The newscaster, a slender Latina in a mauve blazer, stood in front of a contemporary ranch house that Emma knew well. Nisha’s home was the first place she went as Sutton, the night Madeline Vega and the Twitter Twins, Lilianna and Gabriella Fiorello, “kidnapped” her from the park bench where she’d been waiting to meet her twin for the very first time. Emma remembered how irritated Nisha had seemed when Emma walked into the party—Nisha and Sutton had been rivals for years. But over the past month, Emma had started to form a tentative friendship with the tennis team cocaptain.

“The girl was discovered by her father just after eight P.M. last Monday. In an official statement, the Tucson Police have determined that there is no evidence of foul play and are treating the death as an accident. But many questions remain.”

The camera cut to Clara, a girl Emma knew from the varsity tennis team. Her eyes were wide and shocked, her face pale. NISHA’S CLASSMATE appeared at the bottom third of the screen below her. “A lot of people are saying it might have been . . . it might have been intentional. Because Nisha was so driven, you know? How much can one person do before they . . . they crack?” Tears filled Clara’s eyes.

The camera cut away again, replacing Clara with a teenage boy. Emma did a double take. It was her boyfriend, Ethan Landry. NISHA’S NEIGHBOR, said the caption below his face. He wore a black button-down shirt and a black tie and was obviously leaving his house for the funeral. Emma’s knees weakened at the sight of him. “I didn’t know her that well,” Ethan said. His dark blue eyes were serious. “She always seemed really together to me. But I guess you never know what secrets people are hiding.”

The camera returned to the newscaster. “Services will be held this afternoon at All Faiths Memorial Park. The family has requested that donations be made to the University of Arizona Hospital in lieu of flowers. This is Tricia Melendez, signing off.” Emma snapped the laptop closed and walked back into the closet. The silence left in the wake of the chattering newscaster felt deep and sepulchral.

She’d never been to a funeral before. Unlike most kids her age, who had lost grandparents or family friends, Emma had never had anyone to lose. She took a deep breath and started to flip through Sutton’s black dresses, trying to decide which one would be appropriate.