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Never Have I Ever
A Lying Game Novel
By Sara Shepard
Epigraph
The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.
—OSCAR WILDE
Contents
Title Page
Epigraph
Prologue: Life After Death
1. A Charmed Life
2. CSI, Tucson
3. Spinning Her Wheels
4. Paper Trail
5. Extreme Times Call for Extreme Measures
6. A Criminal History
7. The Ultimate Prank
8. Truth or Consequences
9. Daddy’s Little Girl
10. Fish Out of Water
11. Nothing Like a Threat at 2 A.M.
12. A Secret of a Different Kind
13. Never Underestimate the Power of Snooping
14. Double the Trouble
15. An Opening … And a Closing
16. An a for Effort
17. X Marks the Spot
18. Tremors and Treachery and Threats, Oh My!
19. The Writing on the Wall
20. Creepy Vampires to the Left, Stalkers to the Right
21. Service with a Snicker
22. Tweet, Untweet
23. The Awful Truth
24. The Viking’s Revenge
25. Almost, But Not Quite
26. One Down, One to Go
27. A Shove in the Dark
28. Walled In
29. The Darkest Place in the World
30. The Aftermath
31. Clever Little Bitches
32. The Moment We’ve been Waiting For
Epilogue: A Moment in Time
Acknowledgments
Other Books by Sara Shepard
Copyright
About the Publisher
LIFE AFTER DEATH
It’s the little things you miss when you die. The feel of sliding into bed when you’re exhausted, the clean scent in the Arizona air after a storm during monsoon season, the flutter in your stomach when you see your crush walking down the hall. My killer took all those things away from me just before my eighteenth birthday.
And because of fate—and a threat from my murderer—my long-lost twin sister, Emma Paxton, stepped into my life.
When I died two weeks ago, I popped into Emma’s world, a world that was about as different from mine as you could get. From that very first moment I saw what Emma saw, went where she went … and watched. I watched as Emma reached out to me on Facebook and as someone posing as me told her to visit. I watched as Emma traveled to Tucson, cautiously hopeful about our reunion. I watched as my friends tackled Emma, thinking she was me, and brought her to a party. I stood beside her when she got the note that said I was dead, warning her that if she didn’t continue to pretend to be me, that if she told anyone who she really was, she’d be dead, too.
I watch today as Emma pulls on my favorite thin white tee and swipes my shimmery NARS blush onto her high cheekbones. I can say nothing as she slides into the skinny jeans I used to live in on weekends and sorts through my cherrywood jewelry box for my favorite silver locket, the one that sends rainbow prisms around the room when it catches the light. And I sit silently by as Emma sends a text confirming brunch plans with my best friends, Charlotte and Madeline, even though I would’ve worded it differently. Still, Emma has the basics of me down cold—almost no one has noticed she isn’t me.
Emma puts my phone down, an uneasy look on her face. “Where are you, Sutton?” she asks aloud in a nervous whisper, as if she knows I’m close.
I wish I could send her a message from beyond the grave: I’m here. And this is how I died. Only when I died, my memory died, too. I have glimpses here and there of who I used to be, but only a few solid, fleshed-out moments have bobbed to the surface. My death is as much a mystery to me as it is to Emma. All I know in my heart, in my bones, is that someone killed me. And that same someone is watching Emma as closely as I am.
Does this scare me? Yes. But through Emma, I’ve been given a chance to uncover what happened in those final moments before I took my last breath. And the more I discover about who I was and the secrets I kept, the more I realize how much danger surrounds my long-lost twin.
My enemies are everywhere. And sometimes, those we least suspect turn out to be our biggest threats.
A CHARMED LIFE
“This way to the terrace.” A tanned, button-nosed hostess grabbed four leather-bound menus and marched through the dining room of La Paloma Country Club in Tucson, Arizona. Emma Paxton, Madeline Vega, Laurel Mercer, and Charlotte Chamberlain followed her, snaking around tables full of men in tan blazers and cowboy hats, women in tennis whites, and children munching on organic turkey sausage.
Emma dropped into a booth on the stucco veranda, staring at the tattoo on the back of the hostess’s neck as she glided away—a Chinese character that probably meant something lame, like faith or harmony. The terrace had a view of the Catalina Mountains, and every cactus and boulder was in sharp relief in the late-morning sun. A few feet away, golfers stood around
