Free Hallie Hath No Fury . . . by Katie Finn

met my eye, and felt my jaw fall open.
    It was Gemma.
    Gemma, with a new haircut and color, but Gemma. Here, in the Hamptons, talking to my brother.
    I just blinked for a moment, trying to get my bearings. I had told Josh, when he’d asked what had happened with the Tuckers, only that Gemma had been really mean to me. I’d given him a few examples, but hadn’t told him her motivating reasons why, or her role behind what had happened with our mom. It had just seemed easier not to. So he knew that I hated Gemma Tucker, and I had a feeling he felt the same way on my behalf. So why was he smiling at her?
    I saw Gemma’s eyes widen as she looked at me, and I knew she’d just recognized me as well. I was suddenly feeling unsteady on my feet. This was not the way the plan was supposed to go. I wasn’t supposed to just run into her. I was supposed to have time to figure things out, to time things for their maximum impact potential.…
    â€œThis is Sophie…” my brother was saying, which snapped me back to the present moment. I just stared at him, bewildered. What was he talking about? Sophie was Gemma’s best friend. And unless she’d acquired a cloak of invisibility, she was not currently standing on the platform with us.
    â€œCurtis,” Gemma supplied, and I just looked at her.
    Like an image coming into focus in a darkroom, I suddenly saw that she was holding a plastic latte cup from Stubbs with Sophie scrawled across the side in huge letters. She was playing with her S necklace, the one she always wore. I’d seen enough pictures of them to know Sophie always wore the G. Was Gemma … could she really be doing this? Had she seen me, panicked, and decided to go under her best friend’s name? Did she really think I didn’t recognize her?
    A moment later, though, I remembered that I was not meant to have seen her since the day she drove away, five years ago. And she did look different than she had when she was a kid. There was a possibility that if I hadn’t seen her this whole time, I might not have put it together. Especially if she was using a different name.
    Just to test that this was actually happening, I repeated, “Sophie?” Gemma gave a tiny nod, but I could still see the fear in her eyes. She wasn’t sure if I recognized her or not. And I suddenly realized that things could get interesting— very interesting—if I pretended I didn’t. I wasn’t sure what my plan was yet, but I needed to make a quick decision. “It’s nice to meet you,” I said, giving her a big smile.
    She practically wilted with relief. It was hardly surprising—Gemma was conflict-averse enough that she had eaten at vegan restaurants she hated for the last two years rather than say anything to Teddy about it. Of course she’d pretend to be someone else rather than have a difficult conversation with me. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” she said.
    It was all the permission I needed. If Gemma was going to do this ridiculous thing, she’d just allowed me to change my plan—but in a way that might actually work better . She was clearly going to pretend we didn’t know each other, we’d never met, and we had no history together. And anyone who was going to be that much of a coward deserved whatever she got.
    I said some pleasant, happy things, about how we should all hang out, trying not to enjoy the slightly panicked look on Gemma’s face too much. I offered her a ride just as a sports car sputtered into the parking lot. I saw in an instant that Paul was behind the wheel, and I quickly let my hair swing forward so that it covered my face. The last thing I needed was Gemma’s dad recognizing me and ending this whole charade before I could figure out the best way to use it to my advantage.
    Gemma was looking from me to her dad, clearly worried about the same thing, and so Josh and I said our good-byes, while