Emma’s head spun. “Alex is a girl,” she blurted.

“Uh-huh.” Laurel rolled her eyes. “When are you ever going to trust me again?” she asked in a low voice. Something painful passed between the two of them, something Emma couldn’t quite get a grip on. Sutton had hurt Laurel in the past—of that Emma was sure—and it seemed that maybe Laurel had hurt Sutton, too.

“She is a girl.” Emma wheeled around, banging her hip against the edge of the sink. “And . . . and that’s not cool that you looked at my phone.”

Laurel lowered her chin and gave her a knowing smirk. “Like you don’t look at mine all the time? So who is this Alex guy? Someone from Valencia Prep? U of A? Were you guys skinny-dipping? Good thing the Paulsons are in Hawaii!”

“I wasn’t in the pool,” Emma repeated, but then she looked down at herself. Droplets of water from the ends of her hair cascaded down her shoulders. She reeked of chlorine. “Okay. Fine. I was in the pool. But I was alone.”

Laurel traced her fingers on top of a wrought-iron sculpture of the words LIVE, LAUGH, LOVE that sat on the back of the toilet. “Why won’t you tell me the truth?” she said, sounding injured. “I won’t tell anyone. I promise. I can keep a secret.”

Emma lowered her eyes. The only person she could trust in Tucson was Ethan. “I was alone in the pool, I swear. I was hot, I was awake . . . end of story. And Alex is a girl I met at tennis camp.” Hopefully, Sutton had gone to tennis camp . . . and hopefully Laurel hadn’t gone with her. Then, trying to act annoyed and aloof, she pushed around Laurel and into the hall.

“Sutton, wait.”

Emma turned around. Laurel stood behind her, a dangerous smile on her lips. “I’m onto you. You’re going to tell me what you’re up to. Or else . . .”

The words hung in the air, almost palpable. “Or else what?”

Laurel was so close Emma could smell her lemony shampoo. Her shoulders were square and strong. Her broad hands curled at her sides. All at once, Emma was transported back to that awful night in Charlotte’s house when someone had grabbed her from behind and nearly killed her. Laurel was taller than Emma, about the right height of the person who’d assaulted her. And there was a solid strength about her, a sureness that made Emma think she could be capable of such a thing. After all, Emma had watched Laurel violently choke Sutton in the fake snuff film.