Stunning pll-11

by Sara Shepard

  Derrick leaned in closer, giving Emily a concerned look. “How did everything go with the baby?”

  “Shhh.” Emily looked around, terrified one of the passersby on the busy street might hear. “No one knows about that. Especially my parents.”

  Derrick’s eyebrows shot up. “You still haven’t told them?”

  Emily shook her head. “I didn’t have to.”

  “So I guess you didn’t keep it, then.” Derrick twisted his mouth. “And I know you didn’t give it to Gayle.” He looked wounded. “You know, I should be mad at you. You got me in some deep shit with that woman.”

  Emily shivered at the sound of Gayle’s name. “What do you mean?”

  “About two weeks after you ditched me, she found me in her garden shed and told me you went back on your word. She was unhinged. She thought I had something to do with it, helped you escape or something. She started throwing stuff at me—a bag of birdseed, a rake, then a shovel. She broke a window—it was insane. I tried to tell her I had no idea what she was talking about, but she didn’t believe me.” He bit his lip. “I’d never seen her so . . . violent.”

  Emily covered her mouth with her hands. She thought of A’s last note, which all but spelled out how Gayle was searching for the baby. What did Gayle have planned when she found her? Was she going to take her away from the Bakers? And exactly what role was A playing in it all?

  Emily felt a presence beside her and looked up. Standing opposite Derrick, with a strange look on his face, was Isaac. “H-hey,” he said cautiously. His eyes flickered to Derrick, then back to her.

  “Oh!” Emily blurted a little too loudly. “Isaac! Hey!” She gestured to Derrick. “This is my friend, Derrick. Derrick, this is, uh, Isaac.”

  Derrick’s eyes widened. “Isaac?” Emily remembered that one night last summer, she’d admitted Isaac’s name to Derrick.

  “W-we should get going,” Emily said, inserting herself between the two boys. She knew Derrick wouldn’t say anything, but this was just too weird.

  “We should finish catching up sometime,” Derrick said, patting Emily on the shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

  “Uh huh,” Emily said quickly, taking Isaac’s arm and hurrying down the street. “Great to see you, Derrick! Bye!” She felt bad for ditching Derrick again, but she didn’t dare turn around.

  They passed a retro toy store, a bank, and an empty storefront before Isaac cleared his throat. “So who was that?”

  “Derrick?” Emily chirped innocently, pushing into the ice cream shop. The bells on the door chimed cheerfully. “Oh, he’s just a friend I met last summer in Philly.”

  Then she gazed hard at the menu board above the counter and started to ramble. “So what are you going to get? I hear the cherry vanilla is really good. Or, ooh, look! Organic rocky road!” If she kept talking, she figured, Isaac wouldn’t be able to get a word in edgewise.

  “Emily.”

  She looked up guiltily. In the bright light of the ice cream parlor, Isaac’s eyes looked bluer than ever. He fiddled with a string bracelet around his wrist. “Are you sure you’re all right? You seem really freaked.”

  “Of course I’m all right!” Emily said, knowing her voice sounded high-pitched and strange.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Isaac said, “but did that Derrick guy do something to you? It seemed like you couldn’t wait to get away from him.”

  Emily searched his face. “Oh my God, no.” It was so funny that she burst out laughing. If only it was that simple.

  The line shifted, and Emily and Isaac moved closer to the register. “I care about you, that’s all. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

  Emily kept her gaze fixed on the chrome ice cream scoops behind the counter, her heart breaking from Isaac’s kindness. She wanted him to care about her. “He’s just an old friend I confided in a lot about Ali—that’s probably what you were sensing,” she said haltingly. “There’s nothing weird going on. I promise.”

  “Are you sure?” Isaac asked, grabbing Emily’s hands.

  “Positive.” She peered at their entwined fingers. They looked so nice together. Did the baby’s hands look like a combination of theirs? Did the baby have Isaac’s smile, Emily’s freckles? A lump formed in her throat.

  “Okay, well in that case, there was actually something I wanted to ask you about,” Isaac said, looking serious.

  Emily swallowed hard, suddenly worried he could read her thoughts. “Yeah?”

