“Ha, ha.” Sydney jabbed Calum playfully in the side with her elbow. He’d spent all summer teasing her about her sugar addiction, baffled that someone as obsessed with dessert as she was could be so skinny. Genetics, she always told him. Her mom was the same way.
“I had tofu lasagna for dinner tonight, thank you very much,” she sniffed.
“I’ll believe that when I see it.” A blond curl flopped into Calum’s eyes, and he absently pushed it away. “I think I have a remedy to our problem,” he announced. “Isn’t there a new gallery on Art Walk? Galileo Gallery? Let’s go check it out this week.”
Sydney raised her eyebrows at him. Art Walk was a long line of galleries in Echo Bay’s downtown area, owned by and featuring mostly local artists. It was one of her favorite things about her hometown: the abundance of artists who lived there. But whereas Sydney was all right brain, Calum was all left—the top science and math student in Winslow Academy, with a practically guaranteed acceptance into MIT in the fall. No surprise, really, considering who his dad was. Sam Bauer was a self-made tech billionaire who was supposedly now working on a high-profile project for government security. Not exactly the type to frequent Art Walk. “You want to go to a gallery?”
Calum shrugged. “I figure if I’m ever going to like a gallery, it will be that one. Galileo is my people, after all.”
Sydney burst out laughing. “Does that make Ansel Adams my people?”
“We should set up a double date sometime,” Calum quipped.
“Sure, I’ll just give Ansel a call.” Sydney rolled her eyes dramatically.
“You jest,” Calum said, pointing a finger at her, “but I think you are a lot like Mr. Adams, Syd. There are all these imitators and wannabes out there. Just copycats, you know? But you’re the real thing.” He smiled at her, looking almost shy. “A real artist.”
Sydney froze. She barely heard the compliment; she was too stuck on what he’d said before that.
Imitators and wannabes. Copycats.
Her palms began to sweat.
Of course.
“The gallery sounds great,” she told Calum hastily. “But I should probably get going. My mom will be home from her hospital shift soon.” She said a quick good-bye before hurrying to her car.
What Calum had said had given her an idea. Whoever was doing this was imitating Tricia. A copycat. Which meant it had to be someone who knew her… probably well.
Maybe this could help them! It gave her a shot of hope as she sped toward her apartment. More than anything, she missed her old life. A life where she didn’t have Tenley Reed breathing down her neck about parties—or cops. A life where RISD actually seemed within reach. A life where she never had to interact with Emerson Cunningham, the girl who’d once spilled an entire grape soda on her freshman year and never bothered to apologize. It didn’t surprise her that her dad had chosen the most shallow girl in her grade to have an affair with, but Sydney should at least have the luxury of being able to ignore her. If Emerson was getting dares now, too, though, that would be impossible.
They had to figure out who this copycat darer was before this went any further. And she had the perfect first step. She swung her car into her apartment’s lot and slammed to a stop. Grabbing her phone, she opened up a text to Tenley. New mission: Start looking into Tricia’s inner circle at school tomorrow. We HAVE to find this darer.
Inside her apartment building, she stopped by the mailboxes, knowing there was probably several days’ worth of mail piled up inside. On a good day her mom tended to forget such minutiae as getting the mail or going to the grocery store, or where exactly she’d left her keys. And thanks to her budding reconciliation with Sydney’s dad, she’d been more distracted than ever lately. Just the thought made Sydney’s blood boil.
So many times this past month Sydney had wanted to tell her mom about Emerson. Tracey Morgan had this stubborn blindness when it came to her ex-husband, and sometimes Sydney thought a cold, hard dose of the truth was the only cure. But at the last minute she always stopped herself. She’d seen the pain that settled into the lines of her mom’s face whenever Sydney’s dad let her down in the past. She couldn’t be the one to do that to her again. So, instead, she’d stood idly by while her mom spiraled deeper and deeper into the black hole of Matt Morgan.
Sydney turned her focus back to the mailbox. It was packed, just as she’d predicted. She reached in to gather up the envelopes when she noticed a small velvet jewelry box perched on top of the pile. The jewelry box wasn’t in a package, and it had no postage on it. Someone had hand-delivered it. A card sat underneath.
