Pretty Little Secrets

Page 23

“I’m not sure we should be spending money on extravagant restaurants,” Mr. Fields said as he filled the water glasses at the fridge.
“It’s only once a year,” Mrs. Fields interrupted, thrusting her chin into the air. “And anyway, I think we’ll find a way to afford it.”
She raised her eyebrows at Emily, but Emily kept her gaze trained on her empty plate. In one hour, she would be joining the elves on their pranking mission—but not as a narc.
Mrs. Fields launched into the regular family prayer, and everyone started to eat. “We’ll have to decide about Christmas Eve dinner soon,” Mrs. Fields said as she spooned some green beans onto her plate, picking up on the topic again. “All of the restaurants probably book up fast.”
“I vote for Ruth’s Chris Steak House.” Jake stabbed a piece of lasagna.
“Uch, that place is so boring.” Beth bit off a piece of a roll. “Let’s go somewhere nicer. Like somewhere in the city, maybe.”
“I’m fine with Applebee’s,” Carolyn said meekly, always the sensible girl.
They argued about this for the rest of the dinner. Emily didn’t dare contribute a word, feeling like a pent-up volcano ready to blow. Finally, fearing she was going to blurt out everything if she sat at the table for another minute, she rose from her seat. “Uh, I have to go to the library. I have a ton of homework.”
“On a Tuesday night before the break?” Beth looked surprised. “Rosewood Day is working you hard.”
“Uh, it’s a last-minute test,” Emily fumbled, carrying her plate to the sink.
Mrs. Fields rose too and caught her arm. “You hardly ate any of your dinner.” Her eyes were wide and concerned. “Is everything okay?”
Emily kept her eyes locked on the chicken-printed trivet sitting next to the stove. “I’m fine,” she mumbled, placing her plate on the counter. “See you later.”
As she walked into the living room, she could feel her mother’s gaze on her back. Don’t turn around, she silently willed. She made herself think about lyrics to Christmas songs instead, though the only one that rattled through her mind was “You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch.” Only when she reached the stairs did she glance over her shoulder again. When she did, her mother had turned away, like she didn’t suspect a thing.
“Don’t drive us into a ditch!” Heather cried as Cassie steered her car onto the side of a dark, secluded road that paralleled the Rosewood Country Club. The car pitched to the side, definitely off-balance, and Emily, Sophie, and Lola, who were riding in the back, squished together against the door.
“I know what I’m doing.” Cassie jammed the gear into park and shut off the engine. When the headlights clicked off, darkness descended around them. A faint light glowed over the hills of the golf course, but otherwise, Emily couldn’t see a foot in front of her face.
Cassie rummaged around the front seat, pulled out a flashlight, and snapped it on. Everyone squinted when the golden light beamed in their eyes. “Okay, bitches. We ready?”
“Totally,” Lola whispered, pulling a black ski cap over her head. The other girls followed, Emily along with them. Then they climbed up the hill. Every nerve in Emily’s body felt electrified. There was a sour taste in her mouth, and her stomach rumbled from the few bites of lasagna she’d eaten at dinner. She’d had to hide her hands under her butt the whole drive over so the elves wouldn’t see how badly she was shaking.
Cassie’s flashlight made golden crisscross stripes across the golf course. The girls darted over the green, circumnavigating the giant man-made pond and a couple of amoeba-shaped sand traps. Every few steps, Emily looked behind her, sure someone was following them. The rounded hills loomed in the distance, dark silhouettes against the purplish sky. She didn’t see a soul.
The lights of the clubhouse glimmered on the horizon. Dread filled Emily as she took in the long windows and the stone façade. This had been the place where Mona Vanderwaal had held a party for Hanna after her car accident—the one that Mona had caused. And it was at this very party that Hanna realized that Mona was A—and that Mona wanted to kill them.
The girls looped around the country club until they found a back entrance to the kitchen. “Voilà,” Lola whispered, pulling out a key on a Philadelphia Eagles ring, which she’d procured from a friend who worked in the kitchen earlier that day. The key twisted in the lock, and the door creaked open. Emily braced herself for alarms to sound, but none did.
They flipped on the kitchen lights, and Emily shaded her eyes. The pots and pans were neatly put away, the stainless-steel countertops gleamed, and a long spray nozzle dangled limply in the sink.
“Come on,” Cassie hissed, tiptoeing toward a swinging door to the right. She pushed it open with her shoulder to reveal the dining room Emily had eaten in countless times with Ali’s and Spencer’s families. Thirty or so round tables with heavy wood chairs were scattered around the room. An Oriental rug stretched across the floor, and an oak bar took up the whole back wall. An enormous Christmas tree stood in the corner, its lights still blazing, tons of wrapped presents waiting underneath.
The elves got to work quickly, ripping off the glass orbs and strings of popcorn on the tree and placing everything into a bunch of cardboard boxes Cassie had dragged out from the kitchen. Emily helped Lola load the presents into a wheelbarrow Lola’s kitchen friend had placed just outside the door for them, every once in a while examining the labels peeking out beneath the ribbons. She found a box for the Hastings family. There was another one for the Kahns and James Freed’s parents. A fourth tag caught her eye, and she nearly gasped. THE DILAURENTIS FAMILY, the label said. Emily had heard rumors about Ali’s family moving back here; they’d even been in the audience at Ian’s arraignment. Had they already arrived?
