Later that night, the Mercers sat at the patio table in their backyard, waiting for Ethan to arrive. Despite Emma’s insistence that he really didn’t have to come, Ethan had been determined to make the effort, saying he felt much better. Citronella candles flickered around them to keep the bugs off. Mr. Mercer had put a jazz record on the outdoor sound system, and even though Emma muttered that it was “so lame,” she secretly liked the effort they’d put in for her boyfriend.
Ethan had texted her to tell her he was running late: SORRY, MOM STUFF, BE THERE SOON. Ever since Ethan had told her that Mrs. Landry had defended her abusive husband and called the cops on her own son, Emma had found it difficult to feel charitable toward Ethan’s mother. Of course it was terrible that she was sick. But Ethan was trying so hard to take care of her, and she treated him like dirt.
Emma picked at the chips and salsa, fiddling with her phone. Nisha hadn’t been at tennis, and she was a little worried. She’d called and texted her friend a dozen times since school got out, but there was no answer.
Laurel eyed her over the table while Mr. and Mrs. Mercer wrestled with a stubbornly corked wine bottle.
“Everything okay?” she asked softly.
“Um, yeah,” said Emma. She couldn’t very well tell Laurel that she felt perched on the verge of exposure. Thayer suspected she wasn’t who she claimed to be. She kept thinking about the look on his face when he’d said he would find out what she was hiding. He’d meant it. The question now was, what would he do next?
The doorbell rang, and Emma jumped up to answer the front door. Ethan stood on the step, holding a bouquet of lilies and roses. He wore a sports jacket that she’d bought with him at Nordstrom a few weeks earlier, and his usually disheveled hair had been neatly styled. She leaned up and kissed him softly on the cheek.
“You look great,” she said. He looked her up and down.
“So do you,” he said. She’d changed into a short coral-colored shirt dress, casual enough for a patio dinner but still splashy enough to get his attention. He picked up a lock of her hair and smoothed it back.
“How are you feeling?” she asked.
“Much better, now that I’ve seen you.” He kissed her lightly on the cheek. “I’m so sorry to be late for your parents. I had to get a refill on one of my mom’s medicines at the last minute. I just wish she’d told me earlier.”
For a moment she thought about telling him what Thayer had said to her, asking what he thought they should do. But she didn’t think bringing up Thayer right now was a great idea. She didn’t want a fight right before dinner with her family. They could discuss it later, when they were alone.
“Hi, Ethan,” Mrs. Mercer said brightly as Emma led him out to the patio. She wore a lemon-yellow apron over her silk button-down shirt. She’d been to the salon just that afternoon, and her dark hair hung in perfect waves around her shoulders. “You’re just in time. The enchiladas are ready.”
“They smell terrific,” he said, handing Emma’s grandmother the bouquet.
“You shouldn’t have!” Mrs. Mercer exclaimed, breathing in the smell of the flowers. “I’ll run in and get a vase.”
“Suck-up,” Emma muttered at Ethan. He grinned.
Mr. Mercer took a sip of his wine, watching Ethan warily over the top of his glass. “Well, Ethan,” he said, clearing his throat. “How’s school going?”
Emma stifled a giggle—whenever Mr. Mercer talked to Ethan he unconsciously adopted a stern, paternal air, a don’t-you-dare-hurt-my-little-girl tone of voice.
Ethan fidgeted nervously under his stare. “It’s going great.” He smiled shyly at Emma. “I was going to tell Sutton in private, but now’s as good a time as any. I actually got my early admission letter from UC Davis today. A full ride and everything.”
Emma squealed loudly, her hands flying to her lips. “Ethan! That’s awesome!”
“Well, congratulations, son,” Mr. Mercer said, setting his glass down. “Did Sutton tell you that’s my alma mater?”
Emma looked at her grandfather, surprised. She hadn’t known that. He was smiling warmly at Ethan now, his lecturing tone melted away.
“No, she didn’t,” Ethan said, glancing at Emma.
“It’s a great school,” he continued. “You’ll fit right in there, Ethan. And you won’t find a better education anywhere.” He lifted his glass again. “This calls for a toast, I think.”
Emma picked up her iced tea, raising it high. She was so proud of Ethan.
“To the future,” said Mr. Mercer. “To past and future Aggies.”
“Hear! Hear!” cried Emma, laughing. They all clinked their glasses together over the table. Emma rested her foot against Ethan’s under the table.
“So I guess the science fair stunt didn’t hurt you too much after all,” Laurel said, winking at Ethan. Emma flinched. She didn’t know the whole story, but she knew that Sutton and the Lying Game girls had ruined Ethan’s chances for a scholarship a few years earlier through some kind of prank.