Secrets and Lies(45)

The field exploded into a frenzy of excitement as the Anaswan players sulked off to their buses. “Come on, Em!” Jessie grabbed her hand to pull her onto the field, but Emerson shook her off. She could see Tenley over by the bleachers, waving at her.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she said.

Jessie gave her a strange look, but it quickly vanished as she bounced onto the field, throwing her arms around Tyler.

“Behind the bleachers,” Tenley murmured when Emerson reached her. She’d clearly scouted out a spot already, because she led Emerson to an empty area a ways down, where they were shielded by a tall line of trash cans. In the distance, the voices of the crowd melted into a wall of white noise. “If you haven’t checked your phone yet, Sydney’s in for tonight,” Tenley informed her.

Emerson tensed a little. It was a good thing, she reminded herself. The more people to face off against Abby, the better chance they stood. “What changed her mind?”

“She got a text, too. ‘It’s do or die,’ ” Tenley recited grimly. “ ‘And I expect you to be there to hear the results.’ ” She scowled. “Clearly, Abby is obsessed with making sure Delancey wins tonight.”

“Her purity partner in crime,” Emerson spat out. “Well, we’ll play along. Then when Abby’s defenses are down: Wham!” She slapped her hands together. “We’ll make sure Delancey winning queen is the last thing on her mind.” Suddenly Emerson cocked her head. “Oh my god, Tenley. That’s it! Maybe that’s what this was about all along. Think about it: Abby was the one who sent out that Homecoming Nomination Memo, right? So she probably knew days ahead of time who was nominated. This could be why she continued with Tricia’s charade in the first place—and why she added me to the game. To make sure Delancey won queen.”

Tenley adjusted the sheer blue blouse she was wearing over a white tank top, looking disgusted. “Who cares that much about homecoming?”

Emerson looked away, fixing her gaze on a patch of trampled grass. “Someone truly insane.”

“I told Sydney to meet us at six thirty tonight so we can take our names out of the running before we deal with Abby,” Tenley told her. “That way, we’re taking no chances.”

Emerson nodded, but before she could say anything, the phone Tenley was clutching in her hand let out a beep. They both went still. Their eyes darted toward the phone.

All Emerson could think was: It’s her. “Look at it,” she said tightly.

Slowly, Tenley wrenched her fingers off the screen. “It’s just my mom,” she breathed. “It looks like Lanson is shipping Guinness off to rehab tonight instead of tomorrow, and he wants us to visit him as a family first.” Tenley pressed her lips into a straight line. “I have to go, but I’ll see you tonight.”

“I’ll be the one dressed all pretty for our darer,” Emerson replied. She leaned back against the bleachers as she watched Tenley go. If she listened hard, she could just make out Jessie’s voice lifting through the air, still shouting out cheers. That girl never stopped. Emerson knew she should go join them; Marta was probably looking for her at this very moment. But she wasn’t sure she could fake even one more minute of rah-rah-rah. She headed to the parking lot instead.

She gave herself a pep talk as she drove home. Tonight they’d put an end to this. And then her life could finally, finally move on. As she climbed up the porch of her house, she tried to imagine what it would feel like to have a bad-hair day be the worst of her problems. Heaven, she decided.

“Emerson?”

At the sound of Josh’s voice, she jumped a solid two feet into the air. She whipped around to find him standing in her yard. His half Mohawk flopped messily over to one side, and he was carrying an ancient-looking boom box.

“Whoa, I come in peace!” He gave her one of his heart-melting, you-amuse-me smiles. “And offering music.” He hit play on the boom box. Peter Gabriel’s “In Your Eyes” blasted through the yard at top volume, making the porch vibrate.

“My eardrums!” Emerson sprinted down the stairs and spun the volume dial. The song lowered to a whisper. “Are you trying to get half the neighborhood out here?”

“If it makes you talk to me, then sure.” Josh turned the music up again, just a little. Peter Gabriel’s voice wound around them like a warm breeze.