  Isaac looked into her eyes. “Do you want to go with me to Tom Marin’s fund-raiser ball tomorrow? It sounds fun, and my dad’s company isn’t catering it.”

  “Oh!” Emily said, unable to hide her surprise. She’d intended on going to the fund-raiser alone, especially since she was only going in order to help the girls steal Gayle’s phone. Bringing Isaac would be tricky. What if Gayle said something? What if she took one look at Isaac and knew, somehow, he was the father?

  But Isaac was looking at her nervously, like he’d be crushed if she said no. And before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “Yes!”

  “Great!” Isaac said, looking relived. “It’s a date.”

  Emily forced a bright smile on her face. She’d never felt so many things at once. Freaked, definitely. Pleased, too—she did want to see Isaac again. But she also hated herself for everything she wasn’t telling him. She was playing a very dangerous game.

  It was their turn to order, and they stepped up to the counter. A motorcycle engine revved, and she glanced at the street out the window. There, across the wide avenue, backlit by the neon sign of the Hollis Liquor Store, stood someone in a black hood, staring at her. At first, she thought it might be Derrick, but this person was smaller, thinner. Emily shot away from Isaac and wound around the tables to get a closer look, but by the time she was at the glass, the figure was gone.

  22

  THE TOUGHEST DECISION EVER

  Aria stood at the window of Ella’s house in Rosewood, peering out at the dark street. She felt a hand on her shoulder and smelled Ella’s familiar patchouli perfume. Her mother wore a paint-spattered artist’s smock and chopsticks in her hair. She’d recently gotten inspiration for a new painting series, and between her new boyfriend, her job at an art gallery in Hollis, and her time in the studio, Aria barely saw her.

  “What are you and Noel up to tonight?” she asked, perching on the paisley wing chair she and Byron had bought at a flea market a million years ago. “That’s who you’re waiting for, right?”

  A lump formed in Aria’s throat. Truthfully, she was hoping Noel wouldn’t show up for their date. That way, Aria wouldn’t have to break up with him.

  A’s note had tortured her all day, and she’d debated saying something versus keeping quiet. If she kept the secret, she’d have to end things. On the other hand, if she outed Noel’s father, Noel would hate her and probably break up with her anyway. And how the hell had A found out? How did A know everything?

  Aria had no doubt that A would spill Mr. Kahn’s cross-dressing secret if she didn’t act soon. It was bad enough that she still felt like she’d ruined her own family—

  she couldn’t ruin Noel’s, too. Only, could she really dump Noel after all they’d been through? She loved him so much.

  She looked up at her mom and took a deep breath. “Do you still blame me for what happened between you and Byron?”

  Ella blinked hard. “What do you mean, still?”

  “I kept it a secret. If I would have said something to you, maybe you could have . . .”

  Aria’s mother sank further into the chair cushion. “Honey, your father put you in a horrible position. You should have never had to make the decision to tell or not to tell. Even if you had told me sooner, it wouldn’t have changed anything in the end. It’s not your fault.” She laid a hand on Aria’s thigh.

  “I know, but you got so mad at me for not saying anything,” Aria mumbled. Ella had kicked her out of the house, and she’d had to live with Sean Ackard, her the
n-boyfriend.

  Ella cradled a knitted throw pillow between her hands. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that. I was just so blindsided, and I had to lash out at someone.” She looked up. “I’m sorry, too, honey. You shouldn’t dwell over this. Things happen. And we’re all happier and healthier now, right?”

  Aria nodded, feeling a knot in her stomach. “But if we were to do it all over again, would you rather I told you sooner?”

  Ella thought about this for a moment, running her finger over her bottom lip. “Maybe not,” she said. “I think I needed to be in the dark, at least for a little while longer. I needed to get strong enough to know what I wanted and realize that I was capable of living on my own. Moving to Iceland, figuring out a new country, that really helped me, but it was because of your father that we went there. So, actually, Aria, if I had known earlier, I never would have gotten that experience. In a weird way, I’m glad I found out when I did.”

  Aria nodded, working this over in her mind. “So you’re saying that if you know a secret about someone, but you also know that someone else isn’t ready to hear it, you should keep it to yourself?”

