SOMEONE DIDN’T LISTEN
During the break at the Rosewood Day–Drury Academy swim meet, Emily opened her team locker and pulled down the straps of her Speedo Fastskin racing suit. This year, the Rosewood Day swim team had splurged on full-body, drag-free, Olympian-caliber swimsuits. They’d had to special-order them, and they’d just arrived in time for today’s meet. The suits tapered to the ankles, clung to every inch of skin, and showed every bulge, reminding Emily of the photo in her bio textbook of a boa constrictor digesting a mouse. Emily grinned at Lanie Iler, her teammate. “I’m so happy to be getting out of this thing.”
She was also happy she’d decided to tell Officer Wilden about A. Last night, after Emily returned home from Hanna’s house, she’d called and arranged to meet Wilden at the Rosewood police station later tonight. Emily didn’t care what the others said or thought about A’s threat—with the police involved, they could put this drama behind them forever.
“You’re so lucky you’re done,” Lanie responded. Emily had already swum—and won—all of her events; now the only thing she had left to do was cheer along with the zillions of other Rosewood students who had showed up for the meet. She could hear the cheerleaders screaming from the locker room and hoped they wouldn’t slip on the natatorium’s wet tiled floor—Tracey Reid had taken a spill before the first event.
“Hey, girls.” Coach Lauren strode down their aisle of lockers. Today, as usual, Lauren was wearing one of her inspirational swimming T-shirts: TOP TEN REASONS I SWIM. (Number five: BECAUSE I CAN EAT 5,000 CALORIES AND NOT FEEL GUILTY.) She clapped a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Great job, Em. Pulling ahead in the medley relay like that? Fantastic!”
“Thanks.” Emily blushed.
Lauren leaned over the chipped red bench in the middle of the aisle. “There’s a local recruiter from the University of Arizona here,” she said in a low voice, only to Emily. “She asked if she could speak to you during the second half. That okay?”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Of course!” The University of Arizona was one of the best swimming schools in the country.
“Great. You guys can talk in my office, if you want.” Lauren gave Emily another smile. She disappeared toward the hall that led to the natatorium, and Emily followed. She passed her sister Carolyn, who was coming from the other direction.
“Carolyn, guess what!” Emily bounced up and down.
“A University of Arizona recruiter wants to talk to me! If I went there and you went to Stanford, we’d be close!” Carolyn was graduating this year and had already been recruited by Stanford’s swim team.
Carolyn glanced at Emily and disappeared into a bathroom stall, shutting the door behind her with a slam. Emily backed away, feeling stunned. What just happened? She and her sister weren’t super-close, but she’d expected a little more enthusiasm than that.
As Emily walked toward the hall that led to the pool, Gemma Curran’s face peeped at her from the showers. When Emily met her eyes, Gemma snapped the curtain closed. And as she walked by the sinks, Amanda Williamson was whispering to Jade Smythe. When Emily met their eyes in the mirror, their mouths made small, startled O’s. Emily felt goose bumps rise to the surface of her skin. What was going on?
“God, it seems like even more people are here now!” Lanie murmured, walking into the natatorium behind Emily. And she was right: the stands seemed more packed than during the first half. The band, set up near the diving well, was playing a fight song, and the foamy gray Hammerhead mascot had joined the cheerleaders in front of the stands. Everyone was in the stands—the popular kids, the soccer boys, the drama club girls, even her teachers. Spencer Hastings sat next to Kirsten Cullen. Maya was up there, typing furiously into her cell phone, and Hanna Marin sat near her, all alone and gazing out into the crowd. And there were Emily’s parents, dressed up in their blue-and-white Rosewood Swimming sweatshirts decorated with GO EMILY and GO CAROLYN buttons. Emily tried to wave to them, but they were too busy studying a piece of paper, probably the heat sheet. Actually, a lot of people were looking at the heat sheet. Mr. Shay, the geezerish biology teacher who always watched practice because he’d been a swimmer about a thousand years ago, held a copy about three inches from his face. The heat sheet wasn’t that interesting—it just listed the order of events.
James Freed stepped in Emily’s path. His mouth stretched into a broad grin. “Hey, Emily,” he said leeringly. “I had no idea.”
Emily frowned. “No idea…what?”
Aria’s brother, Mike, sauntered up next to James. “Hi, Emily.”
Mona Vanderwaal came up behind the two boys. “Stop bothering her, you two.” She turned to Emily. “Ignore them. I want to invite you to something.” She dug through her giant butterscotch suede satchel and handed Emily a white envelope. Emily turned it over in her hands. Whatever this was, Mona had scented it with something expensive. Emily glanced up, confused.
“I’m having a birthday party on Saturday,” Mona explained, twisting a long piece of white-blond hair around her fingers. “Maybe I’ll see you?”
“You should totally come,” Mike agreed, widening his eyes.
“I…” Emily stammered. But before she could say anything more, the band struck up another fight song and Mona skipped away.
Emily looked at the invite again. What on earth was that all about? She wasn’t the type of girl who got hand-delivered invitations from Mona Vanderwaal. And she certainly wasn’t the type who got salacious looks from boys.