Ariana almost didn’t see her, hunched over in jeans and the same leather jacket she’d worn the day before. The same dark scarf secured around her long neck. Mel crossed her arms over her chest and took the stairs two at a time, keeping her head down. Instinctively, Ariana turned away as Mel slipped through the high gates. The other students huddled together in groups, laughing and talking. Mel stayed by herself, ducking through the patches of students without acknowledging them. Ariana watched as Mel moved quickly down the sidewalk, sidestepping the weeds in the cracked cement.
“Hey!”
Ariana looked up, startled. A tall kid in camouflage pants was blocking her path. An unlit cigarette hung limp between his lips. A group of a few guys stood behind him, smirking in her direction.
“What?” she snapped, keeping her eye on Mel. The distance between them was widening fast. She felt her heart throbbing in her chest. She couldn’t lose her. This was her chance.
“Got a light?” the kid sneered, stepping closer.
“No.” Ariana shook her head, staring past him. “I don’t smoke.”
“No big deal.” He pulled the cigarette from between his lips and stuffed it in his pocket. “You new around here?”
“Kind of.” Mel was crossing the street, cutting through the gas station parking lot on the corner. If Ariana didn’t move fast, she was going to lose sight of her. She shoved past the group of guys. The sharp sound of her heels pounding against the cement overpowered the
laughter and shouts behind her. She sprinted across the street and slowed as she reached the parking lot. Mel wasn’t far ahead.
Ariana hung back, her heartbeat thundering in her ears.
A few blocks from the gas station, Mel crossed the street again, heading down a tiny side street peppered with small, run-down houses. She unlatched the gate in front of the last house on the street and made her way up the steps to the front door. Ariana hid behind a tree at the edge of the yard, watching her.
Mel shrugged off her backpack and fished around inside it, pulling out a single key. She wedged her body between a ripped screen door and the front door, and inserted the key into the lock. Relief enveloped Ariana, and she sank back against the rough bark of the tree with a small smile.
The girl was alone.
As soon as the screen door slammed shut, Ariana slipped across the yard. Closed her gloved hand around the rusted doorknob and took a slow, deep breath. There was only one thing that stood between her and Thomas Pearson. One thing that threatened the happiness she’d found.
She shook her head as she twisted the doorknob slowly. Thomas had left Mel, but she actually believed they could still be together. Believed that they were meant for each other. She refused to accept the fact that it was over. That Thomas loved Ariana, wanted her. He had made that clear, but Mel was too blinded by her own obsession to see it.
Ariana almost felt sorry for the girl.
The old wooden door creaked slowly as she pushed it open. She blinked the moment she stepped into the entryway, her eyes adjusting to the blackness that wavered in front of her. It closed in on her. She raised her hand just inches in front of her face, but she couldn’t see a thing. Sliding her hands against the wall next to her, she moved slowly though the foyer.
Suddenly, the door slammed behind her. Ariana’s heart surged. She closed her eyes and strained to hear the sound of Mel’s voice. Her footsteps. But she heard nothing except for the low hum of heat filtering through the radiators. And the sound of her own voice in her head. Willing her body to do what had to be done.
Silently, Ariana pressed her body against the wall, sweat dripping from her face to her neck, down the length of her body. Blood thundered in her ears, flooding through her veins at high speed. The wall suddenly gave from behind her, and she whirled around. She was standing in a long hallway. The carpet was taupe, worn—cheap looking. A smile twitched at the corners of her mouth as she saw a closed bedroom door at the end of it. Light spilled from underneath the door, as if to guide her down the hall.
She held her breath as she headed toward the room. In the gray light that drenched the hall, she hurried past family photographs that hung on either side of her. Baby pictures, wedding pictures. A stiff, posed photograph of Mel—probably a school portrait. Ariana kept her head down. When she reached the doorway, she gripped the knob so tightly it made her gloved hand hurt.
Pulling the door open slowly, she stepped into a room that looked
strangely similar to her side of the room in Billings. It was perfectly neat. Next to the door, a worn dresser was covered with a few framed photographs and a black plastic top hat with the glittering words
HAPPY NEW YEAR
printed on it. A desk with only a desktop computer on it was wedged next to the closet.