Emerson fought the smile tugging at her lips. It was the scene from her favorite movie: Lloyd Dobler holding the Peter Gabriel–blasting boom box up under Diane Court’s window. Emerson had watched Say Anything for the first time when she was ten years old, and still she remembered how wonderingly she’d stared at the TV during that scene. I want that one day, she’d thought. Someone who loves me enough to tell the whole world.

She looked up at Josh. His expression was serious, intent. Her stomach did a flip.

“You’ve got to talk to me, Em,” Josh said. “I’m going crazy here. One minute you’re hot, the next you’re cold…” He sighed. “I don’t know what to think anymore.”

Emerson dug the toe of her shoe into the grass. She wished so badly she could just tell him everything: every single sordid detail of her life since New York. Wipe her slate clean. But how could she? She felt like one of those vaults in the club: piled high with secrets and locked up tight.

“I need to know why you left that summer, Emerson.” Josh took her hand. Heat pulsed through her body. “The truth.” He nodded down at the boom box. “I mean, come on: I’m reenacting a romantic comedy here. An eighties romantic comedy. You owe me that much.”

Emerson took a deep breath. “The truth,” she repeated. That day flashed through her mind: the photographer, the back room, her clothes discarded on the floor. She’d held the secret inside for so long. “I—I made a mistake that summer,” she said slowly.

Josh smiled encouragingly at her. The gesture sent another wave of heat pulsing through her. She opened her mouth again, but this time no words came out.

After tonight, Abby would be gone—the game would finally be over. She could go back to living her own life, making her own choices. She looked down at Josh’s hand, still holding hers. Their hands had always fit together perfectly, like conjoining pieces of a puzzle.

Never in her life had a choice been so shimmeringly crystal clear.

Josh. She wanted Josh. She wanted to hear his laugh and feel his touch and make him smile. She wanted to take walks with him and read his writing. She wanted to love him enough to tell the whole world.

She wanted it so badly, she was willing to lie to get it. Lie not to hurt him.

“My mistake… was getting scared,” she continued. “Things got so serious with us so fast that summer and… I just freaked. I was immature. I should have told you. But instead I ran.” She paused. The lie felt heavy on her tongue, but the relief written across Josh’s face was clear.

“That’s it?” he breathed. He put the boom box down at his feet. “That’s really it?”

She nodded soundlessly, not trusting herself to speak.

A smile took over Josh’s face. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him. He smelled like beach and leather, like Echo Bay and New York. Like a memory come to life. Her whole body sang, every fiber shot through with happiness.

For so long she’d tried to evade her feelings, to bury and fool them, mask and hide them. But they’d always been there, simmering beneath the surface. You could kick love away and you could trample it down, but you couldn’t erase it. “I missed you so much,” she whispered.

She looked up, meeting his eyes. They were more green than brown in the afternoon sunlight, and they had a glossy sheen to them. Emerson’s jaw came unhinged. “Is Josh Wright, the antihero, rom-com cynic himself, actually crying?”

“Of course not!” Josh’s cheeks flushed. “More like… watering.” He leaned down until his lips brushed her ear. There was only a sliver of space between them. “I’m glad you’re back,” he whispered. Then he turned his head and he kissed her. Her heart lifted and her stomach flip-flopped and she pulled him even closer, never wanting this feeling to end.

When they finally broke apart, she felt a thousand pounds lighter, as if all her fears and worries had been vacuumed right up. She was filled with a sudden urge to ask Josh. Next time, she promised herself. Once Abby was just a distant memory. For now, she settled for kissing him again.

Emerson felt happier than she had in weeks when she finally made it into her house a little while later. She jogged up to her room, already thinking about what makeup to wear tonight. Gold hues, she decided. Gold was always festive. And the end of Abby deserved nothing less. Plus it looked good against her black hair. In fact, maybe she’d ask her mom if she could borrow her gold neck—

She never got to finish that thought.

Her foot collided with something in the doorway of her bedroom, sending her careening forward. She landed with a thud on her side. Lying tipped over next to her was Holden’s cage.

Holden lay inside it, his body tilted at a strange angle. “Holden?” she whispered.