“Yeah.” Aria felt herself blushing. They used to screen Aria’s pseudo-artsy movies in Ali’s den, and sometimes Jason would pause in the doorway to watch. Aria used to feel so self-conscious about him being there, but at the same time, she longed for him to comment on her movies. To say they were brilliant, maybe, or at the very least thought provoking.
“You were the only one with substance,” Jason added, giving her a kind, alluring smile. Aria’s insides turned over. Substance was good…right?
“Are you going into Philadelphia?” Aria blurted, groping for something to say. She instantly wanted to smack her forehead. Duh. Of course he was going into Philadelphia. This train line didn’t go anywhere else.
Jason nodded. “To Penn. I just transferred. I used to go to Yale.”
Aria refrained from saying I know. The day Ali told them Jason had gotten into Yale, his top-choice school, Aria had considered drawing him a Congratulations card. But she decided against it, afraid Ali would tease her.
“It’s great,” Jason went on. “I only have classes Mondays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays, and I get out early enough to take the three P.M. bullet train back to Yarmouth.”
“Yarmouth?” Aria repeated.
“My parents moved there for the trial.” Jason shrugged and riffled his paperback’s pages through his fingers. “I moved into the apartment above the garage. I figured they needed me to help them through this…stuff.”
“Right.” Aria’s stomach started to ache. She couldn’t imagine how Jason was dealing with Ali’s murder—not only had his old classmate killed her, but that he’d then vanished. She licked her lips, thinking of answers for what she guessed would be his next questions: What was it like seeing Ian’s body in the woods? Where do you think it is now? Do you think someone moved it?
But Jason just sighed. “I usually get on at Yarmouth, but today I had something to do in Rosewood. So here I am.”
Outside, an Amtrak bullet train roared into the station. The other people who had been waiting stood up and clattered through the door to the platform. After the train roared away, Jason walked across the aisle and sat down right next to Aria. “So…don’t you have school?” he asked.
Aria opened her mouth, fumbling for an answer. Jason was suddenly so close to her, she could easily smell his nutty, spicy soap. It was intoxicating. “Uh, nope. It’s parent-teacher conference day.”
“Do you always wear your uniform on days off?” Jason pointed to the bottom hem of Aria’s plaid Rosewood Day skirt. It was peeking out under her long wool coat.
Aria felt her cheeks blaze. “I don’t usually ditch, I swear.”
“I won’t tell,” Jason teased. He leaned forward, making the bench creak. “You know the go-kart place on Wembley Road? Once I went there for the whole day. Drove that little car around and around for hours.”
Aria chuckled. “Was the lanky guy there? The one who wears head-to-toe NASCAR gear?” Mike used to be obsessed with that go-kart track—before he became obsessed with strippers and lacrosse.
“Jimmy?” Jason’s eyes sparkled. “Totally.”
“And he didn’t ask why you weren’t in school?” Aria asked, curling her hand over the bench’s armrest. “He’s usually so nosy.”
“Nope.” Jason poked her shoulder. “But I had sense enough to change out of my uniform so it wouldn’t be so obvious. Then again, the girls’ uniforms are way cuter than the guys’.”
Aria suddenly felt so bashful, she turned her head and stared fixedly at the row of potato chips and pretzels in the vending machine. Was Jason flirting?
Jason’s eyes gleamed. He breathed in, maybe about to say something else. Aria hoped he was about to ask her on a date—or maybe even for her phone number. Then the conductor’s voice blared over the loudspeaker, announcing that the eastbound train to Philadelphia would arrive in three minutes.
“I guess that’s us,” Aria said, zipping up her jacket. “Want to ride together?”
But Jason didn’t answer. When Aria looked over, he was staring at the television. His skin had turned pale and his mouth was a taut, distressed line. “I…uh…I just realized. I have to go.” He stood up sloppily, pulling his books into his chest.
“W-what? Why?” Aria cried.
Jason maneuvered around the benches, not answering. He bumped against Aria as he passed, upending her purse. “Oops,” she mumbled, wincing as a super-plus tampon and her lucky Beanie Baby cow spilled to the sticky concrete floor. “Sorry,” Jason muttered, pushing out the door to the parking lot.
Aria gazed after him, astonished. What the hell just happened? And why was Jason going back to his car…and not into the city?
