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Aria shot up and leaned against Spencer’s vanity. The old wood made a creaking noise under her weight. Was he implying what she thought he was implying? “I didn’t want you to follow me!” she cried. “And I haven’t been sending any signals!”
Xavier raised his eyebrows. “I don’t believe that.”
“It’s true!” Aria whimpered. “I didn’t want you to kiss me. You’re going out with my mom. I thought you were coming up here to apologize!”
The room was suddenly so quiet that Aria could hear the ticking of his watch. There was something about Xavier that seemed so much bigger tonight, raw and powerful.
Xavier sighed, his eyes intense. “Don’t try to turn it around and act like this is my fault. And anyway, if you were truly freaked out about the kiss, why haven’t you told anyone about it yet? Why is your mother still taking my calls? Why is your brother still inviting me over to play more Wii with him and his new girlfriend?”
Aria blinked helplessly. “I…I didn’t want to cause problems. I didn’t want anyone to get mad at me.”
Xavier touched her arm, his face looming closer. “Or maybe you didn’t want your mom to kick me out quite yet.”
He leaned closer, his lips starting to pucker. Aria shot away from the bureau and across the room to Spencer’s half-open closet, nearly tripping over her long dress. “Just…stay away from me,” she said in the strongest tone of voice she could find. “And stay away from my mom, too.”
Xavier made a few clucking noises with his tongue. “Okay. If that’s how you’re going to be. But know this—I’m not going anywhere. And if you know what’s best for you, you won’t say anything to Mom about what happened.” He stepped back, snapping his fingers. “You know how easily things can be twisted around, and you’re just as guilty as I am.”
Aria blinked in disbelief. Xavier kept smiling, like this was funny. The room swirled dizzily, but Aria tried to remain calm. “Fine,” she blurted out. “If you’re not going to leave, then I will.”
Xavier looked unimpressed. “Where are you going to go?”
Aria bit her lip, turning away. It was, of course, a valid question—where could she go? But there was only one place. She shut her eyes and pictured Meredith’s swollen belly. The small of her back began to ache, anticipating the cramped bed in Meredith’s studio/spare bedroom.
It would be painful watching Meredith start to nest and Byron get all new-parent giddy. But Xavier had made things crystal clear. Things could get so easily twisted around, and he seemed more than happy to twist them if need be. Aria would do everything she could not to wreck her family ever again.
29
THE WHOLE, PATHETIC TRUTH
Spencer had an advantage over everyone else at the benefit who might have wanted to leave without Wilden noticing—it was her house, and she knew all the secret exits. Wilden probably didn’t even know that there was a door at the back of the garage that led straight into the backyard. She paused only to grab a small flashlight by her mom’s gardening supplies, put on a forest green rain slicker that was hanging on a peg on the wall, and stuff her feet into a pair of extra riding boots, which were flung haphazardly on the garage floor next to her dad’s old Jaguar XKE. The boots weren’t lined, but they’d do a better job keeping her feet warm than her strappy Miu Miu heels.
The sky was purplish black. Spencer ran along the perimeter of the yard, grazing the frozen blueberry bushes that separated her property from Ali’s old house. The flashlight’s tiny beam danced against the uneven ground. Luckily, most of the snow had melted, so it would be easy to see where they’d buried the trash bag.
Halfway across her yard, Spencer heard a twig snap and froze. She turned around slowly. “Hello?” she whispered.
There was no moon tonight, and the sky was eerily clear, filled with stars. Muffled noises from the party drifted across the lawn. Somewhere very far away, a car door slammed.
Spencer bit down hard on her lip and kept going. Her boots sloshed through the half-slush, half-mud. The barn was just ahead. Melissa had turned on the porch light, but the rest of the barn was dark. Spencer walked right up to the edge of the porch and stood very still. She was breathing hard, as if she’d just run six miles with her old field hockey team. From back here, her house seemed so small and far away. The windows glowed yellow, and she could see the vague shapes of people inside. Andrew was in there, as were her old friends. Wilden too. Maybe she should have left this to him. But it was too late now.
A little breeze curled around her neck and down her bare back. The hole they’d dug for the trash bag was easy to find, a few paces to the left of the barn near the winding bluestone path. Spencer shuddered, overcome by a foreboding sense of déjà vu. Their seventh-grade sleepover had been on a moonless night a lot like this. After their argument, Spencer had followed Ali out here, demanding that she come back inside. And then they’d had that stupid fight about Ian. Spencer had suppressed the memory for so long, but now that it was out in the open again, she was sure she’d never forget Ali’s twisted face as long as she lived. Ali had laughed at Spencer, taunting her for taking Ian’s kiss seriously.
Spencer had been so hurt, she’d shoved Ali hard. Ali had gone flying, her head making a horrible crack against the rocks. It was a wonder the cops had never found the rock Ali hit—it must have had a trace of blood on it, or at least a hair. In fact, the cops barely investigated anything back here besides the inside of the barn those first crucial weeks after Ali went missing. They’d been pretty convinced Ali had run away. Had that just been a sloppy oversight? Or was there some reason they didn’t want to look more carefully?
