Truth or Dare (4 page)

Caitlin smiled back. “Sure,” she said easily. She felt good. Her headache was gone. Her body was relaxed. She was nailing this tryout. Three cheerleaders gathered around her. Two interlocked their hands in front of her, and the third deftly boosted her up onto them. She stood tall on their hands, quickly finding her balance. A thrill ran through her as she looked down at the bright green field, which seemed to be receding farther and farther away.

“Toss on three!” Jessie called out.

Caitlin had just crouched down, preparing to be tossed, when her vision suddenly clouded over. “One!” Jessie yelled. The world began to cycle, as though it had been sucked up in a tornado. Colors blurred around her. “Two!” Her legs felt far away all of a sudden, as if they belonged to someone else. “THREE!”

Move
, she ordered her legs.
Move!

But they refused.

She felt herself wobbling, teetering—and then the ground was racing toward her, faster and faster, much closer than it had seemed only a minute ago. She landed in a tangled heap of limbs on the grass.

“Oh my god, Cait!” Emerson rushed over to her side. Next to her,
Tricia executed a flawless basket toss. “Are you okay?” Emerson gasped, helping her up. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Caitlin said. Her voice sounded muffled. The pill had kicked in with a bang, and she felt fuzzy all over. She held tightly to Emerson’s arm to keep her balance.

From a few feet away, Tricia shot her a sympathetic look as she jumped gracefully to the ground. “Don’t worry about it, Cait. It happens to the best of us.” She smiled reassuringly, then, throwing her hands into the air, she dove forward into a perfect handspring. Off to the side, Jessie let out a whooping cheer.

“She’s right,” Emerson whispered in her ear. “It could have happened to anyone.”

Caitlin attempted a weak smile as she watched Tricia do three more handsprings in a row. Emerson whispered something about how one Angel Thomas was worth three Tricia Suttons, but Caitlin was barely listening. It didn’t matter what Emerson said.

For the first time in her life, Caitlin had bombed.

Saturday, 9
PM

TENLEY FLASHED THE MIRROR HER VERY BEST
pageant smile, taking inventory. Her chestnut-brown hair hung in long, shiny waves, her blue dress skimmed her butt just right, and new diamond studs glinted in her ears, her mom’s latest love-your-new-stepfather bribe. She loved the earrings, at least. The look was just what she was going for: bold enough to hold your attention, but not so bold it screamed
I’m trying to
.

Noises were starting to float over from the pool house—voices and laughter and a few catcalls—but she decided to give it another minute or two before heading over. She’d hung a sign on the pool house door (
JAILBREAK PARTY THIS WAY… ENTER AT YOUR LIVER’S RISK!
), so people would know where to go. Just because it was her party didn’t mean she couldn’t make an entrance. It had been almost four years since she’d seen most of her old friends from Echo Bay, after all. She wanted to make sure she hadn’t been forgotten.

When she and her mom had moved to Nevada, she’d stayed in touch
with only one person. A thrill raced through Tenley at the thought of seeing Caitlin again. After Tenley first moved away, she and Caitlin had written e-mails to each other almost every day. But lately Caitlin’s e-mails had grown less and less frequent. Even when Tenley wrote to her about her little
procedure
, Caitlin’s response was sweet—but short. Just a promise that she wouldn’t tell anyone about it. She was just crazed with school stuff, Caitlin had explained. And Tenley understood; even when they were little, Caitlin was always taking on a million things at once. But deep down, she couldn’t quite banish the fear that, without those e-mails, whatever ties she’d had to Caitlin—and Echo Bay—had been severed.

Reaching into her jewelry box, she pulled out the gold anklet she and Cait had bought together back in middle school. They’d both loved it, but when they’d found out it was the store’s last one, Caitlin, being Caitlin, had said Tenley could have it. But Tenley had suggested they share it. It would be like those best-friend heart necklaces everyone was wearing: something to tie them together.

They’d painstakingly picked out the charms together—an angel, a key, a horseshoe, and a tiny bear—and had taken turns wearing it every other month. When Tenley had broken the news to Caitlin that she was moving, she’d insisted Caitlin keep the anklet. It would be something to bridge the wide gap between Massachusetts and Nevada. But when Cait had visited her in Nevada last summer, she’d brought the anklet with her. “It’s your turn now,” she’d told Tenley. Tenley smiled at the memory. That weekend had been amazing. On their last night together, they’d told Tenley’s mom they were staying over at a friend’s house, and instead had made a secret pilgrimage to Vegas.