Soon enough, Emily and Lola were wheeling a full load to the tennis courts up the hill. “Isn’t this awesome, Santa?” Lola giggled.
“Definitely,” Emily said, but it felt like a bomb was about to go off in her chest. The darkness was playing tricks on her. A bush seemed to scuttle to the left. The wind sounded like a high-pitched giggle.
They dumped the presents onto the ground next to the net and clumsily guided the wheelbarrow back to the clubhouse. Emily worked furiously with Cassie and Heather to pull the ornaments off the Christmas tree. They grabbed glass orb after glass orb, along with a mix of silver and gold stars. Emily tried to wrap them carefully in napkins, but the other girls threw them hastily into the wheelbarrow. Then the girls pulled down all the wreaths, garlands, and strings of mistletoe around the room, stuffing them into the wheelbarrow, too. Just before the last load went out, Cassie directed the girls to stand together in front of the stripped Christmas tree for a photo. “Say Bah Humbug!” Cassie squealed, setting the auto-timer feature on her digital camera and jumping into the picture, too. She took pictures with all the girls’ phones, including Emily’s.
Then they stood back and stared at their handiwork. “It’s awesome,” Cassie breathed.
Emily wasn’t sure the effect was awesome, but it was definitely striking. The tree looked scrawny without any adornments. A bunch of needles had scattered all over the floor, and there were dusty spots from where the presents had been. Without the festive wreaths, candles, and tinsel garland decorations, the dining room seemed a bit shabby and sad, just like what the houses in Whoville looked like after the Grinch had stolen all of their decorations. What would the country club proprietors do when they found the place like this at brunch tomorrow morning? Sing peacefully around the tree, like the Whos did? Right. This was the Rosewood Country Club.
They hefted the door open once more and pushed the wheelbarrow out into the cold. The cart was especially full this time, and it took all five of them to push the thing up the hill. Every creak of the wheels, every elf giggle, made Emily tense. They were so close now. She didn’t want someone hearing them.
They made it to the tennis courts, dumped the rest of the gifts, and ditched the wheelbarrow without incident. The elves started over the hilly golf course to the car. And that was when Emily realized: They had done it. They were running to freedom.
Emily’s heart lifted as she ran after them. Never before had she felt so exhilarated in her life. She grabbed Cassie’s hand and let out an excited whoop, and Cassie whooped back.
“Long live the Merry Elves!” Heather hollered.
When the floodlights snapped on, Emily thought it was just an automatic timer and kept running. But then a bullhorn sounded through the crisp winter night. “Down on the ground! We see you girls! The police are here! They’ve already surrounded your car! There’s nowhere to go!”
Emily froze. All of a sudden, blue and red lights flashed over the bluffs. Her heart dropped to her feet. “No,” she whispered.
“I said, down on the ground!” a second voice said.
Both voices were familiar. Emily turned toward them. Two figures in heavy winter coats stood by the tennis courts, staring squarely at Emily, Cassie, and the others. One of the figures was tall with graying hair. The other wore a felt jacket with a varsity letter R on the front. Even though Emily hadn’t seen the back, she knew intuitively it would say ROSEWOOD SWIMMING in big blue letters. It had been Jake’s old jacket when he swam varsity for Rosewood; now it served as the all-purpose coat for anyone in the Fields family when they were doing dirty work outside—shoveling snow, digging in mud, or climbing up and down the hills of a golf course, tracking down vandals.
Emily’s mouth fell open. The first figure was Mrs. Meriwether. The second figure was her mom.
Chapter 13
A Mole Among Us
“Down on the ground!” Mrs. Fields bellowed again through the bullhorn.
Slowly, the elves dropped to their knees and put their hands up. Emily did the same. Mrs. Meriwether and Emily’s mother barreled up the ledge like FBI agents on a drug raid and surrounded them.
Mrs. Fields grabbed Cassie’s arm and pulled her to her feet again. “You think you’re so clever,” she hissed in a gruff voice Emily had never heard from her before. “Your pranking days are over.”
“We’ve got the whole thing recorded.” Mrs. Meriwether held up a digital camera. “A good half hour of footage of you ravaging that Christmas tree and taking away all of the presents. Don’t you know some of those gifts go to children? You should be ashamed of yourselves!”
“We didn’t get rid of the presents,” Cassie spat, squirming. “They’re on the tennis courts! Don’t you see? The country club owners can just put everything back tomorrow!”
“It’s vandalism of private property.” Mrs. Fields held fast on to Cassie’s arm. “It’s a very sad thing that you girls don’t understand how wrong that is.”
A police officer in a West Rosewood PD uniform bounded over the hill from the opposite direction, his flashlight shining and walkie-talkie squeaking. Emily stared at him. It was Officer O’Neal, the same guy who’d brought his daughter to Santa Land a couple of times, promising her every gift imaginable.