Her cheeks burned with sudden awareness. Jason had probably realized how Aria felt about him. And maybe, because he didn’t mean to lead her on, he’d decided to drive into Philadelphia by himself instead of ride the train with her. How could she have been so stupid to think Jason was flirting? So what if he’d said she was the only one with substance, or that she looked cute in a skirt. So what that he’d given her Ali’s Time Capsule flag way back in the day. None of that necessarily meant anything. In the end, Aria was nothing more than one of the nameless Alis.
Humiliated, Aria slowly turned back to the TV. To her surprise, a news broadcast had interrupted Regis & Kelly. The headline caught Aria’s eye. Thomas’s Body a Hoax.
The blood drained from Aria’s face. She whirled around and scanned the line of cars in the parking lot. Or was this why Jason ran off so quickly?
On television, the Rosewood chief of police was speaking to a bevy of microphones. “We’ve been searching those woods for two days straight and can’t find a single trace of Mr. Thomas’s body,” he said. “Maybe we need to step back and consider other…possibilities.”
Aria frowned. What other possibilities?
The feed cut to Ian’s mother. A bunch of microphones were shoved under her chin. “Ian e-mailed us yesterday,” she said. “He didn’t say where he was, just that he was safe…and that he didn’t do it.” She paused to wipe her eyes. “We’re still verifying if it really was from him or not. I pray that it wasn’t someone using his account to play a trick on us.”
Then Officer Wilden popped onto the screen. “I wanted to believe the girls when they told me they saw Ian in the woods,” he said, looking contrite. “But even from the start, I wasn’t really sure. I had a terrible feeling this might be a ploy for our attention.”
Aria’s mouth dropped open. What?
And finally, the camera focused on a bearded man in thick glasses and a gray sweater. Dr. Henry Warren, Psychiatrist, Rosewood Hospital, the caption below him said. “Being the center of attention is an addictive feeling,” the doctor explained. “If the focus has been on someone for long enough, they begin to…crave it. Sometimes, people take any measure possible to keep all eyes on them, even if that means embellishing the truth. Making up false realities.”
An anchor came on again, saying they’d have more on this story at the top of the hour. As the broadcast broke for a commercial, Aria placed her palms flat on the bench and took heaping breaths. What. The. Hell?
Outside, the eastbound SEPTA roared into the station and screeched to a halt. Suddenly, Aria didn’t feel like going into Philly anymore. What was the point? No matter where she went, baggage from Rosewood would always follow her.
She walked back to the parking lot, scanning for Jason’s tall frame and blond hair. There wasn’t a person in sight. The road in front of the station was empty, too, the traffic lights silently swinging. For just a moment, Aria felt like she was the only human left in the world. She swallowed hard, a peculiar feeling creeping down her neck to her tailbone. Jason had been here just now, hadn’t he? And they had seen Ian’s body in the woods…right? For a moment, she felt like she really was going crazy, just like the psychiatrist had insinuated.
But she quickly shook off the thought. As the train pulled out of the station, Aria walked back to her car. Not having anywhere bet
ter to go, she finally drove back to school.
Killer
7
KATE 1, HANNA 1
Hanna set her venti skim latte on the sugar and milk counter at Steam, the coffee bar adjacent to the Rosewood Day cafeteria. It was lunchtime that Tuesday, and Kate, Naomi, and Riley were still in line. One by one, Hanna heard each of them order an extra-large mint tea. Hanna had missed the memo, but apparently, mint tea was the drink du jour.
She ripped open a second Splenda packet with her teeth. If only she had a Percocet to go with her latte—or, better yet, a gun. So far, lunch had been a disaster. First, Naomi and Riley had fawned over Kate’s Frye boots, saying nothing about Hanna’s far-cuter Chie Mihara sling-backs. Then they’d babbled on about how much fun they’d had at Rive Gauche yesterday—one of the college-age waiters had sneaked the girls tons of pinot noir. After they’d drunk their fill, they popped into Sephora, and Kate bought Naomi and Riley gel-filled eye masks to ease their hangovers. The girls brought the masks to school today and put them on during an extra-long bathroom break during second-period study hall. The only thing that lifted Hanna’s spirits was seeing that the cold mask had turned the area around Riley’s brown eyes a harsh, chapped red.
