Wicked (28 page)

The paper crinkled in Spencer’s hands. Aria had drawn this right as it was happening. She certainly hadn’t known anything about Ali or Ian back then, but had merely sketched what she saw—Ian looking lovesick and vulnerable. And Ali looking…like Ali. Like a bitch.

Ali and I flirted a lot, but that was all. She never seemed interested in taking it further than that,
Ian had said.
But then…suddenly…she changed her mind.

The trees around the pool made black, spidery shadows. The wooden wind chimes that hung from the eave of the barn knocked together, sounding like bones rattling. A shiver ran from the base of Spencer’s neck all the way to her coccyx. Could it be true?
Had
Ian and Ali harmlessly flirted with each other, merely having a little fun? What, then, had made Ali change her mind and decide to like him?

But that was so hard to accept. If Ian was telling the truth about Ali, then everything else he’d said to Spencer two days ago on her porch could possibly be true, too. That there was a secret he was on the verge of finding out. That there was something
more
to all this that they didn’t understand. And that Ian hadn’t killed her—someone else had.

Spencer pressed her hand to her chest, afraid her heart was about to stop.
What notes?
Ian had asked. But if Ian wasn’t sending A notes…who
was
?

The cold slush seeped right through Spencer’s riding boots, straight to her toes. Spencer stared at the bluestone path at the back of her yard, the very spot where she and Ali had fought. After Spencer shoved Ali to the ground, her memory had gone spotty. She’d only recently remembered that Ali had gotten up and continued down the path. What Spencer saw next flickered in front of her mind, blurring and sharpening. Ali’s thin legs poking out the bottom of her JV field hockey kilt, her long hair dripping down her back, the bottoms of her rubber flip-flops worn at the insteps. There was another person with her too, and they were arguing. A few months ago, Spencer had been positive that person was Ian. But now when she tried to access the memory, she couldn’t see the person’s face. Had she latched onto Ian because Mona had fed her that information? Because she just wanted it to be
someone
, so this would be over?

The stars twinkled peacefully. An owl hooted in one of the big oaks behind the barn. Spencer’s nose itched, and she thought she smelled a cigarette smoldering somewhere close. And then her Sidekick began to ring.

It echoed loudly across the vast, empty yard. Spencer plunged her hand into her bag, hitting Mute. She felt numb as she pulled it out. Her screen announced that she had a new e-mail from someone called Ian_T.

Her stomach swooped.

Spencer. Meet me in the woods, where she died. I have something to show you.

Spencer sucked in her teeth.
The woods where she died.
That was just on the other side of the barn. She stuffed the drawing into her purse and hesitated for a moment. Then she took a deep breath and started to run.

30

FRAILTY, THY NAME IS WOMAN!

Hanna was finishing her third thorough round of the Hastings house, looking for Lucas. She’d passed and re-passed the jazz band, the drunks at the bar, and the snooty Main Liners talking smack about the priceless artwork that lined the walls. She saw Melissa Hastings slip upstairs, talking on her cell phone. When she pushed into Spencer’s father’s office, she interrupted what looked like an argument between Mr. Hastings and Principal Appleton. But no Lucas, anywhere.

Finally, she wandered into the kitchen, which was thick with steam and smelled like shrimp, duck, and heavy glaze. The caterers were busy unpacking appetizers and mini desserts from foil-lined carriers. Hanna half-expected to see Lucas helping them out, feeling bad that they were so overworked—that would be just like him. But he wasn’t there, either.

She tried Lucas’s phone again, but it went straight to voice mail. “It’s me,” Hanna said quickly at the beep. “There was a good reason I did what I did. Please let me explain.”

When she hit End, the phone’s screen went dark. Why hadn’t she just told Lucas about the notes from A when she’d had the chance? But she knew why: She wasn’t sure they were real. When she’d begun to think they
were
real, Hanna had worried that if she said anything to anyone, something horrible might happen.

And so she’d kept her mouth shut. But now it seemed like horrible things were happening anyway.

Hanna reached for the door to the media room and poked her head inside, but the room was disappointingly empty. The red afghan that was usually lying neatly on top of the couch was flung across the cushions, and there were a few empty cocktail glasses and crumpled-up napkins on the coffee table. Beyond it, that big, weird wire Eiffel Tower teetered on the credenza, so tall it almost grazed the ceiling. The old photo of Ali from sixth grade was still propped up against it.

