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Сара Шепард – The Lying Game (страница 1)

18

THE

LYING

GAME

BY

SARA

SHEPARD

We are what we pretend to be, so we must be careful about what we pretend to be.

—KURT VONNEGUT

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Epigraph

PROLOGUE

Chapter 1 - THE DEAD RINGER

Chapter 2 - THAT’S RIGHT, BLAME THE FOSTER KID

Chapter 3 - YOU KNOW IT’S TRUE IF YOU READ IT ON FACEBOOK

Chapter 4 - REUNION INTERRUPTED

Chapter 5 - SHE IS ME

Chapter 6 - WHO CAN RESIST A BROODER?

Chapter 7 - THE BEDROOM EMMA NEVER HAD

Chapter 8 - COFFEE, MUFFINS, MISTAKEN IDENTITY . . .

Chapter 9 - IMITATION IS THE HIGHEST FORM OF FLATTERY

Chapter 10 - EVERY GUY LOVES A FELON

Chapter 11 - WATCH OUT FOR DEVIL CHILD!

Chapter 12 - EMMA’S FIRST FAMILY DINNER DYSFUNCTION

Chapter 13 - THE BODY ON THE GROUND

Chapter 14 - VINTAGE EMMA

Chapter 15 - THE SCENE OF THE CRIME

Chapter 16 - LAST BUS TO VEGAS

Chapter 17 - NEVER HAVE I EVER

Chapter 18 - WHO’S LAUGHING NOW?

Chapter 19 - LEAVING IS NOT AN OPTION

Chapter 20 - DEAR DIARY, TODAY I DIED

Chapter 21 - UNREQUITED SPYING

Chapter 22 - DIRTY SECRETS

Chapter 23 - SOMEONE WAS A VERY, VERY BAD GIRL . . .

Chapter 24 - DOESN’T EVERY GIRL THINK HER SISTER WANTS TO KILL HER?

Chapter 25 - A LATE ADDITION TO THE GUEST LIST

Chapter 26 - A FACE FROM THE PAST

Chapter 27 - HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NOW DIE

Chapter 28 - SEDUCTION AND MURDER ALWAYS GO HAND IN HAND

Chapter 29 - THE GREAT ESCAPE

Chapter 30 - SOMEONE KNOWS . . .

Chapter 31 - NOT FUNNY, BITCHES

Chapter 32 - THE BITTER TRUTH

Chapter 33 - LOOK OUT, SUTTON’S BACK

EPILOGUE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Also by Sara Shepard

Copyright

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

I woke up in a dingy claw-foot bathtub in an unfamiliar pink-tiled bathroom. A stack of Maxims sat next to the toilet, green toothpaste globbed in the sink, and white drips streaked the mirror. The window showed a dark sky and a full moon. What day of the week was it? Where was I? A frat house at the U of A? Someone’s apartment? I could barely remember that my name was Sutton Mercer, or that I lived in the foothills of Tucson, Arizona. I had no idea where my purse was, and I didn’t have a clue where I’d parked my car. Actually, what kind of car did I drive? Had someone slipped me something?

“Emma?” a guy’s voice called from another room. “You home?”

“I’m busy!” called a voice close by.

A tall, thin girl opened the bathroom door, her tangled dark hair hanging in her face. “Hey!” I leapt to my feet. “Someone’s in here already!” My body felt tingly, as if it had fallen asleep. When I looked down, it seemed like I was flickering on and off, like I was under a strobe light. Freaky. Someone definitely slipped me something.

The girl didn’t seem to hear me. She stumbled forward, her face covered in shadows.

“Hello?” I cried, climbing out of the tub. She didn’t look over. “Are you deaf?” Nothing. She pumped a bottle of lavender-scented lotion and rubbed it on her arms.

The door flung open again, and a snub-nosed, unshaven teenage guy burst in. “Oh.” His gaze flew to the girl’s tight-fitting T-shirt, which said NEW YORK NEW YORK ROLLER COASTER on the front. “I didn’t know you were in here, Emma.”

“That’s maybe why the door was closed?” Emma pushed him out and slammed it shut. She turned back to the mirror. I stood right behind her. “Hey!” I cried again.

Finally, she looked up. My eyes darted to the mirror to meet her gaze. But when I looked into the glass, I screamed.

Because Emma looked exactly like me.