“Hmph,” Hanna sniffed quietly. She tossed the empty Splenda packet into the little chrome trash can, vowing to buy Naomi and Riley something far better than a stupid mask. Then she noticed the flat-screen TV above the big jug of lemon water. Usually, the TV was tuned to the closed-circuit Rosewood Day channel, which showed recaps of school sporting events, choral concerts, and on-the-spot interviews, but today, someone had turned it to the news. No Thomas Body in Woods, said the headline.
Her stomach churned. Aria had told her about this story earlier this morning in AP English. How could the Thomases have received a note from Ian? How could there be no trace of Ian in those woods, no blood, no hair, nothing? Did that mean they hadn’t seen him? Did that mean he was still…alive?
And why were the cops saying Hanna and the others had made it up? Wilden hadn’t seemed to think they’d made it up the night of the party. In fact, if Wilden hadn’t been so damn hard to find that night, they could’ve gotten back to the woods faster. Maybe they could’ve even caught Ian before he got away—or got dragged away. But no, the Rosewood PD couldn’t look like screwups…so they had to make Hanna and the others look crazy instead. And all this time, she’d thought Wilden had her back.
Hanna quickly turned away from the TV, wanting to put the story out of her mind. Then something behind the cinnamon sifter caught her eye. It looked like…fabric. And it was the exact same color as the Rosewood Day flag.
Hanna swallowed hard, yanked the fabric free, spread it out, and gasped. It was a piece of cloth, cut into a jagged square. The very edge of the Rosewood Day crest was in the upper right-hand corner. Safety-pinned to the back was a piece of paper with the number 16 on it. Rosewood Day always numbered each piece so they’d know how to sew the flag back together.
“What’s that?” said a voice. Hanna jumped, startled. Kate had slunk up behind her.
Hanna took a second to react, her mind still reeling from the Ian news. “It’s for this stupid game,” she muttered.
Kate pursed her lips. “The game that started today? Time Warp?”
Hanna rolled her eyes. “Time Capsule.”
Kate took a long sip of her tea. “Once all twenty pieces of the flag have been found, they will be sewn back together and buried in a Time Capsule behind the soccer fields,” she recited from the posters that had appeared all over school. Leave it to goody-goody Kate to have memorized the Time Capsule rules, as if she were going to be tested on them later. “And then you’ll get your name immortalized on a bronze plaque. That’s a big deal, right?”
“Whatev,” Hanna mumbled. Talk about ironic—when she didn’t give a shit about Time Capsule anymore, she found a piece without even looking at the clues posted in the school lobby. In sixth grade, the first year she’d been allowed to play, Hanna had fantasized about how she’d decorate a piece if she were lucky enough to find one. Some kids drew pointless things on their pieces, like a flower or a smiley face or—dumbest of all—the Rosewood Day crest, but Hanna understood that a well-decorated Time Capsule flag was as important as carrying the right handbag or getting highlights from the Henri Flaubert salon in the King James. When Hanna, Spencer, and the others confronted Ali in her backyard the day after the game started, Ali had described in detail what she’d drawn on her stolen piece. A Chanel logo. The Louis Vuitton pattern. A manga frog. A girl playing field hockey. As soon as Hanna got home that day, she wrote down everything Ali said she’d drawn on her flag, not wanting to forget. It sounded so glamorous and exactly right.
Then, in eighth grade, Hanna and Mona found a Time Capsule piece together. Hanna wanted to incorporate Ali’s elements into the design, but she was afraid Mona might ask her what they meant—she hated bringing up Ali to Mona, since Mona had been one of the girls Ali loved to tease. Hanna thought she was being a good friend—little did she know Mona was slowly masterminding a way to ruin Hanna’s life.
Naomi and Riley bounded over, both of them immediately noticing Hanna’s flag. Riley’s brown eyes boggled. She reached a pale, freckly arm out to touch the piece, but Hanna snapped it back, feeling protective. It would be just like one of these bitches to steal Hanna’s flag when she wasn’t looking. All of a sudden, she understood what Ali meant when she told Ian she was going to guard her piece with her life. And she understood, too, why Ali had been furious the day someone had stolen it from her.
