“Watch out for rat tails in your wineglasses,” Hanna yelled after them. But the girls didn’t turn, traipsing into the courtyard, linking elbows and laughing. Hanna watched them for a moment, her cheeks blazing with fury, and then turned back to Dot, took a few deep breaths, and wrapped her cashmere poncho around her shoulders.
Kate might have won the queen bee battle today, but the war was far from over. She was the fabulous Hanna Marin, after all. That silly little bitch had no idea who she was dealing with.
5
TAKE A CHANCE ON ME
Early Monday evening, Spencer and Andrew Campbell sat in her family’s sunroom, their AP econ notes spread before them. A lock of Andrew’s long blond hair fell into his eyes as he leaned over the textbook and pointed to a drawing of a man. “This is Alfred Marshall.” He covered up the paragraph under his picture. “Quick. What was his philosophy?”
Spencer pressed her fingers to her temples. She could add columns of numbers in her head and supply seven synonyms for the word assiduous, but when it came to AP econ, her brain went…mushy. But she had to learn this. Her teacher, Mr. McAdam, said Spencer would be out of his class unless she aced this semester—he was still pissed that she’d stolen her older sister’s AP econ paper and hadn’t confessed to it until after she’d won the prestigious Golden Orchid essay prize. So now Andrew, who did naturally get econ, was her tutor.
Suddenly, Spencer brightened. “The theory of supply and demand,” she recited.
“Very good.” Andrew beamed. He flipped a page of the book, his fingers accidentally brushing against hers. Spencer’s heart quickened, but then Andrew pulled away fast.
Spencer had never been so confused. The house was empty right now—Spencer’s parents and her sister, Melissa, had all gone out to dinner, not inviting Spencer along, as usual—which meant Andrew could make a move if he wanted. He’d certainly seemed interested in kissing her Saturday night at the Rosewood Day benefit, but since then…nothing. True, Spencer had been preoccupied with Ian’s Disappearing Body late on Saturday, and on Sunday she’d made a quick trip to Florida to attend her grandmother’s funeral. She and Andrew had been friendly in class today, but Andrew didn’t mention what had happened at the party, and Spencer certainly wasn’t going to bring it up first. Spencer had been so anxious before Andrew came over that she’d dusted every one of her trophies for spelling bees, drama club, and field hockey MVPs just for something to do. Maybe Saturday’s kiss had been just a kiss, nothing more. And anyway, Andrew had been her nemesis for years—they’d been competing for the top spot in the class ever since their kindergarten teacher held a contest to see who could make the best paper bag puppet. She couldn’t seriously like him.
But she wasn’t fooling anyone.
A bright light shone through the sunroom’s floor-to-ceiling windows, and Spencer jumped. When Spencer returned from Florida last night, there were four media vans on her front lawn and a camera crew near the family’s converted barn apartment at the back of the property. Now, a police officer and a German shepherd from the K-9 unit were prowling around the pine trees at the corner of the lot with an enormous flashlight, puzzling over something. Spencer had a feeling they’d found the bag of Ali memories the girls’ grief counselor, Marion, had urged them to bury last week. A reporter would probably ring her doorbell any minute, asking her what the objects meant.
A fearful, nervous feeling throbbed deep in her bones. Last night, she hadn’t been able to sleep a wink, terrified that not one but two people had now died in the woods behind her house, just steps from her bedroom. Every time she heard a twig snap or a whoosh of the wind, she sat up in horror, certain Ian’s killer was still roaming the woods. She couldn’t help but think that the murderer had killed him because he’d gotten too close to the truth. What if Spencer was too close to the truth too, simply from the vague hints that Ian had given her when they talked on the porch—that the cops were covering something up and that there was an even bigger secret about Ali’s murder that all of Rosewood had yet to uncover?
Andrew cleared his throat, gesturing to Spencer’s nails, which were digging into the surface of the desk. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh,” Spencer snapped. “I’m fine.”
Andrew pointed to the cops out the window. “Think of it this way. At least you have twenty-four-hour police protection.”
Spencer swallowed hard. That was probably a good thing—Spencer needed all the protection she could get. She glanced at her econ notes, shoving her fears down deep. “Back to studying?”
“Of course,” Andrew said, suddenly businesslike. He turned to his notes.
Spencer felt a mix of disappointment and apprehension. “Or we don’t have to study,” she blurted, hoping Andrew got her drift.
Andrew paused. “I don’t want to study.” His voice cracked.
Spencer touched his hand. Slowly, he inched toward her. She moved closer too. After a few long moments, their lips touched. It was a thrilling relief. She wrapped her arms around Andrew. He smelled like a mix of a woodstove and the pineapple-shaped, citrus-smelling air freshener that dangled from the rearview mirror of his Mini Cooper. They broke apart, then kissed again, longer this time. Spencer’s heart thudded fast.
Then, Spencer’s phone let out a loud ping. As she reached for it, her heart sped up, worried it was from A. But the e-mail was titled News About Your Mom Match!
“Oh my God,” Spencer whispered.