Perfect

Page 5

Naomi’s mouth got very small and tense. “That was because of the bra I was wearing,” she said through clenched teeth. Hanna had seen Naomi’s inverted nipples when they were changing for gym the week before. Maybe it was just from the weird bra she had on, but hey—all’s fair in love and the war to be popular.
Hanna glanced over her shoulder and shot Naomi and Riley a haughty, condescending look. She felt like a queen snubbing two grubby little wenches. And it gave Hanna great satisfaction to see that Mona was giving them the exact same look. That was what best friends were for, after all.
4
NO WONDER EMILY’S MOM IS SO STRICT
Emily Fields never had practice the day before a meet, so she came straight home after school and noticed three new items sitting on the limestone kitchen island. There were two new blue Sammy swim towels for Emily and her sister Carolyn, just in time for their big meet against Drury tomorrow…and there was also a paperback book titled It’s Not Fair: What to Do When You Lose Your Boyfriend. A Post-it note was affixed to the cover: Emily: Thought you might find this useful. I’ll be back at 6.—Mom.
Emily absentmindedly flipped through the pages. Not long after Alison’s body had been found, Emily’s mother had started surprising her with little cheer-me-ups, like a book called 1001 Things to Make You Smile, a big set of Prismacolor colored pencils, and a walrus puppet, because Emily used to be obsessed with walruses when she was younger. After Toby’s suicide, however, her mother had merely given Emily a bunch of self-help books. Mrs. Fields seemed to think Toby’s death was harder for Emily than Ali’s—probably because she thought Toby had been Emily’s boyfriend.
Emily sank into a white kitchen chair and shut her eyes. Boyfriend or not, Toby’s death did haunt her. Every night, as she was looking at herself in the mirror while brushing her teeth, she thought she saw Toby standing behind her. She couldn’t stop going over that fateful night when he’d taken her to Foxy. Emily had told Toby that she’d been in love with Alison, and Toby had admitted he was glad Ali was dead. Emily had immediately assumed Toby was Ali’s killer and had threatened to call the cops. But by the time she realized just how wrong she was, it was too late.
Emily listened to the small settling sounds of her empty house. She stood up, picked up the cordless phone on the counter and dialed a number. Maya answered in one ring.
“Carolyn’s at Topher’s,” Emily said in a low voice.
“My mom’s at a PTA meeting. We have a whole hour.”
“The creek?” Maya whispered.
“Yep.”
“Six minutes,” Maya declared. “Time me.”
It took Emily two minutes to slip out the back door, sprint across her vast, slippery lawn, and dive into the woods to the secluded little creek. Alongside the water was a smooth, flat rock, perfect for two girls to sit on. She and Maya had discovered the secret creek spot two weeks ago, and they’d been hiding away here as much as they possibly could.
In five minutes and forty-five seconds, Maya emerged through the trees. She looked adorable as usual, in her plain white T-shirt, pale pink miniskirt, and red suede Puma sneakers. Even though it was October, it was almost eighty degrees out. She had pulled her hair back from her face, showing off her flawless, caramel-colored skin.
“Hey,” Maya cried, a little out of breath. “Under six minutes?”
“Barely,” Emily teased.
They both plopped down on the rock. For a second, neither of them spoke. It was so much quieter back here in the woods than by the street. Emily tried not to think about how she had run from Toby through these very woods a few weeks ago. Instead, she concentrated on the way the water sparkled over the rocks and how the trees were just starting to turn orange at the tips. She had a superstition about the big tree she could just make out at the edge of her backyard: if its leaves turned yellow in the fall, she would have a good school year. If they turned red, she wouldn’t. But this year, the leaves were orange—did that mean so-so? Emily had all sorts of superstitions. She thought the world was fraught with signs. Nothing was random.
“I missed you,” Maya whispered in Emily’s ear. “I didn’t see you at school today.”
A shiver passed through Emily as Maya’s lips grazed her earlobe. She shifted her position on the rock, moving closer to Maya. “I know. I kept looking for you.”
“Did you survive your bio lab?” Maya asked, curling her pinkie around Emily’s.
“Uh-huh.” Emily slid her fingers up Maya’s arm.
“How was your history test?”
Maya wrinkled her nose and shook her head.
“Does this make it better?” Emily pecked Maya on the lips.
“You’ll have to try harder than that to make it better,” Maya said seductively, lowering her green-yellow catlike eyes and reaching for Emily.
They had decided to try this: sitting together, hanging out whenever they could, touching, kissing. As much as Emily tried to edit Maya from her life, she couldn’t. Maya was wonderful, nothing like Em’s last boyfriend, Ben—nothing, in fact, like any boy she’d ever gone out with. There was something so comforting about being here at the creek side by side. They weren’t just together—they were also best friends. This was how coupledom should feel.
When they pulled away, Maya slid off a sneaker and dipped her toe into the creek. “So we moved back into our house yesterday.”