Then again, Ali had been furious, but not exactly devastated. In fact, Ali had been more distracted that day than anything else. Hanna distinctly remembered how Ali kept looking over at the woods and her house, as if she thought someone was listening. Then, after whining about her missing piece for a while, Ali suddenly snapped back to her bitchy, frosty self, walking away from Hanna and the others without another word, like there was something more important on her mind than talking to four losers.
When it was clear Ali wasn’t coming back outside, Hanna had walked to the front yard and retrieved her bike. Ali’s street had seemed so pleasant. The Cavanaughs had a pretty red tree house in their side yard. Spencer’s family had a big windmill spinning at the back of the property. There was a house down the street that had a humungous six-car garage and a water fountain in the front yard. Later, Hanna would learn it was where Mona lived.
And then she’d heard an engine backfiring. A sleek, vintage black car with tinted windows chugged at Ali’s curb, as if waiting…or watching. Something about it made the hair on the back of Hanna’s neck stand up. Maybe that’s who stole Ali’s flag, she’d thought. Not that she ever found out for sure.
Hanna gazed at Naomi, who was adding Splenda to her mint tea. Naomi and Riley used to be Ali’s best friends in sixth grade, but right after Time Capsule started, Ali ditched them both. She never explained why. Maybe Naomi and Riley had been the ones who’d stolen Ali’s flag—maybe they’d been inside that black car Hanna had seen at the curb. And maybe that was why Ali dropped them—maybe Ali asked them for her flag back, and when they denied they’d taken it, she cut them off. But if that was what happened, why didn’t Naomi or Riley turn in the flag as their own? Why did the flag stay lost?
There was a commotion at the front of Steam, and the crowd parted. Eight Rosewood Day lacrosse boys strutted by in a cocky, confident herd. Mike Montgomery was wedged between Noel Kahn and James Freed.
Riley jostled Kate’s arm, making the gold bangle bracelets around Kate’s wrist jingle. “There he is.”
“You should totally go talk to him,” Naomi murmured, her blue eyes widening. At that, the three of them stood up and strolled over. Naomi ogled Noel. Riley tossed her long red hair at Mason. Now that lax boys were permitted, it was a free-for-all.
“Rosewood Day is really picky about people drawing inappropriate stuff on the Time Capsule flag,” Mike was saying to his friends
. “But if the lax team found every single piece and made one huge inappropriate drawing—of like, a penis—Appleton wouldn’t be able to do a thing. He wouldn’t even know it was a penis until he unveiled the flag at the assembly.”
Noel Kahn slapped him on the back. “Nice. I can’t wait for the look on Appleton’s face.”
Mike pantomimed Principal Appleton, who was getting up there in years, shakily unfolding the reconstructed flag for the school to see. “Now, what’s this?” he said in a craggy old-man voice, holding an invisible magnifying glass to his eye. “Is this what you young whippersnappers call…a schlong?”
Kate burst out laughing. Hanna glanced at her, astonished. There was no way Kate could honestly think these cretins were funny. Mike noticed her laughing and smiled.
“That imitation of Appleton is perfect,” Kate cooed. Hanna clenched her jaw. As if Kate had even met Principal Appleton yet. She’d only been a Rosewood Day student for a week.
“Thanks,” Mike said, running his eyes up and down Kate’s body, from her boots to her slender legs to her Rosewood Day blazer, which fit Kate’s willowy frame perfectly. Hanna noted with annoyance that Mike didn’t look at her once. “I do a pretty good impression of Lance the shop teacher, too.”
“I’d love to hear it sometime,” Kate gushed.
Hanna gritted her teeth. That was it. There was no way her soon-to-be stepsister was snagging the guy who was supposed to worship her. She marched over to the boys, nudged Kate out of the way, and ran her fingers over the Time Capsule flag she had just found.
“I couldn’t help but overhear your brilliant idea,” Hanna said loudly, “but I’m sorry to say your schlong is going to be incomplete.” She waved her flag under Mike’s nose.
Mike’s eyes widened. He reached out for it, but Hanna yanked it away. Mike stuck out his bottom lip. “Come on. What’ll it take for you to give that piece to me?”
Hanna had to hand it to him—most sophomore guys were so nervous in Hanna’s presence, they started quivering and stuttering. She pressed the flag to her chest. “I’m not letting this baby out of my sight.”
Sara Shepard - [Pretty Little Liar 06] - Killer (mobi).mobi Page 6
