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PROLOGUE
I didn’t mean for them to die.
They were accidents.
At least that’s what I told the police.
And that’s what I’ve told myself.
But don’t believe a thing.
I’ve been trapped in a web of secrets and lies.
And can’t live with it anymore.
It has to end.
Today, I’m finally going to confess.
To everything.
Every.
Last.
Sin.
And then get down on my knees and beg for forgiveness.
ONE
PAIGE
“There she is!” My mother pointed to a statuesque girl wearing a pink baseball cap standing outside arrivals at LAX’s international terminal. Stylishly clad in all white—linen capris, an oversized sweater, and designer mules—she hopped out of the car, taking with her a large homemade sign with lots of red marker hearts that said: Welcome to LA, Tanya! It was so tacky I could puke.
Holding it up high with both hands, my mom shouted out Tanya’s name at the top of her lungs to get her attention while my dad turned the car off and followed her. Listlessly, I cranked the back passenger door open and joined my parents on the curb. The airport was jam-packed with vehicles and travelers, but we’d managed to score a parking spot close to the terminal. For all I cared, it could have been a mile away. Make that ten. I wasn’t looking forward to meeting our exchange student.
My gaze stayed on the girl as she caught sight of us. With a wave and a bright smile, she made her way through the crowd to our car, which we couldn’t leave unattended. In the photo my mom had shown me, her hair was shorter, more of a dirty blonde, and she was a bit heavier. But this girl was whippet thin, had long platinum-blonde hair, and was trendily dressed in skinny jeans, a hoodie, and bright white sneakers. Despite being laden with a backpack and a humongous wheelie bag, she had the gait of a supermodel, her stride long and bouncy. From a distance, I thought she looked a bit like my sister, Anabel, except taller, lankier, and blonder. Though to me all blondes looked alike, especially here in Southern California; it was kind of creepy.
Maybe, subconsciously, my mother had been seeking a replacement when she chose to host this exchange student. Trauma, said our family therapist, could have weird lasting effects on us. Us, by the way, consisted of me, my mother, my father, and my little brother, Will, who was away at some interstate robotics conference he couldn’t miss. Twelve-year-old Will was a nerd. Our in-house Geek Squad, party of one.
I had pressing things to do too, like seeing my best friend, Jordan, who was leaving for Berkeley tomorrow, and hooking up with my boyfriend, Lance, who’d been away all summer, but my mom had insisted I come to the airport. She was excited for me to meet our exchange student. She was so clueless. I had no interest in another family member, not even a temporary one.
Fifteen months older than me, my sister Anabel had died over two years ago, and I was content being the only daughter. My sister and I were never close. She was my mother’s favorite and I didn’t hold a candle to her. Not even a close second. “This is my daughter, Anabel,” my mom used to say. “And this is my other daughter, Paige.” I was always the other daughter, and still was.
At least for my brother I had always been number one. I loved Will and never wanted to lose him. If something terrible happened to him, I would totally freak.
Weaving through the pack of weary-looking people returning to LA or visiting our City of Angels, which I thought was a ridiculous nickname for this crime-ridden place, Tanya picked up her pace, her wheelie bag beside her. It was one of those sleek, hard-shelled ones. Burgundy red and shiny.
Tanya was at last within breathing distance of us. Placing the sign by her feet, my exuberant mother welcomed her with arms wide open. Letting go of the suitcase handle, our family guest fell right into them. They held each other tightly as if they were two close friends who hadn’t seen each other in years. Finally, she broke free.
“I’m so excited to be here, Mrs. Merritt.”
“Have you been waiting long? I’m sorry we’re late.”
“No worries. It’s not your fault. Our plane got in a half hour early. And I breezed through customs. I flashed a big smile with a cheery ‘hello’ and the agent let me right through.” She had a charming British accent that sounded a lot like Emma Watson’s and a smile that was movie star dazzling. Cheek-to-cheek, with a set of perfect pearly-white teeth. Well, except for a small gap between the two front ones.
Her smile met her eyes. Expecting them to be a greenish-blue like my sister’s, I was surprised to discover they were as brown as my dad’s. Combined with her thick licorice-black brows, which also resembled his, it made me wonder if she was a natural blonde. Either way, with her willowy body and exotic looks, she was, in a word: beautiful.
