She reached out for her mother’s arm. “I’m sorry—”
Her mother slid her body away. “Spencer, don’t.”
Spencer couldn’t manage to swallow her sob. Tears started running down her cheeks.
“It’s not me you need to apologize to, anyway,” her mother said in a low voice.
Spencer looked at Melissa, sniveling across the table. She wiped her nose. As much as she hated Melissa, she’d never seen her sister this miserable—not since Ian broke up with her back in high school. It was wrong to flirt with Wren, but Spencer hadn’t thought it would go as far as it did. She tried to put herself in Melissa’s place—if she’d met Wren first, and Melissa had kissed him, she’d be shattered too. Her heart softened. “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
Melissa shuddered. “Rot in hell,” she spat.
Spencer bit the inside of her mouth so hard she tasted blood.
“Just get your things out of the barn.” Her mother sighed. “Then get out of our sight.”
Spencer’s eyes widened. “But—” she squeaked.
Her father gave her a withering look.
“It’s just so despicable,” her mother murmured.
“You’re such a bitch,” Melissa threw in.
Spencer nodded—perhaps if she agreed with them, they would stop. She wanted to shrivel up into a tiny ball and evaporate. Instead, she mumbled, “I’ll go do it now.”
“Good.” Her father took another sip of coffee and left the table.
Melissa made a small squeak and pushed back her chair. She sobbed the whole way up the stairs and slammed her bedroom door.
“Wren left last night,” Mr. Hastings said as he paused in the doorway. “We won’t be hearing from him, ever again. And if you know what’s best for you, you won’t talk about him ever again.”
“Of course,” Spencer mumbled, and set her head down on the cool oak table.
“Good.”
Spencer kept her head firmly on the table, breathing yoga fire breaths and waiting for someone to come back and tell her that everything would be okay. Nobody did. Outside, she heard an ambulance siren screaming in the distance. It sounded like it was coming toward the house.
Spencer sat up. Oh God. What if Melissa had…hurt herself? She wouldn’t, would she? The sirens howled, coming closer. Spencer shoved back her chair.
Holy shit. What had she done?
“Melissa!” she yelled, running to the stairs.
“You’re a whore!” came a voice. “You’re a f**king whore!”
Spencer slumped back against the railing. Well, then. It seemed Melissa was just fine, after all.
30
THE CIRCUS IS BACK IN TOWN
Emily biked furiously away from Aria’s house, narrowly missing a jogger on the side of the road. “Watch it!” he yelled.
As she passed a neighbor walking two huge Great Danes, Emily made a decision. She had to go to Maya’s. It was the only answer. Maybe Maya had meant it in a nice way, like she was just returning the note after Emily told her about Alison last night. Maybe Maya wanted to mention the letter last night but, for whatever reason, she didn’t. Maybe the A was really an M?
Besides, she and Maya had tons of other stuff to talk about—besides the note. Try everything that happened at the party. Emily closed her eyes, remembering. She could practically smell Maya’s banana gum and feel the soft contours of her mouth. Opening her eyes, she swerved away from the curb.
Okay, they definitely needed to work that out. But what did Emily want to say?
I loved it.
No. Of course she wouldn’t say that. She would say, We should just be friends. She was going back to Ben, after all. If he’d have her. She wanted to rewind time, to go back to being the Emily who was happy with her life, who her parents were happy with. The Emily who only worried about her br**ststroke reach and her algebra homework.
Emily pedaled past Myer Park, where she and Ali used to swing for hours. They tried to pump together in unison, and when they were completely even, Ali always called out, “We’re married!” Then they’d squeal and jump off at the same time.
But what if Maya hadn’t put that note on her bike? When Emily asked Aria if Ali had told her Emily’s secret, Aria had replied, “What, recently?” Why would Aria say that? Unless…unless Aria knew something. Unless Ali was back.
Was that possible?
Emily skidded through the gravel. No, that was crazy. Her mother still exchanged holiday cards with Mrs. DiLaurentis; she would’ve heard if Ali had returned. Back when Ali vanished, it was on the news 24/7. These days, her parents usually had on CNN while they ate breakfast. It would surely be a top story again.
Still, it was thrilling to consider. Every night for almost a year after Ali’s disappearance, Emily had asked her Magic 8 Ball if Alison would come back. Although it sometimes said, Wait and see, it never, ever said, No. She made bets with herself, too: If two kids get on the school bus today wearing red shirts, she would whisper to herself, Ali is okay. If they’re serving pizza at lunch, Ali’s not dead. If Coach makes us practice starts and turns, Ali will come back. Nine times out of ten, according to Emily’s little superstitions, Ali was on her way back to them.
Maybe she’d been right all along.
She pumped uphill and around a sharp turn, narrowly avoiding a stone Revolutionary War battle memorial sign. If Ali was back, what would that mean for Emily’s friendship with Maya? She sort of doubted she could have two best friends…two best friends she felt so similarly about. She wondered what Ali would even think of Maya. What if they hated each other?