Tenley fixed the anklet above her right foot. There. She glanced once more in the mirror.
Now
her outfit was perfect.

The noise from the pool house was growing louder, voices multiplying,
laughter amplifying. It was time, Tenley decided. Nerves jostled in her stomach, but she swallowed hard, willing them away. She was no longer the Tenley of Troye, Nevada. She was Echo Bay Tenley now.

Tenley headed out back, across the stone veranda and vast, misty lawns. Outside the pool house, she paused, listening to the voices swell inside. This was her favorite moment of any party, when the night stretched before her like a sandbar, smooth and untouched. But tonight it was more than that. It was her whole senior year that stretched before her—and she definitely planned to make an impression.

Carefully, she smoothed down her dress. Here went nothing. But just as her hand closed around the doorknob, something caught her eye. A flicker of a shadow, slipping behind a tree. Her chest tightened. Was somebody out there? She dropped her hand, keeping her eyes on the thick greenery lining the property.

Where it was touched by the light from the pool house, the lawn looked lush and green. But in the shadows, the whole world dissolved into oily darkness. No matter how much she strained her eyes, she couldn’t make out a thing. Tenley shook her head. Of course there wasn’t anyone there.

Throwing back her shoulders, she stepped inside. “Tenley Greer!” Hunter Bailey called out as she walked into the central room of the pool house, with its all-glass walls and modern white furniture and the vases filled with purple hydrangeas, Tenley’s favorite flower. The place was packed already—clearly her pass-the-word invites had gotten the job done—and just as she’d hoped, everyone in the room swiveled around to look at her.

“It’s Tenley
Reed
now,” she said smoothly. She refused to acknowledge the nerves that kept trying to rear their ugly heads.

“Tenley Reed,” Hunter amended. He looked just like he had in middle school: dark brown hair, chiseled cheekbones, sky-blue eyes she would have traded for in a heartbeat. He was taller now, obviously, and broader, too, with the kind of defined muscles that only came from playing a lot of sports.

“Better,” Tenley said, grinning at him.

“Tenley!” A trio of girls quickly gathered around her. One of them, a small, curly-haired brunette named Jessie, used to take gymnastics with her when they were younger. She’d never been as serious about it as Tenley, but apparently (according to Facebook, at least), she’d parlayed her ability to cartwheel into a role as Winslow Academy’s head cheerleader. Jessie gave Tenley a quick hug. “Welcome home!” she squealed.

“I can’t believe how long it’s been,” the girl next to her said. She had long red hair and the kind of curves Tenley used to envy. Tenley recognized her right away: Marta Lazarus. Once upon a time, they’d been pretty good friends.

“I know,” Tenley said, giving Marta a quick hug. “Four whole years.”

“Well, you definitely returned with a bang,” said the other girl, a pretty blond wearing a string bikini and not much else. “Not that I should be surprised, right? Considering how wild even your sleepovers used to get. Same old Tenley.” She glanced at one of the vases of purple hydrangeas. “Your taste hasn’t changed, either!”

The girl laughed and Tenley joined in, but she kept watching the girl, studying her. She had clear blue eyes, an even tan, and short blond hair cut into a sleek bob. She looked like the kind of girl Tenley would have been friends with. But Tenley couldn’t place her.

“What can I say?” Tenley smiled at the girl as if they were old friends. Maybe they were. She couldn’t be expected to remember
everybody
.
“It’s in my genes.” And it was true. The one thing her mom knew how to do, other than land a husband, was throw a party.

“Trish!” A cute guy with blond hair and a cocky expression leaned against the bar, holding a shot glass in the air. “You coming?”

The girl—Trish, apparently—grinned at Tenley. “I’m being summoned,” she said. With a two-fingered wave, she sauntered off toward the bar, leaving Tenley staring after her.

“Don’t recognize her?” Jessie asked knowingly.

Tenley shook her head. “Is she new?”

“Nope,” Marta piped up. “But I guess her body kind of is.”

Tenley flushed a little, thinking of her own recent enhancements. There were only two people in Echo Bay who knew about that: her mom and Caitlin. As far as Marta and everyone else was concerned, Tenley was fully au naturel. “So who is she?” she persisted.

“That’s Tricia Sutton,” Jessie said. “Remember? Patty?”