Hanna stared at it warily. Ali held the Time Capsule flyer in her hand, her mouth open in mid-laugh. Noel Kahn stood behind her, laughing too. A shadowy figure loomed in the background, mostly out of focus. Hanna leaned forward, her stomach dropping like it was weighted down with lead. It was
Mona.
She was leaning on the handlebars of her pink Razor scooter, her eyes on Ali’s back. It was like seeing a ghost.

Hanna sank into the couch, staring hard at Mona’s blurry shape.
Why did you do this to me?
she wanted to scream. Hanna had never gotten to ask Mona that question—by the time she’d realized that Mona was A, Mona and Spencer had already been on their way to Falling Man Gorge. There were so many things Hanna wanted to ask Mona, things that would forever go unanswered.
How could you have secretly hated me all that time? Was anything we did together real? Were we ever really friends? How could I have been so wrong about you?

Her eyes focused again on Ali’s wide, open mouth. When Hanna and Mona had become friends in eighth grade, Hanna had poked fun at Ali and the others to show Mona that they weren’t really that great. She told Mona the story about how she’d shown up in Ali’s backyard the Saturday after Time Capsule was announced, determined to steal Ali’s piece of the flag. “And Spencer, Emily, and Aria were there, too,” Hanna remembered saying, rolling her eyes. “It was so weird. And even weirder, Ali came storming out of her back door, all the way across the yard to us. ‘You guys are too late,’ she said.” Hanna had even squeakily imitated Ali’s voice, ignoring the shameful twinge inside her. “And then she said some asshole already stole her piece, even though she’d already decorated it and everything.”

“Who took it?” Mona asked, hanging on every word.

Hanna shrugged. “Probably some freak who built a shrine to Ali in his bedroom. I bet that’s why he never turned the piece in to be buried with the Time Capsule—he probably still sleeps with it every night. And maybe he tucks it in his underwear every day.”

“Ewww,”
Mona squealed, writhing.

That conversation with Mona had taken place at the beginning of eighth grade, right as that year’s Time Capsule game started. Three days later, Hanna and Mona jointly found a piece of the Time Capsule flag stuffed into the
W
volume of an encyclopedia set in the Rosewood library. It was like finding a golden ticket in
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory
—a sure omen that their lives were going to change. They’d decorated the piece together, putting
Mona and Hanna 4-EVAH
in big, bold letters all over the fabric. Their names were buried now, a metaphor for their farce of a best-friendship.

Hanna wilted against the couch, tears pricking her eyes. If only she could run out to the practice fields behind Rosewood Day, dig up that year’s capsule, and burn her and Mona’s piece. If only she could burn every other memory they’d created as friends, too.

The recessed lights above Hanna’s head reflected off the picture. When she looked at the photo again, she frowned. Ali’s eyes seemed so almond-shaped, and her cheeks were awfully puffy. All at once, the girl in the photo looked like a knockoff Ali instead, an Ali turned a few degrees to the left. But when Hanna blinked, it was Ali again who was staring back at her. Hanna ran her hands over her face, feeling like her skin was crawling with worms.

“There you are.”

Hanna cried out and turned around. Her father stepped through the door. He wasn’t in a suit like the rest of the men here, but a pair of khaki pants and a navy blue V-neck sweater.

“Oh,” she gasped. “I-I didn’t know you were coming.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” he said. “I’m only here for a moment.”

There was a shadowed figure behind him. She wore a strapless white gown, a brand-new Swarovski crystal bracelet, and satin Prada peep-toes. When she stepped into the light, Hanna’s heart sank.
Kate.

Hanna bit down hard on the inside of her cheek.
Of course
Kate would run to Stepdaddy and tell him everything. She should’ve seen this coming.

Mr. Marin’s eyes blazed. “Did you or did you not tell your friends that Kate has…
herpes
?” He mumbled the last word.

Hanna shrank back. “I did, but—”

“What on earth is
wrong
with you?” Mr. Marin demanded.

“She was about to do the same thing to me!” Hanna protested.

