PROLOGUE AN UNWANTED VISITOR If anyone had peeked through my window, they would have thought it was just a normal slumber party, a festive night that involved popcorn, manicures, and six gorgeous girls from the most exclusive clique at Holl ier High giving each other makeovers, sharing juicy gossip, and plotting their next prank for the Lying Game. My iPhone had dozens of photos of past sleepovers that looked exactly like it: a shot of my best friend, Madeline, holding up a picture of a model with fringe bangs and asking if the look would flatter her heart-shaped face; one of my other besties, Charlotte, sucking in her cheeks to apply the new shade of blush she’d bought at Sephora; one of my adoptive sister, Laurel, snickering at a D-list celeb in Us Weekly; and plenty of photos of me, Sutton Mercer, looking like the glamorous, powerful “It girl” I was. But on this particular night, something was different … and five out of the six girls didn’t even know it. The girl my best friends were laughing with, the girl they thought was me … wasn’t. Because I was dead. My BFFs were talking to my long-lost twin, Emma, who’d taken my place. I’d died a month ago and was now perched somewhere between the land of the living and the great beyond, watching my life continue, but with Emma as the