Across the room, Mel lay on a double bed covered with a violet blanket and a few throw pillows. Her eyes were closed, and a long leg tumbled over the side of the bed, her foot tapping the carpeted floor to the beat of the guitar music that leaked from her earbuds. A single lamp glowed on the bedside table next to the bed.
Ariana closed the door behind her. The lock echoed with a satisfactory
click
, and she crossed the room and stood at the edge of Mel’s bed. She noticed a picture on the bedside table, a picture she hadn’t been able to see from the doorway. Rage churned inside her as she looked closer. It was a picture of Thomas. His soccer picture. He was kneeling on the field in his uniform, his soccer ball wedged under one arm. Ariana chewed the flesh on the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. She leaned over the bed, her body casting a shadow over Mel’s form.
Mel’s eyelids flickered and opened, widening in horror as Ariana clamped her hand over Mel’s mouth. Dulling the scream that shook Mel’s body. She ripped the tiny white earbuds out of Mel’s ears and tossed the iPod on the floor. The music continued to blare from across the room. Mel thrashed under Ariana’s grip.
“Shut up,” Ariana snapped. “Shut up and I’ll let go. I just want to talk to you.”
Mel nodded silently, her body deflating into the blanket beneath her.
Ariana removed her hand slowly, taking a step back from the bed. “Don’t move,” she warned.
“What do you want?” Mel snapped. She scrambled to the corner of her bed closest to the wall, squinting at Ariana with her dark gray eyes. Ariana could tell she was trying to look angry. But instead of anger, Ariana saw something else. Raw fear. Her lips curved into a half smile. Her body felt completely relaxed, drained of any tension or anger she’d felt toward the girl before. She was calm, collected.
Because Mel was afraid. And that fear put Ariana in control.
“I think you know what I want,” she said lightly. “I want Thomas. But you were going to take him away from me.” She reached over to the lamp on Mel’s bedside table. It was cracked in several places, and she traced the cracks slowly, deliberately, with the tip of her index finger, the cashmere gloves occasionally catching on the tiny nicks. “I think we both know I can’t let that happen, Melissa.”
Mel’s body was heaving now, her face reddening. “You stole him,” she said, her deep voice getting progressively louder over the sound of the shriek of a guitar solo radiating from the earbuds on the floor. “He’s mine, and—”
“Not anymore,” Ariana said sharply, cutting her off. “He’s not yours anymore. He’d never want you back after everything you did to him. Everything you did to us.” Her pulse was starting to race again, and she paused, willing herself to calm down. Evened her breathing. “Stalking us, blackmailing us, stealing that picture of me—”
“That wasn’t me,” Mel said frantically, gripping her blanket in her fists. Pressing her back against the wall. “That boy. He broke into your room and stole the picture. I watched him do it.”
“Liar.” Ariana hissed. “Sergei was innocent. He never did anything to hurt you. And you killed him.”
“
I
killed him?” Mel laughed, looking Ariana boldly in the eye. “Sounds like you’ve forgotten the most important part of the story, Ariana. The part where he begged
you
for his life. Begged
you
to help him. The part where you shoved him under. And the part where you lied to Thomas about it. So I’d be careful who I called a liar, if I were you.”
Mel’s suddenly composed demeanor sent jolts of fury through Ariana. She’d only lied to Thomas to because she had to. Only shielded him from the knowledge of how Sergei had died. Protected him. Her hands began to tremble.
“You think Thomas will want you when he finds out about what you did to that boy?” Mel barked, leaning forward on the bed. “You think he wants to be with a murderer?” She dove toward Ariana, a wild look in her eye. “He’ll leave you! Just like he left me!”
“No!” Ariana reached for the lamp on the bedside table, wrapping her fist around its base. The cord ripped from the wall as Ariana lunged toward the bed and the room was plunged was into darkness.
In an instant it was all over, and once again Ariana was at peace.
“I heard about what happened,” Isobel whispered to Ariana in the middle of Mr. Holmes’s class the next day. Her sleek dark locks tumbled over her face. “About what you did over break?” Her green eyes were wide, disbelieving.