“No, I wasn’t!” Kate squealed passionately. A bit of her French twist had come undone, and a few tendrils spilled over her shoulders.

Hanna’s mouth dropped open. “I heard you on the phone on Friday! ‘It’s almost time. It’ll work. I can’t wait.’ And then you…cackled! I know what you meant, so don’t even pretend like you’re all perfect and innocent.”

A helpless squeak escaped from Kate’s throat. “I don’t know what she’s talking about, Tom.”

Hanna stood up and faced her father. “She wants to destroy me. Just like Mona did. They were working together.”

“Are you cracked? What are you
talking
about?” Kate threw up her hands in despair.

Mr. Marin raised a bushy eyebrow. Hanna crossed her arms over her chest, glancing once more at the photo of Ali. Ali seemed to be staring right out at Hanna, smirking and rolling her eyes. Hanna wished she could turn it upside down—or even better, tear it to shreds.

Kate made a loud gasp. “Wait a minute, Hanna. When you heard me yesterday, was I in my bedroom? Were there long pauses between things I was saying?”

Hanna sniffed. “Uh,
yeah.
That’s what happens when you’re on the phone.”

“I wasn’t on the phone,” Kate said coolly. “I was practicing lines for the school play. I got a part—if you would’ve
talked
to me, I would have told you that!” She shook her head, amazed. “I was waiting for
you
to come home so we could hang out. Why would I be plotting to get you? I thought we were friends!”

Down the long hall, the jazz band stopped playing, and everyone applauded. A strong scent of blue cheese wafted from the kitchen, making Hanna’s stomach turn. Kate had been practicing
lines
?

Mr. Marin’s eyes grew blacker and darker than Hanna had ever seen them. “So let me get this straight, Hanna. You ruined Kate’s reputation because of something you heard through a
door
. You didn’t even bother to
ask
Kate what she meant or what she was doing, you just went ahead and told everyone a blatant lie about her.”

“I thought…,” Hanna stuttered, but then trailed off. Was that what she’d done?

“You’ve gone too far this time.” Mr. Marin shook his head sadly. “I’ve tried to be lenient with you, especially after everything that happened this fall. I’ve tried to give you the benefit of the doubt. But you can’t get away with this, Hanna. I don’t know what it was like, living with your mother, but I don’t allow this kind of stuff in my house. You’re grounded.”

From this angle, Hanna could see every new little wrinkle by her dad’s eyes and all the new flecks of gray in his hair. Before her dad had moved out, he’d never punished her once. Whenever she messed up, he simply
talked
to her about it until she understood why it was wrong. But it looked like those days were gone.

An enormous lump formed in Hanna’s throat. She wanted to ask her father if he remembered all their talks. Or how much fun the two of them used to have. For that matter, Hanna wanted to ask why he’d called her a little piggy in Annapolis all those years ago. It wasn’t remotely funny—her dad must have known that. But maybe he didn’t care. As long as it amused Kate, he was happy. He’d taken Kate’s side ever since she and Isabel came into his life.

“From now on, you’ll associate with Kate and only Kate,” Mr. Marin said, straightening his sweater. He began listing things on his fingers. “No boys. No friends over. No Lucas.”

Hanna gaped.
“What?”

Mr. Marin gave Hanna his
don’t talk until I’m finished
look. “No sitting with other people at lunch,” he went on. “No loitering with other girls before or after school. If you want to go to the mall, Kate has to go with you. If you want to go to the gym, Kate has to go with you. Or I start taking more things away. First your car. Then your handbags and clothes. Until you actually understand that you can’t treat people like this.”

The roof of Hanna’s mouth began to itch. She was pretty sure she was about to faint. “You can’t do that!” she whispered.

“I can.” Mr. Marin’s eyes narrowed. “And I
am
. And you know how I’ll know if you’re breaking the rules?” He paused and looked at Kate, who nodded. They’d probably discussed all this beforehand. Kate had probably
suggested
it.

Hanna gripped the arm of the couch, stunned. Everyone at school was skeeved out about Kate now—all because of what Hanna had told them. If Hanna came into school all BFFs with Kate and only Kate, people would…
talk.
They might even think Hanna had herpes too! She could already imagine the names everyone would call them:
The Valtrex Vixens. The Blister Sisters.