Tears prick at the corners of my eyes. I never realized Laurel was taking things this hard. I never knew she felt this lonely. Would I rather leave her out of the Lying Game? Yes. But how guilty would I feel for weeks—months—years—if I did? Was it worth it?
A memory washes over me: Laurel and I are in my bedroom, making up a dance we were going to put on for our parents. I can’t remember all the steps, but I remember both of us laughing hysterically at a move where we pretended we were cowgirls twirling invisible lassos. That night, like almost every night when we were that age, Laurel had curled up in my bed beside me, her hand tucked in mine.
And suddenly, I realize that I miss Laurel, too. What changed? Where did it go wrong? Why did it all far apart? In that moment, sitting in the dark with my crying sister, I feel as though I’ve lost something huge, something way more important than my locket. And I don’t even know how to get it back.
Then, just like that, I decide. I reach down, slipping her charm bracelet off my wrist. I unwind her arms from her legs and drop the bracelet into her outstretched hand. “Take it. It’s yours. Pretend you found it first.”
Laurel gazes at me. With her free hand, she wipes her eyes again. “What? Are you serious?”
I grit my teeth, not believing it myself. “Apparently, yes.” I throw my hands up in the air. “Whatever. You can be part of the Lying Game. Okay?”
Laurel sniffs again, a devilish smile spreading across her face. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out her cell phone. “I recorded you saying that, you know?”
“Fine, whatever.” I roll my eyes. “Don’t make a huge thing about it.”
“So no take-backs. I have my proof,” Laurel says, starting to get up and shaking out her ankle. I quickly put my shoulder under her arm to take some of her weight.
“Right, I get it. Now let’s get this ankle looked at, okay?”
“Oh, I’ll be fine,” Laurel says as she limps toward the exit of the haunted house. “No pain, no gain, right?”
“I have to admit—recording me was smart.” I glance at her sideways, her bracelet jangling in the silence. “You might be an asset to the group after all.”
“Of course I will be,” she says as we reach the door underneath the neon EXIT sign. “I did learn from the best.”
“Good point,” I say with a smile and, giggling, we push the door open together, the cool night air rushing toward us.
13
SEEING DOUBLE
Even though it’s getting late and we need to start our long drive home soon, we head to Le Cirque for a celebratory dinner. The walls are adorned with vibrant murals, and the ceiling is tented in a soft, elegant approximation of a circus big top. Bright yellow roses sit at the center of every table, casting a buttery glow over the white linen tablecloths, and dangling chandeliers in rich blue Murano glass light the space warmly. Conversation is low over the clatter of silverware, and our server places a silver ice bucket beside our table with a promise to come by with a bottle of Veuve momentarily.
“The perks of being a ‘celebrity,’” I joke, adjusting the strap of my one-shouldered minidress—Mads and Char returned all my luggage to me after the game ended. “The champagne never stops flowing.”
“Oh, Sutton. The first prank. Seems like just yesterday.” Charlotte tilts her head to the side and softens her eyes in a fake-nostalgic gaze. The braids she’s wound into her hair catch the overhead light, glinting copper.
“It was just yesterday,” Madeline says with a snort. She straightens in her seat, pulling her faux-fur shrug over her shoulders. “And now, I think it’s time for the official initiation to begin.”
Charlotte clears her throat and taps her fork against her champagne flute lightly. “Hear ye, hear ye.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh my God. Come on.” I love Char, but leave it to her to dork out over this whole moment.
“Hear ye,” she insists. “The official Lying Game initiation of Laurel Mercer shall now commence.” She reaches into her embossed Lauren Merkin clutch and pulls out a white laminated card.
Mads giggles, winding a lock of hair around her finger. “We made that at a booth on the strip before you guys got to the amusement park.”
I whip my head up. “You made her a card before she even got in?”
Mads shrugs. “We wouldn’t have given it to her if she didn’t win the challenge, but we wanted to have it ready just in case.”
Char slides the card to Laurel. “I dub thee: Head Sneaky Bitch and Director of Velvet Rope-Hopping. Welcome to the Lying Game.”
Laurel skims the writing on the card and squeals. We all clink glasses, and it’s done.