  “I guess it depends.” Ella wrinkled her brow, looking suspicious. “Why? Do you know a secret about someone?”

  “No,” Aria said quickly. “I was just speaking hypothetically.”

  Her mom’s cell phone rang, saving Aria from having to explain further. But then she peered out the window and saw Noel’s Escalade parked at the curb, and her stomach clenched. Ella’s advice made perfect sense, but that meant she had to break up with Noel.

  Swallowing hard, she waved good-bye to Ella, zipped up her denim jacket, and stepped out the door. Her heart broke when she saw Noel’s smiling face through the window. “You look gorgeous, as usual,” he crooned when she opened the door.

  “Thanks,” Aria mumbled, even though she’d worn her ugliest jeans and a big, bulky sweater that was one of her first knitting projects. She wanted to seem as unattractive as possible to soften the blow.

  “So where do you want to go?” Noel shifted into drive and pulled away from the curb. “Williams-Sonoma for cooking supplies? I hear next week we’re making popovers.”

  Aria stared at the passing streetlamps until her vision blurred, keeping her mouth shut. She was afraid that if she said anything, she’d burst into tears.

  “Okay, not in a Williams-Sonoma mood,” Noel said slowly, turning the steering wheel. “What about that cool coffee bar we found in Yarmouth? Or hey, we could go back to that psychic shop by the train station. Where it all began.” He nudged Aria playfully. He was referring to how they’d bonded at a séance at the shop last year.

  Aria fiddled with the zipper on her jacket, wishing Noel would just be quiet.

  “Last-ditch effort,” Noel said cheerfully. “How about we go to Hollis and just get really drunk? Play some darts and beer pong, act like idiots . . .”

  “Noel, I can’t,” Aria blurted.

  Noel came to a stop at a light adjacent to a big strip mall. “Can’t what? Drink?” He grinned. “C’mon. I saw you drink plenty in Iceland.”

  She winced. Iceland just twisted the knife more painfully—it was yet another secret she was keeping. “No, I can’t do . . . this.” Her voice cracked. “Me and you. It’s not working.”

  A frozen smile appeared on Noel’s face. “Wait. What?”

  “I’m serious.” She stared at the glowing red clock numbers on the dashboard. “I want to break up.”

  The light turned green, and Noel wordlessly swerved into the other lane and turned into the strip mall. It was one of those monstrous shopping plazas that contained a Barnes & Noble superstore, a Target, a warehouse-size wine shop, and a bunch of upscale salons and jewelry boutiques.

  Noel pulled into a parking space, shut off the engine, and looked at her. “Why?”

  Aria kept her head down. “I don’t know.”

  “You’ve got to have some reason. It’s not Klaudia, is it? Because I can’t stand that girl, I swear.”

  “It’s not Klaudia.”

  Noel ran his hands over his forehead. “Are you into someone else? That Ezra guy?”

  Aria shook her head vigorously. “Of course not.”

  “Then what? Tell me!”

  There was an imploring, desperate expression on his face. It took everything in Aria’s power not to throw her arms around Noel and tell him she didn’t mean it, but A’s note was branded in her mind. She wouldn’t be responsible for wrecking his family. She needed to get as far away from Noel as possible. She was poison to him.

  “I’m sorry, but it’s just something I have to do,” she whispered. “I’ll come by tomorrow and get the stuff I left at your house.” Then she reached for the door handle and swung her legs to the pavement. The cold air assaulted her senses. The aroma of brick-oven pizza wafted into her nostrils, turning her stomach.

  “Aria.” Noel leaned over and caught her arm. “Please. Don’t go.” Aria bit back tears, staring blankly at the shopping cart corral. “There’s nothing more to say,” she said in a dead voice. Then she jumped out of the car, slammed the door hard, and started walking blindly toward the closest store, a Babies “R” Us. Noel called her name again and again, but she kept walking, staring at her boots, breathing in and out, and making sure no cars ran her over. Finally, the Escalade’s engine revved, and the SUV backed up and gunned toward the exit.

  Beep.

  Aria’s phone sounded from the bottom of her bag. The screen was lit up as she pulled it out. A new text had come in.

