The Lying Game Read Online Free PDF

in the plaster in the ceiling and the blotchy, M-shaped stain on the carpet near the closet.
    The little clock in the corner of the laptop screen clicked from 10:12 to 10:13 P.M. She refreshed her Facebook page. She peeked out a slit in the dusty blinds at the night sky and found the Mom, Dad, and Emma stars. Her heart rollicked in her chest. What had she
done?
She reached for her phone and dialed Alex’s number, but Alex didn’tpick up. YOU THERE ? she texted Alex, but there was no response.
    The traffic on the highway grew sparse and whispery. Emma let out a long sigh, thinking of what came next. Maybe she could move back to Henderson, live in Alex’s spare room, and pay rent to Alex’s mom. She’d work full-time—perhaps night shifts at the twenty-four-hour Target near Alex’s house—and somehow finish high school, too. Maybe she could even intern at the local newspaper on the weekends….
    Bzzzzzzz.
    Emma’s eyes popped open. Out the window, the moon had climbed high in the sky. The clock on the side table said 12:56 A.M . She’d dozed off.
    Bzzzzzzz.
    Her phone was flashing. She stared at it for a long moment, as if she was afraid it might leap up and bite her.
    There was an envelope icon on the screen. Her heart churned faster and faster. Trembling, she clicked OPEN. Emma had to read the Facebook message four times before the words really sunk in.
    OMG. I can’t believe this. Yes, I was totally adopted.
But I never knew you existed until now. Can u meet
me at the hiking base of Sabino Canyon in Tucson
2morro at 6 PM? Attached is my cell number. Don’t
tell anyone who you are until we talk—it’s dangerous! See you soon!
    Love, Sutton (your twin)

    Of course, there was one problem with that note: I didn’t write it.

4
REUNION INTERRUPTED

    Late the following afternoon, Emma staggered off a Greyhound bus, her green duffel in tow. Heat radiated off the parking lot in waves; the air was so stifling that she felt like she’d just stepped into the barrel of a giant hair dryer. To her right were small adobe homes and a purple-stucco yoga studio for men called hOMbre. To her left was a large, crumbling building called the Hotel Congress, which looked haunted. Posters for upcoming concerts plastered the front windows. A couple of hipsters loitered on the street, smoking cigarettes. Beyond that was what looked like a shop for dominatrix hookers; whip-wielding mannequins in catsuits, fishnet stockings, and thigh-high boots filled the front windows.
    Emma spun around again and faced the Greyhound bus station. TUCSON DOWNTOWN , said a low-slung sign out front. After hours of sitting on a bus next to a guy with a devil beard and a serious addiction to jalapeño-flavored Doritos, she was finally here. She was tempted to run up to the large Greyhound on the sign and give it a big, wet kiss, but then her phone vibrated in her pocket and she scrambled to answer it. Alex’s photo appeared on the screen.
    “Hey!” Emma clutched the old BlackBerry to her ear. “Guess where I am?”
    “You
didn’t,”
Alex gasped on the other end.
    “I did.” Emma dragged her duffel to a bench under the awning and sat down to rest. Alex had finally written back to Emma’s YOU THERE ? text last night. Emma had called her immediately, blurting out the whole story in one long, breathless sentence.
    “I left Clarice a note,” Emma said, moving her long legs out of the way as an older couple pulling wheeled suitcases passed. “Social Services won’t check up on me, either—I’m too close to turning eighteen.”
    “So what are you going to say to this Sutton girl? I mean, if she’s really your sister, do you think you’ll be able to move in with her? “ Alex sighed wistfully. “It’s like Cinderella, except without the lame prince!”
    Emma leaned back on the bench and gazed at the purplish mountains in the distance. “I don’t want to get too far ahead of things,” she said. “Let’s just see if we even get along.”
    It