Emily drew in her breath. After the workers had found Ali’s body in Maya’s new backyard, the St. Germains had moved to a hotel to escape the media. “Is it…weird?”
“It’s okay.” Maya shrugged. “Oh, but get this. There’s a stalker on the loose.”
“What?”
“Yeah, a neighbor was telling my mom about it this morning. Someone’s running around through people’s yards, peeping into windows.”
Emily’s stomach began to hurt. This, too, reminded her of Toby: back when they were in sixth grade, he was the creepy kid who peeked into everyone’s windows, especially Ali’s. “Guy? Girl?”
Maya shook her head. “I don’t know.” She blew her curly bangs up into the air. “This town, I swear to God. Weirdest place on earth.”
“You must miss California,” Emily said softly, pausing to watch a bunch of birds lift off from a nearby oak tree.
“Not at all, actually.” Maya touched Emily’s wrist.
“There are no Emilys in California.”
Emily leaned forward and kissed Maya softly on her lips. They held their lips together for five long seconds. She kissed Maya’s earlobe. Then Maya kissed her bottom lip. They pulled away and smiled, the afternoon sun making pretty patterns on their cheeks. Maya kissed Emily’s nose, then her temples, then her neck. Emily shut her eyes, and Maya kissed her eyelids. She took a deep breath. Maya ran her delicate fingers along the edge of Emily’s jaw; it felt like a million butterflies flapping their wings against her skin. As much as she’d been trying to convince herself that being with Maya was wrong, it was the only thing that felt right.
Maya pulled away. “So, I have a proposal for you.”
Emily smirked. “A proposal. Sounds serious.”
Maya pulled her hands into her sleeves. “How about we make things more open?”
“Open?” Emily repeated.
“Yeah.” Maya ran her finger up and down the length of Emily’s arm, giving her goose bumps. Emily could smell Maya’s banana gum, a smell she now found intoxicating. “Meaning we hang out inside your house. We hang out at school. We…I don’t know. I know you’re not ready to be, like, out with this, Em, but it’s hard spending all our time on this rock. What’s going to happen when it gets cold?”
“We’ll come out here in snowsuits,” Emily quipped.
“I’m serious.”
Emily watched as a stiff wind made the tree branches knock together. The air suddenly smelled like burning leaves. She couldn’t invite Maya inside her house because her mother had already made it clear that she didn’t want Emily to be friends with Maya…for terrible, almost-definitely racist reasons. But it wasn’t like Emily was going to tell Maya that. And as for the other thing, coming out—no. She closed her eyes and thought of the picture A had texted her a while ago—the one of Emily and Maya kissing in the photo booth at Noel Kahn’s party. She winced. She wasn’t ready for people to know.
“I’m sorry I’m slow,” Emily said. “But this is what I’m comfortable with right now.”
Maya sighed. “Okay,” she said in an Eeyore-ish voice. “I’ll just have to deal.”
Emily stared into the water. Two silvery fish swam tightly together. Whenever one turned, the other turned too. They were like those needy couples who made out in the hallway and practically stopped breathing when they were separated. It made her a little sad to realize she and Maya could never be one of those couples.
“So,” Maya said, “nervous about your swim meet tomorrow?”
“Nervous?” Emily frowned.
“Everyone’s going to be there.”
Emily shrugged. She’d competed in much bigger swimming events than this—there had been camera crews at nationals last year. “I’m not worried.”
“You’re braver than I am.” Maya shoved her sneaker back onto her foot.
But Emily wasn’t so sure about that. Maya seemed brave about everything—she ignored the rules that said you had to wear the Rosewood Day uniform and showed up in her white denim jacket every day. She smoked pot out her bedroom window while her parents were at the store. She said hi to kids she didn’t know. In that way, she was just like Ali—totally fearless. Which was probably why Emily had fallen for both of them.
And Maya was brave about this—who she was, what she wanted, and who she wanted to be with. She didn’t care if people found out. Maya wanted to be with Emily, and nothing was going to stop her. Maybe someday Emily would be as brave as Maya. But if it was up to her, that would be someday far, far away.
5
ARIA’S ALL FOR LITERARY REENACTMENTS
Aria perched on the back bumper of Sean’s Audi, skimming through her favorite Jean-Paul Sartre play, No Exit. It was Monday after school, and Sean said he would give her a ride home after he grabbed something from the soccer coach’s office…only he was taking an awfully long-ass time. As she flipped to Act II, a group of nearly identical blond, long-legged, Coach-bag-toting Typical Rosewood Girls strode into the student parking lot and gave Aria a suspicious once-over. Apparently Aria’s platform boots and gray knitted earflap hat indicated she was surely up to something nefarious.
Aria sighed. She was trying her hardest to adjust to Rosewood again, but it wasn’t easy. She still felt like a punked-out, faux-leather-wearing, free-thinking Bratz doll in a sea of Pretty Princess of Preppyland Barbies.
“You shouldn’t sit on the bumper like that,” said a voice behind her, making Aria jump. “Bad for the suspension.”