“If that happens, you can blame us for everything,” Spencer said. “We’ll do everything in our power to get Noel back for you, okay? But can you please do a little more digging?”
“None of us want it to be Noel,” Emily added. “We’re not against you.”
Aria stood up from the couch. Her eyes were flinty and cold. “Fine,” she said gruffly. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not going to find anything, believe me.”
She whipped around, turned the handle of the panic room, and left. Emily heard her footsteps on the basement stairs and felt a twinge of regret. The last thing she wanted to do was pull their friendship apart. What if Aria was right—what if suspecting Noel, wrecking everything, was just part of A’s master plan?
Then Spencer touched her arm. “Try to get something out of Iris soon, okay?”
Emily nodded. “I will.”
Then she headed out of the house, across the driveway, and climbed into her car. Thankfully, Iris was still sitting in the passenger seat, flipping through Us. Emily slid the key in the ignition and started the engine.
“How’s your sick friend?” Iris asked without looking up from the magazine.
“What?” Emily snapped her head up. Then she remembered the lie she told. “Oh. Uh, feeling much better!”
Iris slapped the magazine closed and gave Emily a knowing look. “God, Emily. If you’re going to lie, at least do a better job.”
“I’m not lying,” Emily said quickly.
Iris waited a beat. When Emily didn’t say anything more, she tossed Emily her cell phone, which was sitting in the center console. “This beeped while you were out,” she said woodenly.
Ice ran through Emily’s veins. She peeked at the screen. There was a new message for her on Twitter. Her mouth dropped open as she read the words. THOUGH I CAN’T BE THERE WITH YOU IN PERSON, I’LL BE THERE IN SPIRIT, an unfamiliar Twitter handle had written to her. I’M GOING TO SEND YOU A SECRET MESSAGE, MY LOVE. BE READY AT 10 PM!
“Is that from the girl you’re into?” Iris asked, still staring straight ahead.
Emily knew she should be annoyed that Iris was snooping, but she was so thrilled she let it slide. “I think so!” she whooped. “I can’t wait for prom now!”
Iris’s neck twisted around so she was facing Emily. Her eyebrows furrowed. “Who says you’re going to prom?” She tilted her chin. “If you want answers from me, then we’re sticking to my schedule. My list. No balls for you, Cinderella.”
Emily blinked hard. “But . . . I thought maybe . . . I mean, this is important. I thought you’d understand. As, you know, a friend.” As soon as she said it, she realized she meant it. They sort of had become friends, in a weird way.
Iris crossed her arms over her chest, a look of hurt passing across her face. “Friends don’t lie, Emily.”
Emily stared at her. Iris looked genuinely shattered—over such a small lie. Then again, maybe it wasn’t small to her. Emily suddenly wondered how many friends someone like Iris could have made in The Preserve. Probably not many.
She opened her mouth, wishing she could tell Iris the truth, but then reality slammed back. She swallowed the thought and stared out the windshield. “Okay,” she said quietly. “Your list it is.”
19
Aria Opens Up
After school that day, Aria climbed the stairs in her house holding a lacquered tray her father had brought back from a trip to China. On it were two plates of fried tofu spring rolls that she’d specially made for her and Noel. She’d garnished each dish with basil, green onions, soy sauce, and even two red roses she’d plucked from her mother’s vase in the kitchen. Ella’s boyfriend, an artist named Francis who was on a month-long trip to Berlin, had sent them to her, but he sent her roses all the time, so Aria figured Ella wouldn’t miss a couple.
She kicked open the door to find Noel splayed on her bed, reading ESPN magazine. “Dinner is served,” she chirped in a faux French accent. “I think I even got the wraps right.” They’d learned to make them in a cooking class they’d taken together.
Noel smiled at the steaming food. “This smells way better than when we made it in class. Have you been practicing?”
Aria propped up a fringed pillow against the headboard. “Maybe a little . . . for you.” She touched his hand. “We haven’t seen each other much lately. And the last time was so . . . weird.”
It was hard to spit the word out. Weird didn’t begin to describe her Ali-terrogation. Since she wasn’t texting or calling, she and Noel had barely spoken in the past few days. Aria hadn’t realized how much they relied on technology to communicate.
But maybe it was good: She needed some space to clear her mind. Though she’d never admit it to her friends, there were a few other things about Noel she couldn’t get out of her head. Like how Noel’s house was filled with pictures of the family at the picnic grounds at Keppler Creek—Mr. Kahn said the fishing there was the best in the state. Noel had gone hiking and fishing there with his brothers a few times last winter, spring, and summer. Some of the trips had been before Real Ali reappeared, some of them after. He’d never invited Aria, and she’d thought nothing of it. Should she have?
Noel popped a spring roll into his mouth and swooned. “You can even make tofu taste awesome.”
“That’s one reason to keep me around,” Aria teased, trying to make her voice sound carefree.
“I can think of a few other reasons, too.” Noel set his plate on the end table, grabbed her around the waist, and pulled her on top of him. “The only tastier thing than this dinner is you.”