Mrs. Fields dragged her to the little gate that led from the courtyard to a back alley that led to the street. “I’m calling Helene when we get home.”

“No!” Emily broke free, then faced her mother halfway hunched over, the way a sumo wrestler squares off when he’s about to fight. “How can you say I’m not your daughter?” she screeched. “How can you send me away?”

Mrs. Fields reached for Emily’s arm again, but Emily’s sneakers caught on an uneven divot in the grass. She fell backward, hitting the ground on her tailbone, experiencing a white, blinding flash of pain.

When she opened her eyes, her mother was above her. “Get up. Let’s go.”

“No!” Emily bellowed. She tried to get up, but her mother’s nails pierced her arm. Emily struggled but knew it was hopeless. She glanced once more at Maya, who still hadn’t moved. Maya’s eyes were huge and watery, and she looked tiny and alone. I might never see her again, Emily thought. This might be it.

“What’s so wrong with it?” she screamed at her mother. “What’s so wrong with being different? How can you hate me for that?”

Her mother’s nostrils flared. She balled up her fists and opened her mouth, ready to scream something back. And then, suddenly, she seemed to deflate. She turned away and made a small noise at the back of her throat. All at once, she looked so spent. And scared. And ashamed. Without any makeup on and in her pajamas, she seemed vulnerable. There was a redness around her eyes, as if she had been crying for a long time. “Please. Let’s just go.”

Emily didn’t know what else to do but get up. She followed her mother down the dark, deserted alley and into a parking lot, where Emily saw their familiar Volvo. The parking lot attendant met her mother’s eyes and gave Emily a judging sneer, as if Mrs. Fields had explained why she was parking here and retrieving Emily from the party.

Emily threw herself in the front seat. Her eyes landed on the Dial-a-Horoscope laminated wheel that was in the car’s seat pocket. The wheel foretold every sign’s horoscopes for all the twelve months of this year, so Emily pulled it out, spun the wheel to Taurus, her sign, and looked at October’s predictions. Your love relationships will become more fulfilling and satisfying. Your relationships may have caused difficulties with others in the past, but all will be smooth sailing from now on.

Ha, Emily thought. She hurled the horoscope card out the window. She didn’t believe in horoscopes anymore. Or tarot cards. Or signs or signals or anything else that said things happened for a reason. What was the reason this was happening?

A chill went through her. I get a call fifteen minutes ago saying you’re with her.

She dug through her bag, her heart pounding. Her phone had one new message. It had been in her inbox for nearly two hours.

Em, I see you! And if you don’t stop it, I’m calling you-know-who.

—A

Emily put her hands over her eyes. Why didn’t A just kill her instead?

33

SOMEONE SLIPS UP. BIG TIME.

First, Lucas gave Hanna a shrunken Rosewood Day sweatshirt and a pair of red gym shorts from his car. “An Eagle Scout is always prepared for anything,” he proclaimed.

Second, he led Hanna to the Hollis College Reading Room so she could change. It was a few streets over from the planetarium. The reading room was simply that—a big room in a nineteenth-century house completely devoted to chilling out and reading. It smelled like pipe smoke and old leather bookbindings and was filled with all sorts of books, maps, globes, encyclopedias, magazines, newspapers, chessboards, leather couches, and cozy love seats for two. Technically, it was only open to college students and faculty, but it was easy enough to jimmy your way in the side door.

Hanna went into the tiny bathroom, removed her ripped dress, and threw it into the little chrome trash can, stuffing it in so it would fit. She slumped out of the bathroom, threw herself on the couch next to Lucas, and just…lost it. Sobs that had been pent up inside of her for weeks—maybe even years—exploded out of her. “No one will like me anymore,” she said chokingly, between sobs. “And I’ve lost Mona forever.”

Lucas rubbed her hair. “It’s all right. She doesn’t deserve you anyway.”

Hanna cried until her eyes swelled and her throat stung. Finally, she pressed her head into Lucas’s chest, which was more solid than it looked. They lay there in silence for a while. Lucas ran his fingers through her hair.

“What made you come to her party?” she asked after a while. “I thought you weren’t invited.”

“I was invited.” Lucas lowered his eyes. “But…I wasn’t going to go. I didn’t want you to feel bad, and I wanted to spend the night with you.”

Little sparkles of giddiness snapped through her stomach. “I’m so sorry,” she said quietly. “Bagging our poker game at the last minute like that, for Mona’s stupid party.”

“It’s okay,” Lucas said. “It doesn’t matter.”

Hanna stared at Lucas. He had such soft blue eyes and adorably pink cheeks. It did matter to her, a lot. She was so consumed with doing the perfect thing all the time—wearing the perfect outfit, picking out the perfect ringtone, keeping her body in perfect shape, having the perfect best friend and the perfect boyfriend—but what was all that perfection for? Maybe Lucas was perfect, just in a different way. He cared about her.

