“Hey,” Emma said, hugging her books to her chest and giving him a shaky smile.

In the past month, she and Thayer had started to establish a cautious friendship. He was a good listener, and when Becky showed up in Emma’s life again, he was one of the few people she felt safe telling. She’d started to think the two of them could put his relationship with Sutton behind them and be friends—until he kissed her at Charlotte’s party two weeks ago. She’d pulled away, but not before he had a chance to realize something was wrong. He’d confronted her two days later, saying he knew something was off about her; and while she’d managed to dismiss his accusations, she knew he was still suspicious.

A wave of relief swept over her as she remembered Mrs. Mercer’s plea to keep the news about Becky’s other daughter a secret—if Thayer found out that Sutton had a long-lost twin, Emma had a feeling it wouldn’t take long for him to figure out who she really was.

“Hey,” he said, hefting the backpack farther across his back. “Are you heading out to the courts?”

“I’m not in any hurry,” she said, smiling ruefully. “It’s going to be like a second funeral.”

“I get that.” He searched her face for a moment. “How are you holding up?”

“Me? I’m okay.” Emma’s voice sounded too high in her ears, strained and anxious. He just looked at her.

“Come on, I’ll walk with you to the locker rooms,” Thayer said.

“Did you guys have a good Thanksgiving?” Emma asked, trying to make small talk as they paced down the hall.

He gave a bitter bark of laughter. “The usual. Mom burned the turkey, and Dad threw a wineglass at her. Mads and I ended up sneaking out and getting Burger King.”

She gave him a sympathetic look. Thayer’s family was at best volatile, and at worst downright abusive. “Sorry, Thayer. That sounds awful.”

He shrugged. “It was par for the course around Casa Vega. And neither of us was in much mood for family time anyway.”

Emma nodded. “Yeah. Mom and Dad cooked a big turkey dinner because they’d already bought the groceries and they didn’t want it to go to waste, but they should have just stuck everything in the freezer. No one had much appetite. Except Drake,” she added, smiling at the memory of the Great Dane, who’d casually sauntered past a countertop and inhaled a platter of sweet potatoes.

The halls were mostly empty by now, with the exception of a few drama kids wearing black robes for the school production of The Crucible. A pimply boy carrying a tuba hurried out of the music wing and disappeared through the doors leading to the football field.