Cross My Heart, Hope to Die (4 page)

“These shirts are
so
lame,” Laurel whined, pulling at the collar of her blue cotton tee. “Why couldn’t they have gotten American Apparel instead of Hanes Beefy-Ts?”

It was a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and Emma, Sutton’s friends, and the Mercer family were gathered in Saguaro National Park for the annual Hollier High Parent-Student Football Fun Fest—that was what the banner arching over their heads called it, anyway. An artificially green swath of grass splayed out before them, and a bunch of families flipped burgers on the public barbecues and loaded plates with potato salad and watermelon slices. Little kids tumbled across the freshly chalked lines of the football field, playing freeze tag. Mr. Mercer tossed a U-of-A-branded football in the air, seeming pumped for the flag football game that was about to begin.

Emma laughed, tucking her own red shirt into Sutton’s mesh Adidas shorts. “It’s a fund-raiser. I’m sure the shirts were donated.”

Charlotte Chamberlain rolled her eyes. “My mom does plenty of fund-raisers. Everyone knows if you want to get big money, you have to spend big money. Last year she held a raffle for a vintage Chanel coat and got three times what it was worth.”

“What was the charity?” asked Madeline Vega, another one of Sutton’s friends, who was tall and lithe next to Charlotte’s short and curvy frame.

Charlotte shrugged, pulling her reddish curls into a ponytail. “Does it matter?”

There was shuffling and giggling behind them, and the girls turned. The Twitter Twins, Gabriella and Lilianna Fiorello, twirled over. They’d come dressed in short cheerleader outfits—Lili in black and red, with giant safety pins pierced through the skirt, and Gabby in sky blue and white, her blond hair in a high ponytail. Both of them carried sparkly pompoms and made a lot of noise when they shook them.

“Oh my God,
what
are you guys wearing?” Madeline snickered.

“It’s
ironic
, duh,” Gabby trilled, lifting a pompom high in the air.

Emma smiled at all of them. These were Sutton’s friends, but she’d begun to think of them as her friends, too. Aside from Alex, her best friend from Henderson, she’d never been close to any girls, let alone a whole group of them. It was a nice feeling, even if she couldn’t talk to them about her actual problems.

I wasn’t sure I had talked to my friends about my serious problems either. We loved each other with a fierce loyalty, but we weren’t the best at saying it. I think we were all so focused on maintaining our fabulous images that we forgot they weren’t always real.

Emma pulled her hair into a knot and did some deep knee bends to stretch. Her legs still ached from chasing Becky’s car, but she’d gotten a lot stronger while pretending to be Sutton—she’d had tennis practice almost every day.

“Oh my God, Sutton, are you actually
playing
this year?” Madeline asked, incredulous.

“I thought I’d try something new,” Emma said lightly. Though football clearly hadn’t been Sutton’s thing, she was actually looking forward to this game. The closest thing to a family outing she’d ever had in foster care was a trip to the recycling center to turn in soda cans. She loved that the Mercers had annual traditions like this. Plus, it was just the kind of distraction she needed after the panic of receiving another note from Sutton’s murderer.

“But you always complain about how much you hate grass stains and that Dad’s end-zone shuffle makes you want to die of embarrassment,” Laurel said cautiously.

Emma elbowed Laurel, grinning. “Scared I’ll beat you, little sis?”

“You wish.” Laurel laughed. “Bring it on!”

Emma surveyed the field. Besides Sutton’s friends, plenty of other kids from Hollier were gathered to play. Emma waved at Nisha Banerjee, who sipped an iced tea under the awning, and Nisha gave her a friendly wave back. Nisha and Sutton had been rivals, both on the tennis court and off, but Emma had recently forged a tentative friendship with her. Sutton’s ex-boyfriend Garrett Austin was here, too, sharing a hot dog with his younger sister, a sophomore with Buddy Holly glasses and purple hair. Emma avoided catching his eye—she’d broken his heart after he’d offered his willing body to her on her birthday.

Charlotte grabbed her by the elbow. “Don’t look now, but you have an admirer.”

Emma glanced around, looking for Ethan, but it was Thayer whose eyes she met. He stood in a group of guys across the field. The other boys were punching each other on the arm and horsing around, but Thayer just stared at Emma. When she caught his eye, he grinned bashfully and looked down.

