Free The Lying Game by Sara Shepard Page A

watched, spots began to cloud my vision. A rushing sound whooshed in my ears.
What’s wrong with you?
I heard Laurel say again and again. The words rippled out inwaves, growing louder and louder. Suddenly I saw Laurel sitting in a dark grotto. Light danced across her face. The corners of her mouth turned down. Tears dotted her eyes.
What’s wrong with you? What’s wrong with you?
The words clanged in my head like a clapper in a bell.
    A tiny flare erupted in the darkness of my mind. And then another flare, and then another. It was like a line of falling dominoes, cascading until I had a fully formed scene from my past. A
memory.
    All at once, I could distinctly remember where and when Laurel had asked, “What’s wrong with you? “ before. And that wasn’t the only thing I saw….

9
IMITATION IS THE HIGHEST FORM OF FLATTERY

    “The party has officially started,” I call, strutting out from behind a big boulder where I changed into a silver bikini. My legs are freshly waxed, my face is blemish-free, and my hair glows softly in the lights from the resort. All eyes are on me.
    Garrett whistles. “You put the hot in hot springs.”
    I grin. “You know it.”
    Garrett beckons me closer. He’s submerged in the warm, swirling water of the hot springs at the Clayton resort, a secret spa in the shadows of the mountains. We aren’t technically allowed to be here—the spring is strictly for the wealthiest visitors—but that wasn’t about to stop my friends and me. We always find ways of getting what we want.
    “Come on in, dahling,” Madeline calls. She’s already in the hot spring, too. Her hair is swept up on the top of her head in a sloppy bun, her arms are lithe from her million-hours-a-week of Pilates and ballet, and the heat from the water gives her skin a sexy sheen. Mads always looks a little bit better than I do, which always pisses me off. And she’s sitting close to Garrett—a little too close. Not that I’m really worried about anything happening—both Madeline and Garrett know I’d kill them if it did—but I like to have Garrett all to myself.
    We’ve only been dating for two months. Everyone thinks I’m dating him because he’s one of the school’s star soccer players, or because he looks devastatingly gorgeous on top of the lifeguard stand at the W Resort pool, or because his family has a beach house in Cabo San Lucas that they visit every spring. But the truth is, I like Garrett because he’s a little … damaged. He isn’t like all the other cocky guys around here, living their charmed, uneventful, hermetically sealed suburban lives.
    I wedge myself between the two of them, shooting Madeline a cool smile. “You weren’t feeling my boyfriend up under the water, were you, Mads? I know you have some trouble telling guys apart.”
    Madeline’s face flushes. Not long ago, shortly after Mads’s brother, Thayer, took off, Mads made out with a dark-haired guy from Ventana Prep at a party in the desert. After a while, she excused herself to refresh her drink, returned to the designated make-out area, and resumed kissing again … except this newguy was blond. Madeline didn’t even notice for at least a couple of minutes; I was the only one who’d seen. Sometimes I wonder if Mads is trying really hard to do the Lindsay Lohan thing: pretty girl goes rogue, gets wild, and screws up life.
    I pat Madeline’s shoulder, which is warm from the steam. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.” I pantomime locking my lips and throwing away the key.
    Then I sink down into the hot water. Some girls get into the springs slowly, making little squeals as they expose an inch of flesh to the heat at a time. I like to plunge in all at once. The eye-watering burn gives me a rush.
    Charlotte is the next one to emerge from behind the rocks. She’s still wearing a pink terry-cloth cover-up, her hands shielding her pale, pudgy legs. We all cheer hello. Laurel follows right behind Charlotte, giggling