Hanna didn’t quite know how it had happened, but they’d settled in on one of the cracked-leather love seats, and she was on Lucas’s lap. Strangely, she didn’t feel self-conscious that she was breaking Lucas’s legs. Last summer, to prepare for her trip with Sean’s family to Cape Cod, Hanna had eaten nothing but grapefruit and cayenne pepper, and she hadn’t let Sean touch her when she was wearing her bathing suit, afraid he’d find her Jell-O-ish. With Lucas, she didn’t worry.

Her face moved closer to Lucas’s. His face moved closer to hers. She felt his lips touch her chin, then the side of her mouth, then her mouth itself. Her heart pounded. His lips whispered across hers. He pulled her toward him. Hanna’s heart was beating so fast and excitedly, she was afraid it would burst. Lucas cradled Hanna’s head in his hands and kissed her ears. Hanna giggled.

“What?” Lucas said, pulling away.

“Nothing,” Hanna answered, grinning. “I don’t know. This is fun.”

It was fun—nothing like the serious, important make-out sessions she’d had with Sean, where she felt like a panel of judges was scoring each and every kiss. Lucas was sloppy, wet, and overly joyful, like a boy Labrador. Every so often, he’d grab her and squeeze. At one point, he started tickling her, making Hanna squeal and roll off the couch right onto the floor.

Eventually, they were lying on one of the couches, Lucas on top of her, his hands drifting up and down her bare stomach. He took off his shirt and pressed his chest against hers. After a while, they stopped and lay there, saying nothing. Hanna’s eyes grazed across all the books, chess sets, and busts of famous authors. Then, suddenly, she sat up.

Someone was looking in the window.

“Lucas!” She pointed to a dark shape moving toward the side door.

“Don’t panic,” Lucas said, easing off the couch and creeping toward the window. The bushes shook. A lock began to turn. Hanna clamped down on Lucas’s arm.

A was here.

“Lucas…”

“Shhh.” Another click. Somewhere, a lock was turning. Someone was coming in. Lucas cocked his head to listen. Now there were footsteps coming from the back hall. Hanna took a step backward. The floor creaked. The footsteps came closer.

“Hello?” Lucas grabbed his shirt and pulled it on backward. “Who’s there?”

No one answered. There were more creaks. A shadow slithered across the wall.

Hanna looked around and grabbed the largest thing she could find—a Farmer’s Almanac from 1972. Suddenly, a light flicked on. Hanna screamed and raised the almanac over her head. Standing before them was an older man with a beard. He wore small, wire-framed glasses and a corduroy jacket and held his hands over his head in surrender.

“I’m with the history department!” the old man sputtered. “I couldn’t sleep. I came here to read….” He looked at Hanna strangely. Hanna realized the neck of Lucas’s sweatshirt was pulled to the side, exposing her bare shoulder.

Hanna’s heart started to slow down. She put the book back on the table. “Sorry,” she said. “I thought—”

“We’d better go anyway.” Lucas sidestepped the old man and pulled Hanna out the side door. When they were next to the house’s iron front gate, he burst into giggles.

“Did you see that guy’s face?” he hooted. “He was terrified!”

Hanna tried to laugh along, but she felt too shaken. “We should go,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I want to go home.”

Lucas walked Hanna to the valet at Mona’s party. She gave the valet the ticket for her Prius, and when he brought it back, she made Lucas look all through it to make sure no one was hiding in the backseat. When she was safely inside with the door locked, Lucas tapped his hand against the window and mouthed that he’d call her tomorrow. Hanna watched him walk away, feeling both excited and horribly distracted.

She started down the planetarium’s spiral drive. Every twenty feet or so was a banner advertising the new exhibit.

THE BIG BANG, they all said. They showed a picture of the universe exploding.

When Hanna’s cell phone beeped, she jumped so violently, she nearly broke out of the seat belt. She pulled over into the bus lane and whipped her phone out of her bag with trembling fingers. She had a new text.

Oops, guess it wasn’t lipo! Don’t believe everything you hear!

—A

Hanna looked up. The street outside the planetarium was quiet. All the old houses were closed up tight, and there wasn’t a single person on the street. A breeze kicked up, making the flag on the porch of an old Victorian house flap and a jack-o’-lantern-shaped leaf bag on its front lawn flutter.

Hanna looked back down at the text. This was odd. A’s latest text wasn’t from caller unknown, as it usually was, but an actual number. And it was a 610 number—Rosewood’s area code.

The number seemed familiar, although Hanna never memorized anyone’s number—she’d gotten a cell in seventh grade and had since relied on speed dial. There was something about this number, though….

Hanna covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh my God,” she whispered. She thought about it another moment. Could it seriously be?

Suddenly, she knew exactly who A was.

34

IT’S RIGHT THERE IN FRONT OF YOU

“Another coffee?” A waitress who smelled like grilled cheese and had a very large mole on her chin hovered over Aria, waving a coffee carafe around.

Aria glanced at her nearly empty mug. Her parents would probably say this coffee was loaded with carcinogens, but what did they know? “Sure,” she answered.