He meant that look for me
, I repeated to myself, but knowing it didn’t make it any easier to watch.

“Here we go again,” Madeline groaned.

“What?” Emma turned to her friends. They were all watching her with varying degrees of skepticism on their faces. She swallowed nervously. It wasn’t that hard to guess what they were thinking—that something was going on between her and Thayer. Ever since he’d returned to Tucson, things between Emma and Sutton’s friends had been a bit tense. Charlotte hated the fact that Sutton always seemed to get all the guys—which Sutton hadn’t exactly helped when she’d stolen Garrett from Charlotte several months ago. Madeline didn’t think Sutton was good for Thayer, who was recovering from his alcohol addiction. And as for Laurel, she and Thayer had been best friends for a long time. She’d always had a crush on him, which had made it especially humiliating when Sutton decided to go for him. Emma could only imagine how upset Laurel had been when she found out Thayer was meeting her sister in secret the whole time he was supposedly missing.

“You guys, it’s not like that!” Emma said, hoping to avoid what was clearly a touchy subject. “Thayer and I are just friends.”

“Oh yeah?” Charlotte looked across the field at Thayer, whose eyes were still locked on Emma. “That’s a friendly look he’s sending you.”

Emma felt her face getting warm. Fending off boys was a new experience for her. She’d never stayed in one school long enough to connect with any would-be boyfriends. She leaned over to retie her shoelaces, trying to ignore Charlotte’s accusing glance.

When she straightened, she noticed another familiar figure on the other side of the field, and her heart lifted. She waved at Ethan, but he didn’t seem to see her. Then she caught his expression. He was watching Thayer with fire in his eyes. Emma recoiled. She knew he was jealous of Thayer, but she had never seen him look so venomous before.

“Ethan!” she yelled, but the crowd shifted and he disappeared from her line of sight.

“So which one of them are you bringing to my party in two Saturdays?” Charlotte asked with a smirk.

“You’re having a party? Since when?” Madeline interrupted, fingering the collar of her T-shirt, which she’d cut into a boat neck.

“Since about an hour ago,” Charlotte said coyly. “I just found out my parents are going to Vegas that weekend. We can’t let an opportunity like that pass us by, can we?”

“Nice,” Gabby whispered, reaching for her iPhone and starting to type. Lili followed suit. In twenty seconds, the whole school would know about it, thanks to their Twitter feeds.

“Well, I’m taking Ethan, obviously,” Emma said. She looked for him across the field again, hoping she’d just imagined the terrifying look he’d given Thayer. A headline popped into her mind, an old habit from the days of imagining herself an investigative journalist:
Rumored Love Triangle Drives Teen Couple Apart; Details on Page 11
.

The referee blew his whistle, signaling the players to assemble in the middle of the field. Emma, Madeline, and Charlotte were with Mr. Mercer on the red team. Ethan joined them, giving Emma a kiss on her cheek. Laurel and Mrs. Mercer stood on the other side in blue, along with Nisha and Thayer.

“You’re going down!” Laurel screamed at Emma from across the field. Emma rolled her eyes good-naturedly. Not long ago, a threat like that from Laurel would have scared her, but she and Laurel were now on good terms. And Laurel
definitely
wasn’t Sutton’s murderer.

“Okay, everyone,” Mr. Mercer said, tucking a yellow flag into his waistband and gesturing for the group to huddle. “Madeline, Charlotte, you girls flank us and keep those blues off our backs. After the snap, Sutton, you run downfield as fast as you can. I’ll pass it to you when it looks clear.” Then he squeezed her arm. “I’m glad you’re playing this year.”

Emma couldn’t keep the smile off her face. Since she’d discovered Mr. Mercer was her grandfather, she’d felt close to him, not just as Sutton but as herself. But then the usual guilt flooded back. He didn’t know her secret. And as much as she wanted to tell him, she couldn’t. She thought about the locket tightening around her throat at Charlotte’s house, the stage light that had crashed dangerously close to her head, all the times the murderer had warned her never to tell anyone. She couldn’t bear the thought of her grandfather being hurt—and if he knew the truth, his life would be in danger, too.