A sudden chill ran through Ariana’s body. Isobel couldn’t know. It was impossible. There wasn’t a single living soul who knew what had happened; Ariana had made sure of that. But Ariana knew Isobel’s dirty little secret; was it possible that Isobel knew hers? She kept her gazed fixed straight ahead. Mr. Holmes was gesturing toward the chalkboard, but she didn’t hear a word he was saying.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispered back, sneaking a glance down the semicircle of chairs to see if Paige could hear anything from her perch a few seats away. Paige was too busy texting on her BlackBerry to notice.
Connie Tolson leaned forward in her seat and flashed Ariana a death stare.
“Please,” Isobel said, narrowing her eyes knowingly in Ariana’s direction. “Don’t play innocent with me, Ariana. Noelle told me everything.”
Noelle?
Ariana was starting to feel faint. True, Noelle was always the first to know everything that happened on campus. True, she always seemed to know exactly what Ariana was thinking, feeling. But she had been so careful. Tied up every last loose end. She wrapped her arms around her body, curling into herself.
“Noelle knows?”
Isobel nodded. “I met her for drinks at Platinum at the end of break. Only took one-point-five dirty martinis to get her to spill.” She leaned closer. “Those things are brutal,” she giggled. Her thick Anna Sui perfume invaded the space around them, and Ariana was overcome with a wave of nausea. “So,” Isobel continued, flashing a devilish grin. “How’d you do it?”
Ariana’s head snapped toward her in disbelief. How could she be so blasé? She noticed Mr. Holmes looking in her direction, and she opened her alligator clutch, pretending to search for a pen.
“I think my first time was missionary,” Isobel said with a thoughtful hair toss. “With Jordan Krauss? He graduated last year. A little boring. But I pretty much just had to lie there and let him do all the work.”
Relief rushed over Ariana like a warm Caribbean breeze in the dead of winter. “You’re talking about Daniel and me?” she whispered.
“Fine.” Isobel smiled. “Play dumb for now. But I want the whole story later.”
Ariana smiled in return, her heart beating normally again.
“Miss Osgood?” Mr. Holmes was looking directly at her, an amused look in his eye. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”
“No,” she said weakly.
She looked down at her lap, her cheeks burning. Of course he had called her out in front of the whole class without so much as acknowledging that Isobel had been talking too. Apparently whatever Isobel had learned from Jordan Krauss was good enough to get her immunity for the rest of the semester.
“Good.” He nodded, loosening his tie. “I was just saying that we’ll start on Hugo’s
Les Misérables
next week. Be ready to discuss the foreword and the first five chapters.” He walked around the edge of his desk and pulled a thick manila envelope from his bag. “That should do it for today, folks,” he announced, unwinding the thin string that held the envelope closed. “Once you’ve gotten your
Madame Bovary
papers back, you’re free to go.” He dumped the stack on his desk and pulled the first paper from the pile. “Aldridge?”
“So what did you do over break?” Ariana turned to Isobel as chatter in the classroom swelled around them. “Anything good?”
“My break wasn’t as exciting as yours, that’s for sure.” Isobel snickered. “I got bangs cut.” She fingered the heavy fringe that fell across her forehead. “Other than that, I was stuck going to a lot of dinner parties with my parents once they got back from vacation. The only thing that got me through it was the fact that Jack was visiting.” She lowered her voice, a half smile playing across her lips. “Funny how a quickie in the coat closet during the salad course will get you
through dessert and coffee.” She laughed, pulling a tin of lip balm from her clutch.
“Funny,” Ariana echoed, watching Isobel dip her ring finger into the sticky gloss and apply it expertly to her smooth pout. “Anything else?”
Isobel looked up at her. Innocence radiated from her pores, thicker than her perfume. “Not really.”
Ariana tried to mask the disgust that crept through her as she watched Isobel check her reflection in her compact mirror. Isobel Bautista was the perfect example of everything that was wrong with Easton Academy. Flawless on the outside. But what was hidden beneath her shiny veneer was imperfect. Ugly.
“Osgood.” Mr. Holmes tossed Ariana’s paper on her desk, and she caught it just before it fell to the floor. She flipped it over and stared at the large red marks on the cover sheet. C-plus. She clenched her jaw as the letter swam in front of her.
“Ready to go?” Isobel snapped her compact shut and stood up.
“What about yours?” Ariana stared numbly at her desk.