Or maybe, I thought, they were tiptoeing around me to make sure I didn’t play a Lying Game prank on them.
After watching a few more matches, Emma headed to the locker room. Coach Maggie caught Emma’s attention from the next court over and raised her fingers in a sympathetic wave. She tapped the base of her chin and mouthed Keep your head up.
The locker room was cool and smelled like freshly scoured tile. The brightly colored food-pyramid poster had come unpinned on one side and hung lopsided. A gaggle of girls in bathing suits pushed through the swinging doors that led into the locker room from the pool. The thick stench of chlorine filled the air as they made their way to the showers.
Emma turned in to a row of blue-gray lockers and found Laurel had made it there first. She had already changed out of her tennis gear into snug-fitting sweat shorts and a white tee and was sitting cross-legged on the long wooden bench, her back turned. Her iPhone was poised at her ear, and she was saying something in a hushed voice. It sounded like If she’s truly loyal, she’ll go along with it.
“Excuse me,” she interrupted, resting Sutton’s racket against the bench.
Laurel jumped an inch and dropped her phone. “Oh.
Hey.” Her face turned bright red, and Emma realized with a jolt that Laurel must have been talking about her. But what had the words meant?
Emma twirled the combination lock to Sutton’s sports locker between her fingers. The door popped open with a clank. She stuffed Sutton’s sneakers into the locker and checked her reflection in the small magnetic mirror.
“Nice effort today,” Laurel said sarcastically. “I guess you can’t win them all, huh?”
“Whatever,” Emma shot back. She was too tired to get into a bitchy fight with Laurel right now.
“Seriously, though,” Laurel said. “When was the last time you lost to me or Nisha? No offense, Sutton, but Clara was playing well. It was you who wasn’t.” Nerves jumped in Emma’s stomach. Talk about an understatement. She hadn’t been playing well since she’d taken over Sutton’s life. “I guess I’m just off my game lately,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant.
Laurel adjusted the strap of her gold sandal and rose from the bench. “I’ll say.” She gave Emma a knowing look.
“Maybe someone’s just distracted because she has to prank her secret boyfriend.”
Emma bit her lip and stared into Sutton’s locker.
“Lili texted me. She set up the website our fake poet is going to post Ethan’s work to,” Laurel announced.
“She did?” Emma asked weakly.
“Yep! But you can still call it off. You know what you have to do to make that happen!” Laurel trilled. Then she jingled her car keys. “I’m taking Drake to the groomer’s at six. Don’t let Mom start dinner without me.” She turned and waltzed from the locker room.
Emma listened as the door slammed, then let out a sigh. Slowly, she kicked off her tennis sneakers and slid on Sutton’s espadril es. A figure sidled up beside her, and when Emma turned, she saw Clara standing at the end of the aisle, an apologetic smile on her face.
“Is it okay if I grab my stuff?” she asked.
“Of course,” Emma said, laughing.
Clara scuttled to her locker. Emma glanced inside, noting how precisely her extra T-shirts were folded, and how she kept her deodorant, shampoo, and body wash in a line at the bottom. Then, her breath caught in her chest. The metal bottom of Clara’s locker was a full two inches lower than Sutton’s.
Clara noticed her looking and flinched. “Oh, God. I usually keep my locker much neater than this.” Emma stared at her. Did Clara think she was going to punish her or something? “Don’t be silly. I was actually admiring how organized it was.”
“Really?” Clara’s eyes lit up. And then she bit her lip nervously. “Hey, Sutton, I heard there was going to be a top-secret party this Friday. Maybe at an abandoned house or something?”
“That’s right,” Emma said. Madeline had told her the details about the party, saying that it was in a house that had been foreclosed upon months ago. She took in Clara’s eager expression, then stepped forward. “Do you want to come? I can text you the details.”
“Really?” Clara looked like she was going to keel over with delight. “That would be amazing!”
Clara thanked Emma at least six more times before she finished up, grabbed her stuff, and disappeared.
Emma looked around the locker room. It was full of kids on the tennis and swim teams. There was no way she could investigate Sutton’s locker right now. She’d have to wait in a quiet corner until the school emptied out … and then make her move.
By seven, the school was completely silent. The lights flickered off, shrouding Emma in darkness where she sat outside the library. A few teachers passed by on the way to their cars, but no one asked why she was there. Finally, she made her way back down the hallway and reentered the girls’ locker room. The door shut behind her, leaving her blind in the pitch-black darkness. The smell of bleach barely masked the dull stench of sweaty gym clothes. Water dripped in the showers, and a sighlike sound echoed in the air.
Emma groped for the light switch, and ugly fluorescent light filled the locker room. She made her way to Sutton’s locker, her fingers trembling as she turned the lock. She emptied out sneakers, pink-trimmed tennis socks, a box of Band-Aids, and spray-on sunscreen, tossing them all onto the bench. She stuck her fingers into the corner of the locker and pried open the base, flinching at the metal scraping noise that reverberated through the empty room.