  Kudos, Aria. No pain, no gain, right? Mwah! —A

  Aria threw her phone back in her bag, hard. You win, A, she thought, blinking through tears. You win every goddamn time.

  She was at the curb of the Babies “R” Us by now. A stroller display took up the whole window, and banners of happy, giggling babies decorated the store. Pregnant women cruised the aisles, buying baby bottles, onesies, and diapers. All the happiness she saw felt like a kick in the stomach. She felt the urge to ram a shopping cart into the window and watch the glass shatter around the blissful scene.

  The automatic doors swished open, and a woman in an expensive-looking black wool coat pushed a cart full of shopping bags down the ramp. She looked just as joyful as the others, though there was something about her expression that looked a little strained. Aria squinted hard, her pulse racing.

  It was Gayle. But what was she doing here? Stocking up on stuff for when she kidnapped Emily’s baby?

  Without breaking her stride, Gayle met Aria’s gaze. Her eyebrows shot up, and she winked, seeming pleased with herself. Probably because she’d been the one who’d written the note demanding that Aria and Noel break up. Probably because she saw Aria’s tear-streaked face now and understood that Aria had gone through with it.

  Because she was A, and she was pulling all the strings.

  23

  LADIES WHO LUNCHEON

  Spencer rang the bell at the Ivy House, then stepped back and examined her reflection in the glass next to the door. It was Sunday afternoon, a few minutes after Harper had told her to arrive for the potluck, and she was ready. She’d managed to blow-dry her hair with the shoddy hair dryer at the motel and had done her makeup in the cracked mirror. The iron had worked to press the wrinkles out of the dress she’d brought, and, most importantly, she was holding three pans of gooey, chocolatey pot brownies in her hands.

  The door flung open, and Harper, dressed in a polka-dotted sheath and high patent-leather heels, gave her a cool smile. “Hi, Spencer. You made it.”

  “Yep, and I brought brownies.” Spencer proffered the foil pans. “Double chocolate.” With a sprinkling of pot, she wanted to add.

  Harper looked pleased. “Brownies are perfect. C’mon in.”

  Spencer figured the potluck would be filled with only desserts—pot brownies, specifically. But when Harper led her into an enormous, state-of-the-art kitchen, complete with a huge, eight-burner Wolf oven, a massive fridge, and an is
land bigger than the Hastings’ dining room table, there were all sorts of dishes spread out. Quinoa casseroles. Quiche. Baked ziti, steam rising from the tray. There was a large punch bowl full of reddish liquid with apple chunks floating on top. A cheese platter was piled high with Brie, Manchego, and Stilton.

  She gaped at the spread. How had everyone managed to smuggle drugs into all this stuff? It had been a struggle for Spencer to simply bake the brownies; the oven in the motel’s kitchen had been a godsend. She’d begged the guy on night desk duty to let her use it, mixing up the brownie batch in her ice bucket and crumbling in the pot at the last minute. She’d fallen asleep on the pleather couch in the lobby while they were cooking, waking up only when the buzzer went off. She had no idea if they’d be good or not, but it didn’t matter—she’d done it.

  Reefer’s admonishing words rushed through her head. Do you really need a stupid club to tell you that you’re cool? But he’d probably said all that disparaging stuff about Ivy because he knew he’d never get into something so prestigious. Loser.

  “Plates and silverware are that way.” Harper gestured to a table.

  Spencer hovered over the food, amazed that every single item contained an illegal substance. She didn’t want to eat any of it. She muttered something about not being hungry and followed Harper into the parlor.

  The room was packed with well-dressed boys in ties and khakis and girls in dresses. Classical music played in the background, and a waitress was wandering around with flutes of mimosa. Spencer overheard conversations about a composer she’d never heard of, nature versus nurture, foreign policy in Afghanistan, and vacationing on St. Barts. This was why she wanted to belong to Ivy—everyone spoke in such smart, informed, adult voices about sophisticated topics. Screw Reefer and his judgmental attitude.

  Harper had joined Quinn and Jessie. The girls looked at Spencer with surprise, but then gave her a cautious smile and a cordial hello. Everyone sank into a leather couch and resumed their conversation about a girl named Patricia; apparently, her boyfriend had gotten her pregnant over the holiday break.