I tried to hold on to the flood of Thayer memories like they were a life raft at sea, but just when I thought I had my arms securely around them, they slipped away and sank deep down once more. Was it true that Thayer and I had shared something together—something real, something big? Those emotions I’d felt seemed so true, so raw, more momentous than anything I’d felt for Garrett or any other boy. But what if the memory of the headlights in Thayer’s eyes was true, too? Had I hit Thayer? Was that rumor true?

Something even more frightening occurred to me. Was I, right this moment, staring into the face of my murderer?

After what I’d remembered, I hated to think that Thayer could be my killer, but I’d learned a thing or two about my tricky, dead-girl brain: I couldn’t trust each individual memory, only the whole picture. What first seemed like a terrifying kidnapping had ended up being merely a dangerous prank, after all. A near-death had resulted in weary laughter, with everyone fine. Who was to say that the next glimpse of Thayer I saw undid those true-love feelings I had for him? Who was to say I hadn’t died his bitter enemy?

It was impossible to know how I’d left things during my last few days on earth—whom I’d loved, and whom I’d hated. And it was impossible to know whom Emma should trust . . . and whom she should run from.

I stared into Emma’s wide, glassy eyes. My sister was more terrified than I’d ever seen her. Then I turned to Thayer, peering into his lazy, self-assured face. Suddenly, something came to me about him that I’d long buried. This guy was a charmer. A hypnotizer. He could wrap you around his finger just as well as I could, convincing you that every word out of his mouth was true.

So who was the better liar? Me . . . or him?

Be careful, I wanted to tell Emma. Sure, she had a brand-new boyfriend, but something told me that Thayer was the type of guy who could sweep her off her feet before she even knew what hit her. I had a feeling Emma was about to embark on a new kind of Lying Game with Thayer. But in this little club of two, the stakes were a matter of life or death.

A loud tick-tick-tick sounded across the room, the second hand on the bean-shaped clock on my wall suddenly moving again. The curtains fluttered in the window. And as I turned back to Emma and Thayer, time had unpaused for them, too, thrusting my sister into her next moment with Thayer.

A boy I might have once loved. A boy I was now almost certain I couldn’t trust. A boy who might have killed me.

Acknowledgments

Acknowledgments