Ali shrugged. “Depends what the question is.”
Jason took a big swallow from his water bottle. “I know Courtney was in the bathroom with you before we left the hospital. Did she say anything?”
The smile melted off Ali’s face. She didn’t think anyone had seen Courtney go into the bathroom. When she’d emerged, the hall had been empty—Jason and the others had been waiting in the lobby. Was it possible that he’d heard what her twin had said?
“I saw her come out after you,” Jason said, as if reading her mind. “Was everything okay?”
Ali flicked the string bracelet on her wrist. “It was fine. We just talked about stupid stuff.”
“Are you sure?”
Ali blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”
“I don’t know.” Jason raised his hands defensively. “I’m just asking.”
Ali licked her lips and considered telling him how the real Ali had threatened her, but then her words echoed in her mind. Please don’t lock me up again, she’d said, basically admitting everything she’d done.
Jason stopped at a crosswalk to let students pass. “Do you think Courtney seems different?”
Ali flinched. “Different how?”
“Happier, I guess. Not herself.”
There was a sizzling feeling in the pit of Ali’s stomach. “Does anyone know who Courtney really is? She’s crazy.”
“I know who she is.”
No, you don’t, Ali thought with a flare of anger. You don’t know anything.
Jason pulled into a parking space in front of Kinko’s. “I know you’ve never understood why I visited her all those years at the Radley,” he said quietly. “I just thought she needed someone in her corner, you know?”
“So why did you stop visiting her at the Preserve?” It was a question Ali had never asked him.
Jason ran his finger over the silver BMW keychain. “I didn’t mean to stop visiting her at first. I was just swamped with schoolwork and couldn’t make the time. The times I did visit her, though, she seemed so . . . strange.” He swallowed hard, then glanced at her. “She told me some weird things about you.”
Ali’s stomach tightened. “She’s a jealous, crazy bitch.”
Jason didn’t look convinced. “For a while, I thought some of the things she told me were true.”
Ali tried hard to keep her hands from trembling. “She’s lying.”
Jason opened his mouth, then closed it again. He stared at her hard, as though trying to memorize every freckle, every eyelash on her face. “Do you ever wish you could go back and change what you did?”
The words hit Ali like an icicle through the heart. What you did. But he meant what Ali did . . . to Courtney. Right? Not the switch. “I didn’t do anything,” she snapped.
Jason kept his eyes on the road. “We all did things we could have done differently. We could have helped her. Been more of a family.”
“That’s not how I see it,” Ali said sharply. “She’s crazy. She needs to be locked up. End of story.”
Jason bit his bottom lip and didn’t say anything. After a moment, he got out of the car and slouched into Kinko’s. Ali watched the door open and shut, her stomach turning over. The walls seemed to close in on her inside the car, and she suddenly felt squeezed into a seat that could no longer contain her.
She fumbled for the door handle and staggered onto the street. Cars and trucks whizzed past the busy thoroughfare. Students rushed by holding Starbucks coffee cups and textbooks. The clock tower let out four bongs. Ali took a few careful steps down the sidewalk, trying to find her balance again.
She walked to the end of the block and studied the skater-logo stickers someone had plastered to a stop sign. Then, a lilting giggle sounded from around the corner. Ali turned and cocked her ear. There it was again. It was coming from the alley.
She poked her head into the narrow strip of road between two university buildings. THESE SPACES RESERVED FOR ART HISTORY DEPARTMENT FACULTY ONLY read a placard in front of a parking spot. A Subaru was in the lot, its window cracked, two people inside. One of them had a blond ponytail and an earnest, college-girl smile. The other, the driver, had a craggy face and wild, professor-style hair.
Ali straightened up, recognizing the familiar PLANNED PARENTHOOD and VISUALIZE WHIRLED PEAS stickers on the Subaru’s bumper. There was that dent in the fender, too, the one Aria’s mom had made when she’d run over a decorative boulder in Ali’s front yard.
It was Aria’s dad who was in that car. But the other, the ponytail girl, was definitely not his wife.
“I love these after-class study sessions,” he was saying.
“Me, too,” the girl said, then pouted. “But I hate having to squeeze them into Tuesdays at four.”
Mr. Montgomery touched her cheek. “This is the only time we’re both around.”
The girl sighed. “I know, I know, but . . .”
Mr. Montgomery put his finger to his lips to silence her. Then he cupped her chin and brought her face toward his. Ali crept behind the brick wall as Aria’s father ran his hands through the girl’s hair. The girl pulled Aria’s dad closer and kissed his neck.
“Ali?”
The two heads shot apart. Ali whirled around. Jason stood behind her, a plastic Kinko’s bag in his hand. “You ready?” he asked.
Ali blinked hard. There was a rumbling sound behind her. “Uh . . . ,” she said, poking her head back into the alley.
But it was empty now. All that remained was a cloud of exhaust, like Mr. Montgomery’s car—and what he’d done inside it—had never been there at all.