Madeline swiped the back of her hand across her forehead and glared at Emma. “And are you hoping the cops come again, too?”

The cops. I tried my hardest to force a memory to the surface. But that flash I’d gotten about train tracks had faded into dust.

Emma looked at Sutton’s friends, her mouth feeling cottony dry. But before she could assemble her next question, feedback screeched through the PA system.

“Attention!” spoke the tinny voice of Amanda Donovan, a senior who read the daily announcements. “It’s time to announce the winners of the Homecoming Halloween Dance Court, voted in by Hollier’s talented boys’ football, soccer, cross-country, and volleyball teams! It’s in two weeks, ghosts and goblins, so get your tickets today before they sell out! My date and I already have!”

Madeline’s lips pursed in disgust. “Who could Amanda possibly be going with? Uncle Wes?”

Charlotte and Laurel snickered. Amanda’s uncle was Wes Donovan, a sportscaster who had his own Sirius radio show. Amanda name-dropped him so often during morning announcements that Madeline swore they were secret lovers.

“Please join me in warm congratulations to Norah Alvarez, Madison Cates, Jennifer Morrison, Zoe Mitchell, Alicia Young, Tinsley Zimmerman . . .”

Every time a name was called, Madeline, Charlotte, and Laurel pantomimed a thumbs-up or a thumbs-down.

“. . . and Gabriella and Lilianna Fiorello, our first Homecoming Court twins ever!” Amanda concluded. “A warm congratulations, ladies!”

Madeline blinked several times as if waking up from a dream. “The Twitter Twins? On the court?”

Charlotte sniffed. “Who would vote for them?”

Emma looked back and forth between them, trying to keep up. Gabby and Lili Fiorello, the Twitter Twins, were fraternal twins in their grade. They both had big blue eyes and honey-blonde hair, but each girl also had other features all her own, like the mole by Lili’s chin or Gabby’s Angelina Jolie lips. Emma still was unclear whether Gabby and Lili were in or out of the clique; they’d attended Charlotte’s sleepover two weekends ago, when the anonymous attacker nearly strangled Emma to death, but they weren’t members of the Lying Game. With their dopey expressions, twin-brain mentality, and iPhone addictions, they struck Emma as all fluff and no substance, the girl equivalent of low-calorie Cool Whip.

I wasn’t sure about that, though. If there was one thing I was learning, it was that looks could be deceiving. . . .

As if on cue, four sharp ringtones filled the room. Charlotte, Madeline, Laurel, and Emma all fumbled for their phones. On Emma’s screen were two new texts, one from Gabby, one from Lili. WE KNOW WE’RE GORGEOUS! Gabby’s said. CAN’T WAIT TO WEAR OUR CROWNS! Lili wrote.

“Divas,” Madeline said next to her. Emma glanced at her screen. Madeline had received the same texts.