hundred seventy-five dollars? She tried not to swallow her tongue as she set it back down. Even though she’d been here for a month, she still wasn’t used to the way Sutton’s friends shopped with abandon. The cost of each individual item in Sutton’s closet was close to what Emma normally spent on an entire year’s wardrobe. And that was a good year—when she was fourteen, she didn’t have money for any new clothes. Her foster mother, Gwen, who lived in a tiny town thirty miles from Vegas, insisted on sewing all of her foster kids’ back-to-school outfits on a 1960s Singer sewing machine—she considered herself something of a fashion designer. Worse, Gwen was into gothic romance, which meant Emma started eighth grade wearing long, flowing velvet skirts, cream blouses that resembled corsets, and hand-me-down Birkenstocks.