The referee blew the whistle again. Emma saw the ball snap back and bolted, weaving quickly in and out of blue cotton shirts. The Twitter Twins’ high voices chanted from the sidelines: “We’ve got beauty, we’ve got class, the other team can kiss our …”

“Sutton!” Mr. Mercer cried, drowning out the rest of the cheer. Nisha was in front of him, trying to grab the flag from his belt, but he danced backward a few steps and threw.

Emma’s body tensed as the ball hung in the air. It fell neatly into her arms, and she took off toward the goalpost.

“Where do you think you’re going?” From the corner of her eye she saw Mrs. Mercer come her way. Her grandmother was surprisingly dexterous, limber from the hot yoga she did three times a week. Emma zigzagged around her and put on a burst of speed. Laurel joined the chase, and she and Mrs. Mercer flanked Emma as she pelted up the field.

Emma’s hair came loose from its knot and billowed behind her. I was pulled along by her speed, but I couldn’t feel the wind in my hair or the earth pushing away under my feet. I wondered how many times I’d gone to this tournament only to stand on the sidelines with my friends, complaining about the heat. Maybe I should have actually played once, just to experience it for myself.

The goalpost loomed in the distance, so close Emma could taste it. Suddenly, a pair of arms encircled her waist. She tumbled to the ground, the football rolling away from her. When she flipped to her back, Thayer’s face hovered over hers. “Gotcha,” he said softly, in the same feathery tone of voice he might use to say
I love you
.

Time stood still for a moment. Emma smelled the sweet grass, saw the light freckles on his cheeks. His face was so close to hers, she thought they might kiss.

I would have given anything in that moment to be able to feel what Emma did.

Then Thayer cried out as someone lifted him from behind. Emma looked around, confused, and saw Ethan shoving Thayer to his feet.

“This is
flag
football,” Ethan said angrily. “You’re going to hurt someone.”

Thayer pushed Ethan away. “Touch me again, man, and I’ll hurt
you
.”

“Oh yeah, you going to knock me down like you did my girlfriend?” Ethan shoved him again, this time a little harder.

Thayer took a few steps back. A dangerous grin broke over his face. “I’m going to enjoy kicking your ass,” he snarled. Then he lunged. Soon the two were a tangle of limbs and dirt thrashing around on the ground.

“Stop it!” Emma cried, struggling to her feet. There was blood on Ethan’s cheek. Thayer’s shirt was torn at the collar. The referee’s whistle blasts kept breaking through the air uselessly. Spectators stood with their hands clapped over their mouths. People ran toward them, including Mr. Mercer.

“Break it up, boys!” he yelled. But only a few feet from the fight, a divot of grass snagged his foot. He went flying face-first into the turf, rolling a few feet before coming to a stop. A low groan of pain escaped his mouth. Ethan and Thayer stopped fighting and stared at him.

“Dad!” Laurel screamed, dropping to his side. Emma and Mrs. Mercer were just behind her.

Mr. Mercer let out another groan. Both of his shins were skinned, and blood trickled into the grass. He clutched his left knee, which had already swollen to twice its usual size.

“Oh, man,” whispered Thayer, wiping his own blood from his purpling nose.

Mrs. Mercer looked into the impotent crowd, her face pale. “Can someone help me get him to the car?” she asked firmly.

Thayer and Ethan scrambled to either side of Mr. Mercer. Between the two of them, they managed to get him unsteadily to his feet, guide him across the field, and angle him into the family SUV. Mr. Mercer groaned the whole way. Emma followed, her heart pounding loudly in her chest. She barely felt Madeline’s hand on her shoulder or heard Charlotte’s promises that he was going to be okay. She and Laurel climbed into the backseat, and Mrs. Mercer turned the ignition. No one spoke as they pulled out of the space.

Emma turned and stared back at the parking lot. Ethan and Thayer stood several feet away from each other, looking sheepish. Ethan’s arms were crossed over his chest. Thayer rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Still think they’re not fighting over you?” Laurel mumbled.

Emma didn’t answer. She didn’t want to be squabbled over like some medieval damsel. Maybe they’d learned their lesson since Mr. Mercer had been hurt.