Wicked

Page 11

Ella lifted up the dress by its hanger and carried it in the bathroom. As she shut the door and turned on the tap, the doorbell rang.
“Shit.” Ella poked her head out of the bathroom door, her smoky eyes wide. “He’s early. Will you get it?”
“Me?” Aria squeaked.
“Tell him I’ll be down in a second.” Ella slammed the door shut.
Aria blinked. The doorbell rang again. She rushed over to the bathroom. “What should I do if he’s really ugly?” she whispered loudly through the door. “What if he has hair growing out of his ears?”
“It’s only one date, Aria,” Ella laughed.
Aria squared her shoulders and walked to the foot of the stairs. She could see a shadowy figure shifting back and forth through the mottled glass of the front door.
Taking a deep breath, she whipped the door open. A guy with short hair stood on the stoop. For a moment, Aria couldn’t speak.
“…Xavier?” she finally squeaked.
“Aria?” Xavier narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Are…you…?”
“Hello?” Ella glided down the stairs behind them, fastening a hoop earring in her ear. The teal dress fit her perfectly, and her dark hair spilled down her back. “Hi!” Ella chirped to Xavier, grinning widely. “You must be Wolfgang!”
“Oh God, no.” Xavier’s hand flew to his mouth. “That’s my profile name.” His eyes darted from Aria to Ella. A smile bloomed across his lips, almost like he was trying not to laugh. Standing under the light in the foyer, he looked quite a bit older—probably in his early thirties, at least. “My name is Xavier, actually. And you’re Ella?”
“Yes.” Ella put her hand on Aria’s shoulder. “And this is my daughter, Aria.”
“I know,” Xavier said slowly.
Ella looked confused. “We met on Sunday,” Aria quickly interjected, still not able to shake the baffled tone from her voice. “At that gallery opening. Xavier was one of the artists.”
“You’re Xavier Reeves?” Ella cried gleefully. “I was going to go to your show, but I gave my invite to Aria instead.” She looked at Aria. “I was so busy today I didn’t even ask you about it! Was it good?”
Aria blinked rapidly. “I…”
Xavier touched Ella’s arm. “She can’t say anything bad about it with me standing here! Ask her after I’m gone.”
Ella chortled as if this was the funniest thing anyone had ever said. Then she slung her arm around Aria’s shoulders. Aria could feel her mother’s forearm shaking. She’s nervous, Aria thought. Ella had totally fallen for Xavier at first sight.
“This is a crazy coincidence, huh?” Xavier said.
“It’s a wonderful coincidence,” Ella corrected.
She turned to Aria expectantly. Aria felt the need to paste the same dumb smile on her face. “It’s wonderful,” she echoed. Wonderfully weird.
9
YOU’RE NOT PARANOID IF HE’S REALLY AFTER YOU
Later that same Tuesday, Emily slammed the door to her mom’s Volvo and walked across Spencer’s enormous front yard. She’d skipped the second half of swim practice to meet with her old friends, as Marion had suggested, to check in with one another and talk.
Just as she was about to ring the bell, her Nokia chimed. Emily dug it out of her bright yellow ski parka and looked at the screen. Isaac had sent her a ringtone. When she opened it up, she heard her favorite Jimmy Eat World song, the one that included the line, Can you still feel the butterflies? She’d listened to it a lot last September when she was falling for Maya. Hey Emily, said the accompanying text. This song reminds me of you. See you at Chem Hill tomorrow!
Emily blushed, pleased. She and Isaac had texted back and forth all day. He’d filled her in on the details of his religion class—taught by none other than Father Tyson, who’d gotten Isaac into the Lord of the Rings books too—and Emily had recapped the horror that had been her oral report on the Battle of Bunker Hill for history. They’d compared favorite books and TV shows and discovered they both liked M. Night Shyamalan movies, even though he was terrible at dialogue. Emily had never been one of those girls who was glued to her phone during school hours—and anyway, it was technically forbidden at Rosewood Day—but whenever she heard her phone make a low-pitched little ping, she felt the urge to write back to Isaac immediately.
She’d asked herself several times that day exactly what she was doing and grappled to assess her feelings. Did she like Isaac? Was she even capable of that?
A branch cracked nearby, and Emily looked down Spencer’s front walk to the dark, quiet street. The air smelled cold, like nothing. A thick coating of ice had turned the Cavanaugh mailbox flag from red to white. Down the street was the Vanderwaals’, eerily unoccupied—Mona’s family had disappeared from town after she died. A shiver ran up Emily’s spine. A had lived just steps away from Spencer the whole time, and none of them had known.
Shuddering, Emily dropped her phone back into her jacket pocket and pressed Spencer’s front bell. There were footsteps, and then Spencer flung open the door, her dirty-blond hair spilling down her shoulders. “We’re back in the media room,” she mumbled.
The smell of butter permeated the air, and Aria and Hanna were perched on the edge of the couch, picking at a big plastic bowl of microwave popcorn. The TV was tuned to The Hills, the sound on mute. “So,” Emily said, flopping onto the chaise. “Are we supposed to call Marion, or what?”
Spencer shrugged. “She didn’t really say. She just said we should…talk.”
