As soon as they’d begun receiving notes from New A—on the anniversary of the horrible fire in the Poconos that had almost killed all of them—Emily was sure that Real Ali had survived the fire in the Poconos and the push off the balcony in Jamaica and was back for revenge. Her friends slowly began to believe that as well—until the news came out about Tabitha’s true identity. But even that didn’t rule out the possibility that Real Ali was still alive. She still could be New A and know everything.
Emily knew what her old friends would say if she voiced such a theory: Get over it, Em. Ali’s gone. More than likely they’d reverted back to their old assumption that Ali had perished inside the burning house in the Poconos. But there was something all of them didn’t know: Emily had left the front door unlatched and ajar for Ali before the house exploded. She could have easily escaped.
“Emily?” Mrs. Fields called out. “Can you come downstairs?”
Emily sat up fast. “I have to go,” she told Aria. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
She hung up the phone, crossed to the bedroom door, and looked over the railing. Her parents, still dressed in the matching gray sweat suits they wore for their evening power walks around the neighborhood, stood in the foyer. A tall, freckled girl with reddish-blond hair just like Emily’s was next to them, a bulging duffel over her shoulder that said UNIVERSITY OF ARIZONA SWIMMING in big red letters.
“Beth?” Emily squinted.
Emily’s older sister, Beth, craned her neck up and spread her arms wide. “Ta-da!”
Emily raced down the stairs. “What are you doing here?” she cried. Her sister rarely visited Rosewood. Her job as a teaching assistant at the University of Arizona, where she’d gone to college, kept her busy, and she was also assistant-coaching the U of A swim team, of which she’d been captain her senior year.
Beth dropped the duffel to the hardwood floor. “I had a couple days off, and Southwest was running a special. I thought I’d surprise you.” She looked Emily up and down and made a face. “That’s an interesting outfit.”
Emily stared down at herself. She was wearing a stained T-shirt from a swimming relay carnival and a pair of too-small Victoria’s Secret sweatpants with the word PINK written across the butt. The pants had been Ali’s—her Ali’s, the girl who was actually Courtney, whom Emily had confided in, giggled with, and adored in sixth and seventh grades. Even though the sweats were fraying at the hems and had long ago lost the string that cinched the waist, they’d become Emily’s go-to after-school uniform in the past two weeks. For some reason, she felt that as long as she had them on, nothing bad would happen to her.
“Dinner’s about ready.” Mrs. Fields turned on her heel toward the kitchen. “Come on, girls.”
Everyone followed her down the hall. Comforting smells of tomato sauce and garlic swirled through the air. The kitchen table had been set for four, and Emily’s mother scuttled to the oven as the timer started to beep. Beth sat down next to Emily and took a long, slow sip of water from a Kermit the Frog tumbler that had been Beth’s special glass since she was little. She had the same freckles across her cheeks and strong swimmer’s body as Emily did, but her reddish-blondish hair was cut in a choppy bob below her ears, and she wore a small silver hoop earring at the top of her earlobe. Emily wondered if it had hurt to get it done. She also wondered what Mrs. Fields would say when she noticed it—she didn’t like her children looking “inappropriate,” piercing their noses or navels, dyeing their hair weird colors, or getting tattoos. But Beth was twenty-four; maybe she was beyond her mother’s jurisdiction.
“So how are you?” Beth folded her hands on the table and looked at Emily. “It feels like ages since we’ve seen each other.”
“You should come home more often,” Mrs. Fields chirped pointedly from the counter.
Emily studied her chipped nails, most of which were bitten down to the quick. She couldn’t think of a single innocuous thing to tell Beth—everything in her life was tainted with strife.
“I heard you spent the summer with Carolyn in Philly,” Beth prompted.
“Uh, yeah,” Emily answered, balling up a chicken-print napkin. The summer was the last thing she wanted to talk about right now.
“Yes, Emily’s wild summer in the city,” Mrs. Fields said in a half-touchy, half-joking voice as she placed a ceramic dish of lasagna on the table. “I don’t remember you taking a summer off from swimming, Beth.”
“Well, it’s all water under the bridge.” Mr. Fields sat down at his regular seat and grabbed a piece of garlic bread from the basket. “Emily’s all set for next year.”
“That’s right, I heard!” Beth punched Emily playfully on the shoulder. “A swim scholarship to UNC! Are you psyched?”
Emily felt her family’s gaze and swallowed a huge lump in her throat. “Really psyched.”
She knew she should be happy about the swim scholarship, but she’d lost a friend, Chloe Roland, because of it—Chloe had assumed Emily was hooking up with her well-connected father in order to score a spot on UNC’s squad, but the truth was that Mr. Roland had come on to her, and she’d done everything she could to avoid him. There was also a part of Emily that wondered if she’d even get to go to UNC next year. What if A told the police about what they did to Tabitha? Would she be in jail by the time freshman year started?
Everyone worked their way through the lasagna, their forks scraping against the plates. Beth started talking about a tree-planting charity group she was working with in Arizona. Mr. Fields complimented his wife on the sautéed spinach. Mrs. Fields chattered about a new family she’d visited as part of the Rosewood Welcome Wagon committee. Emily smiled and nodded and asked her family questions, but she couldn’t bring herself to contribute much to the conversation. She couldn’t manage more than a few forkfuls of lasagna, either, even though it was one of her favorite dinners.
After dessert, Beth jumped up and insisted she’d do the dishes. “Wanna help, Em?”