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“No!” Aria shrieked, trying to wriggle away from him.
“Stop!”
“Uh-uh!” Ezra bellowed. But his tickling hastily turned into caressing and kissing. Aria shut her eyes and let his hands flutter over her. Then, Ezra flopped back on the pillow. “I wish we could just go away and live somewhere else.”
“I know Iceland really well,” Aria suggested. “Or what about Costa Rica? We could have a monkey. Or maybe Capri. We could hang out in the Blue Grotto.”
“I always wanted to go to Capri,” Ezra said softly. “We could live on the beach and write poems.”
“As long as our pet monkeys can write poems with us,” Aria bargained.
“Of course,” Ezra said, kissing her nose. “We can have as many monkeys as you want.” He got a far-off look on his face, as if he were actually considering it. Aria felt her insides swell. She’d never felt so happy. This felt…right. They would make it work. She would figure out the rest of her life—Sean, A, her parents—tomorrow.
Aria snuggled into Ezra. She started dozing off again, thinking about dancing monkeys and sandy beaches when suddenly, there was pounding at the front door. Before Aria and Ezra could react, the door split open and two policemen burst inside. Aria screamed. Ezra sat up and straightened his boxers, which had pictures of fried eggs, sausages, and pancakes all over them. The words Tasty Breakfast! were scrolled around the waistband. Aria hid under the covers—she was wearing an oversized Hollis University T-shirt of Ezra’s that barely covered her thighs.
The cops stomped through Ezra’s living room and into his bedroom. They shined their flashlights first over Ezra, then on Aria. She wrapped the sheets around her tighter, scanning the floor for her clothes and undies. They were gone.
“Are you Ezra Fitz?” demanded the cop, a burly, Popeye-armed man with slick black hair.
“Uh…yeah,” Ezra stammered.
“And you teach at Rosewood Day School?” Popeye asked. “Is this the girl? Your student?”
“What the hell is going on?” Ezra shrieked.
“You’re under arrest.” Popeye unhooked silver handcuffs from his belt. The other cop, who was shorter and fatter and had shiny skin that Aria could only describe as ham-colored, yanked Ezra out of bed. The threadbare, grayish sheets went with him, exposing Aria’s bare legs. She screamed and dropped to the other side of the bed to hide. She found a pair of plaid pajama pants balled up behind the radiator. She stuffed her legs into them as fast as she could.
“You have the right to remain silent,” Ham-face began. “Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”
“Wait!” Ezra screamed.
But the cops didn’t listen. Ham-face spun Ezra around and snapped the cuffs on his wrists. He glanced disgustedly at Ezra’s futon. Ezra’s jeans and T-shirt were snarled up near the headboard. Aria suddenly noticed that the lacy black bra she’d had custom-fitted in Belgium was snagged on one of the bedposts. She quickly ripped it down.
They shoved Ezra through the living room and out his own door, which hung precariously on one hinge. Aria ran after them, not even bothering to put on her checkerboard Vans, which waited in the second ballet position on the floor near the television. “You can’t do this!” she shouted.
“We’ll deal with you next, little girl,” Popeye growled.
She hesitated in the dingy, dimly lit front hall. The cops restrained Ezra like he was a skinny, breakfast-boxer-clad mental patient. Ham-face kept stepping on his knobby bare feet. It made Aria love him even more.
As they bumbled out the door and onto the front porch, Aria realized someone else was in the hall with her. Her mouth fell open.
“Sean,” Aria sputtered. “What…what are you doing here?”
Sean was crumpled up against the gray mailbox unit, staring at Aria with dread and disappointment. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, staring pointedly at Ezra’s oversize pajama pants, which were threatening to fall down to her ankles. She quickly yanked them back up.
“I was going to explain,” Aria mumbled.
“Oh yeah?” Sean challenged, putting his hands on his hips. He looked sharper tonight, meaner. Not the soft Sean she knew. “How long have you been with him?”
Aria silently stared at an Acme market coupon circular that had fallen on the floor.
“I’ve packed up all your stuff,” Sean went on, not even waiting for her answer. “It’s on the porch. There’s no way you’re coming back to my house.”
“But…Sean…” Aria said weakly. “Where will I go?”
“That’s not my problem,” he snapped, storming out the front door.
Aria felt woozy. Through the open door, she could see the cops guiding Ezra down his front walk and pushing him into a Rosewood Police cruiser. After they slammed the back door, Ezra glanced toward his house again. He looked at Aria, then Sean, then back again. There was a betrayed look on his face.
A light switched on in Aria’s head. She followed Sean to the porch and grabbed his arm. “You called the police, didn’t you?”
Sean crossed his arms over his chest and looked away. She felt dizzy and sick, and clutched the porch’s rusty blue-gray glider for balance.
“Well once I got this…” Sean whipped out his cell phone and brought it close to Aria’s face. On the screen was a picture of Aria and Ezra kissing in Ezra’s office. Sean hit the side arrow. There was another photo of them kissing, just from a different angle. “I figured I should let the authorities know a teacher was with a student.” His lips curled around the word student, as if it was disgusting to him. “And on school property,” he added.