Suddenly it hit Tenley. The short blond hair, the clear blue eyes. “Fatty Patty,” she said slowly. As she watched Tricia kiss the boy on his cheek, she had a sudden memory of the chubby music geek who used to drag her cello with her everywhere. Wow. Clearly more had changed in her absence than she’d realized. “Looks like she swapped her Twinkie habit for a boy toy.”

Jessie laughed. “She dated Hunter Bailey for a while, too, after she lost all the weight.”

“Good for her,” Tenley said, plastering on a smile. She didn’t want Marta or Jessie to realize she’d been taken by surprise. So things had changed a little in Echo Bay. She would just have to keep up. She gestured to the bar. “Anyone thirsty?”

“Parched,” Marta replied.

“You have to try some of the spiked lemonade I made….” She trailed off as she noticed a familiar head of golden-blond hair at the
front door. Caitlin. “It’s in the blue pitcher,” she called over her shoulder. She was already charging through the crowd. She couldn’t help it; it was like her body was being magnetically drawn to Cait on its own.

“Cool.” Jessie’s voice sounded distant. “Come find us in a bit, okay?”

Tenley may have called out a response, but she couldn’t be sure. Her eyes were glued to Caitlin. She looked the same, but different, too. She was taller, for one, and the straight hair that used to fall to her shoulders now tumbled halfway down her back. The nerves Tenley had been working so hard to fight gathered in a knot in the pit of her stomach.

It had been a whole year. Of course Caitlin would look a little different. It wasn’t like she wasn’t prepared; she’d seen Caitlin’s photos online. Still, she found herself wondering what else had changed in that time. It made her feel strange—shy almost, like this wasn’t the Caitlin who used to write
T + C = Sisters!
in the sand.

Cait was wearing a short white eyelet dress, cinched with a wide leather belt, and green sandals that laced up past her ankles. Next to her was a super-tall, super-thin girl with shiny black hair and dark, glowing skin. Emerson Cunningham, the daughter of ex-supermodel Grace Cunningham. As much as Tenley hated to admit it, she could see why Emerson had been chosen to model for Neutrogena in New York City last summer—a fact that was advertised all over her Facebook wall.

As Caitlin laughed at something Emerson was saying, Tenley felt the knot in her stomach harden. Emerson had moved to Echo Bay in ninth grade, after Tenley had left. But after years of scrutinizing Caitlin’s Facebook page, Tenley almost felt like she knew her. And—though she would never admit it to Caitlin—she
definitely
felt like she disliked her.

Caitlin looked over, her light green eyes meeting Tenley’s. She broke into a smile and, gesturing to Emerson that she’d be back, headed in Tenley’s direction.

“
Now
the party can start,” Tenley said when she reached her.

Caitlin grabbed Tenley’s hands, squeezing tight. “Perfect Ten,” she said happily.

“Cait the Great,” Tenley shot back automatically. She smiled. So what if Emerson and Caitlin had shared most of high school? They’d shared their whole
lives
. Nothing trumped that.

“Seriously, though, Ten.” Caitlin eyed Tenley admiringly. “You look even prettier than in your Facebook photos.” Tenley rolled her eyes—like
oh, come on
—but inside, she was beaming.

“Look at you,” she replied. She tilted her head back to peer up at Caitlin. “You’re tall!”

Caitlin laughed. “You’re just short.”

“Good things come in small packages,” Tenley joked. At five foot two, she’d always been shorter than most people.

“Sorry I had to skip out on Nifty today,” Caitlin said.

Tenley waved her off, as if it were no big deal. She’d been upset when Caitlin had said no to Nifty; she’d been hoping they could catch up before the party, just the two of them. But she was here now. “We’ve got all year for that.”

Caitlin nodded. “I can’t believe you’re really back.”

“I’m back,” Tenley promised. She gave her foot a little kick, making the charms on the anklet jingle.

“Our anklet!” Caitlin crouched down to examine it. “God, I have so many memories of wearing this thing.”

“I know. I wore it during my very first slow dance with a boy.” Tenley put a hand to her chest, pretending to swoon.

Caitlin laughed, standing back up. “And I wore it the day I brought Sailor home from the shelter.” Sailor was the tiny brown poodle Caitlin had adopted in seventh grade.

“And more important”—Tenley giggled—“the day Dennis Harrison tried to kiss you and you ran away.”