Sydney went icy cold all over. The darer had already targeted Tenley and Emerson tonight. This had to be her turn. Slowly, she reached for the card. Her fingers were stiff as she flipped it open.
Her whole body relaxed. The card had been printed off a regular computer. There wasn’t a typewriter letter in sight.
S: Something blue to cure your blues.
She frowned. What did that mean?
Curious, she popped open the jewelry box. Inside, nestled on a bed of white silk, was a stunning ring. It was simple—a round sapphire set on a thin, gold band—but the stone itself was incredible: a deep, midnight blue and filled with facets. She couldn’t resist slipping it on. It fit perfectly.
“Guinness,” she murmured. It had to be from him. He was the only person she knew who could afford a ring this nice. He’d been calling her nonstop lately, and she hadn’t picked up once. This must be his attempt at making her listen. She bit down on her lip. After her mom had given her the gold band she always wore on her pointer finger as a symbol of better times ahead, Guinness had joked that one day he’d give her his own “symbol,” and he promised it wouldn’t be a plain band. Of course, he would choose a blue stone—a reminder of his nickname for her. Blue, in honor of the turquoise-blue eyes he claimed made her so photogenic. Guinness knew where she and her mom kept their extra mail key; he could have easily found a way to sneak this into their mailbox sometime in the past few days.
Sydney touched a finger to the ring, a thousand emotions charging through her at once. She was touched and a little thrilled and, at the same time, so, so sad. Because as beautiful as the ring was, and as sweet as the gesture was, it wouldn’t change a thing. It couldn’t. She’d ended things with Guinness for a reason. He’d treated her poorly, taken her for granted. No matter how much she missed him, she had to stick to that decision. She’d watched her mom become a living doormat. She had no plans for a repeat performance of her own.
The sound of a door slamming jolted her back to the present. She started, bumping her shoulder into the mailboxes. A minute later old Mr. Lehman limped by, giving her a toothless smile as he passed.
Sydney sagged against the wall. It was just a neighbor; no darer in sight. But that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be soon. She slid the ring off her finger, placing it gently back in its box. She had bigger things to think about than Guinness.
The copycat darer was out there… maybe even watching her. And until she figured out who it was, she had to be on the lookout, too.
CHAPTER FOUR
Tuesday, 6:25 AM
Emerson stared down at her makeup box. She’d woken up before her alarm, and she knew the early morning would show on her face. But her thoughts had been too frenzied to give sleep another go. She couldn’t stop rehashing the events of last night. The text, the package, and, of course, Tenley’s late-night call. She’d told Emerson about Sydney’s theory: This new darer was acting too much like Tricia not to have known her… maybe even well.
Emerson grabbed absently at several tubes of makeup. She hated having anything to do with Sydney. Just hearing her name sent waves of shame rolling through her. It didn’t matter that Sydney was completely in the dark about the affair. She was still a walking, talking reminder of Emerson’s mistake. If Sydney had bothered her before—was it really normal for anyone to wear plaid flannel that often?—it had gotten ten times worse these past few months. Being around Sydney Morgan was like hearing nails scrape down a chalkboard. Again and again and again.
Still, she had to admit Sydney made a good point. Whoever was doing this clearly knew Tricia’s moves. Plus, the rabbit’s foot that had been returned to her had been missing for over a month—since before Tricia’s death. Either this darer had been around all along, or he or she had known Tricia well enough to be able to pilfer her spoils. All night long Emerson had tossed and turned, trying to think of who had been closest to Tricia. Every time, she came back to the same person: Sean. They’d been dating before she died. If anyone knew what Tricia was up to, it was Sean Hale.
Emerson hated the idea that one of her own friends could be doing this, but when she’d texted Tenley a few minutes ago, they’d both agreed: They couldn’t overlook it. They were going to poke around at lunch today, see if Sean seemed at all suspicious. Tenley had brought up going to the cops, too, but she’d agreed to hold off until they looked into Sean. If they could just find this darer and put an end to this… it would be best for everyone.