They all looked around at one another, silent.
“So, girls, are we all doing our chants?” Hanna said in a fake-concerned voice.
“Ommmm,” Aria hummed, erupting into giggles.
Emily picked at a loose thread on her navy blue Rosewood Day blazer, kind of wanting to defend Marion. She was trying to help. She gazed around the room, noticing something propped up against the base of a large wire sculpture of the Eiffel Tower. It was the black-and-white photograph of Ali standing in front of the Rosewood Day bike racks, her school blazer slung over her arm—the one Emily had asked Spencer not to burn.
Emily studied the candid. There was something very sharp and realistic about it. She could practically feel the crisp autumn air and smell the crabapple trees on Rosewood Day’s front lawn. Ali was staring at the camera dead-on, her mouth open in laughter. There was a piece of paper in her right hand. Emily squinted at the words. Time Capsule Starts Tomorrow! Get Ready!
“Whoa.” Emily leapt off the chaise and held up the photo for the others to see. Aria read the flyer and widened her eyes too. “Do you remember that day?” Emily asked. “When Ali announced that she was going to find one of the pieces of the flag?”
“What day?” Hanna unfolded her long legs and walked over to them. “Oh. Huh.”
Spencer was behind them now, finally curious. “The common was totally mobbed. Everyone saw the sign at once.”
Emily hadn’t thought about that day in a long time. She’d been so excited when she’d seen the flyer about the Time Capsule game beginning. And then Ali had marched outside with Naomi and Riley, pushed through the crowd, torn down the sign, and announced that one of the pieces was as good as hers.
Emily looked up, startled by the memory of what had happened next. “Guys. Ian came up to her. Remember?”
Spencer nodded slowly. “He teased her that she shouldn’t brag that she was going to find a piece, because someone might try to steal it from her.”
Hanna’s hand fluttered to her mouth. “And Ali said there was no way that could be true. Whoever wanted her piece would have to…”
“…kill her to get it.” Spencer’s face was ashen. “And then Ian said something like, ‘Well, if that’s what it takes.’”
“God,” Aria whispered.
Emily’s stomach rumbled. Ian’s words had been so eerily prophetic, but how could they have known to take him seriously? Back then, the only thing Emily had known about Ian Thomas was that he was Rosewood Day’s go-to guy if they needed an upperclassman representative to help out at the elementary school’s field day or corral kids in the cafeteria when a big snowstorm made the buses late. That day, after Ali strolled away with her posse, Ian had turned and walked casually to his car. It didn’t seem like the behavior of someone who was planning murder…which made the whole thing creepier.
“And then the next morning she was so smug, everyone knew she’d found the piece,” Spencer said with a frown, like it still bothered her that Ali had found the flag instead of her.
Hanna stared at the photo. “I wanted Ali’s piece of the Time Capsule flag so badly.”
“Me too,” Emily admitted. She glanced over at Aria, who shifted uncomfortably and seemed to be studiously avoiding everyone’s eyes.
“We all wanted to win.” Spencer sat back down on the couch and hugged a blue satin pillow to her chest. “Otherwise we wouldn’t have shown up in her yard two days later to steal it.”
“Isn’t it weird someone else stole Ali’s piece first?” Hanna asked, turning a chunky turquoise bracelet around and around her wrist. “I wonder whatever happened to it?”
Suddenly, Spencer’s sister, Melissa, burst into the room. She wore a baggy beige sweater and wide-leg jeans. Her round face was ashen. “Guys.” Her voice shook. “Turn on the news. Now.” She pointed to the TV.
Emily and the others stared at Melissa for a beat without moving. Frustrated, Melissa grabbed the remote and keyed in channel four herself. The screen showed a crowd of people thrusting microphones in someone’s face. The news camera wobbled, as if it was constantly being jostled around. Then, some of the heads parted. First, Emily saw a guy with a strong jaw and stunning green eyes. It was Darren Wilden, Rosewood’s youngest cop, the officer who had helped them find Spencer when Mona had kidnapped her. When Wilden stepped away, the camera fixed on someone in a rumpled suit. His floppy golden hair was unforgettable. Emily’s whole body went limp.
“Ian?” she whispered.
Aria grabbed Emily’s hand.
Spencer stared at Melissa, her face completely white. “What’s going on? Why isn’t he in prison?”
Melissa shook her head helplessly. “I don’t know.”
Ian’s blond hair shone like that of a polished bronze statue, but his face looked sallow. The screen switched to a News 4 reporter. “Mr. Thomas’s mother has been diagnosed with aggressive pancreatic cancer,” she explained. “There has just been an emergency hearing, and Thomas has been granted temporary bail to visit her.”
“What?” Hanna screamed.
A banner at the bottom of the screen said: JUDGE BAXTER RULES ON THOMAS BAIL REQUEST. Emily’s heart hammered in her ears. Ian’s lawyer, a silver-haired man in a pin-striped suit, pushed to the front of the crowd and stood in front of the cameras. Flashbulbs flared in the background. “It was my client’s mother’s dying wish to spend her last days with her son,” he announced. “And I’m thrilled we won the motion for temporary bail. Ian will be under house arrest until his trial starts on Friday.”