Emily felt someone’s eyes on her. She glanced around through the whirling vines and bushes and saw Carolyn and a few other swim team girls sitting by the bougainvillea. Her sister glared right at them, a disgusted look on her face.
Emily leapt up from the bench. “Maya, go. Carolyn sees us.”
She took a few steps away, pretending to be fascinated by a planter of marigolds, but Maya didn’t move. “Hurry!” Emily hissed. “Get out of here!”
She felt Maya’s eyes on her. “I’m going to Mona’s party tomorrow,” she said in a low voice. “Are you going to be there or not?”
Emily shook her head, not meeting Maya’s eye. “I’m sorry. I need to change.”
Maya violently yanked up her green-and-white canvas tote. “You can’t change who you are. I’ve told you that a thousand times.”
“But maybe I can,” Emily answered. “And maybe I want to.”
Maya dropped Emily’s rose on the bench and stomped away. Emily watched her weave through the rows of planters past the foggy windows for the exit and wanted to cry. Her life was a horrible mess. Her old, simple life—the one she’d had before this school year started—seemed like it belonged to a different girl entirely.
Suddenly, she felt someone’s fingernails trace the back of her neck. A chill ran up her back, and she whirled around. It was only a tendril from another rosebush, its thorns fat and sharp, the roses plump. Then, Emily noticed something on one of the windows a few feet away. Her mouth fell open. There was writing in the condensation. I see you. Two wide-open, heavily lashed eyes were drawn next to the words. It was signed A.
Emily rushed to the writing to wipe it away with her sleeve. Had it been here all along? Why hadn’t she seen it? Then, something else struck her. Because of the greenhouse’s humidity, water only condensed on its inside walls, so whoever had written this had to be…inside.
Emily turned around, looking for some kind of tell-tale sign, but the only people glancing in her direction were Maya, Carolyn, and the lacrosse boys. Everyone else was milling around the greenhouse door, waiting for lunch period to end, and Emily couldn’t help but wonder if A was among them.
24
AND IN ANOTHER GARDEN ACROSS TOWN…
Friday afternoon, Spencer leaned over her mother’s flower bed, pulling out the thick, stubborn weeds. Her mother usually did the gardening herself, but Spencer was doing it in an attempt to be nice—and to absolve herself of something, although she wasn’t sure what.
The multicolored balloons her mother had bought a few days ago to celebrate the Golden Orchid were still tied to the patio rail. Congratulations, Spencer! they all said. Next to the words were pictures of blue ribbons and trophies. Spencer glanced into the balloons’ shiny Mylar fabric; her warped reflection stared back. It was like looking into a funhouse mirror—her face looked long instead of round, her eyes were small instead of large, and her button nose looked wide and enormous. Maybe it was this balloon girl, not Spencer, who’d cheated to become a Golden Orchid finalist. And maybe Balloon Girl had been the one who’d fought with Ali the night she disappeared, too.
The sprinkler system came on next door at the DiLaurentises’ old house. Spencer stared up at Ali’s old window. It was the last one at the back, directly across from Spencer’s. She and Ali had felt so lucky their rooms faced each other. They had window signals when it was past phone curfew—one blink of the flashlight meant, I can’t sleep, can you? Two blinks meant, Good night. Three meant, We need to sneak out and talk in person.
The memory from Dr. Evans’s office floated into her head again. Spencer tried to push it down, but it bobbed right back up. You care way too much, Ali had said. And that far-off crack. Where had it come from?
“Spencer!” a voice whispered. She whirled around, heart pounding. She faced the woods that bordered the back of her house. Ian Thomas stood between two dogwoods.
“What are you doing here?” she hissed, glancing toward the edge of the yard. Melissa’s barn was just a few hundred yards away.
“Watching my favorite girl.” Ian’s eyes grazed down her body.
“There’s a stalker running around,” Spencer warned him sternly, trying to suppress the hot, excited feeling in her stomach she always got when Ian looked at her. “You should be careful.”
Ian scoffed. “Who’s to say I’m not part of the neighborhood watch? Maybe I’m protecting you from the stalker?” He pushed his palm flat up against the tree.
“Are you?” Spencer asked.
Ian shook his head. “Nah. I actually cut through here from my house. I was coming to see Melissa.” He paused, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. “What do you think of me and Melissa being back together?”
Spencer shrugged. “It’s none of my business.”
“It isn’t?” Ian held her gaze, not even blinking. Spencer looked away, her cheeks hot. Ian wasn’t making a reference to their kiss. He couldn’t be.
She revisited that moment again. Ian’s mouth had hit hers so roughly that their teeth had smacked together. Afterward, her lips had felt achy and sore. When Spencer told Ali the exciting news, Ali had cackled. “What, do you think Ian’s going to go out with you?” she taunted. “Doubtful.”
She eyed Ian now, calm and casual and oblivious that he’d been the cause of all that strife. She sort of wished she hadn’t kissed him. It seemed like it had started a domino effect—it had led to the fight in the barn, which had led to Ali leaving, which had led to…what?
“So Melissa told me you’re in therapy, huh?” Ian asked. “Pretty crazy.”