Crushed (23 page)

Iris tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, no, but . . .”

“A lot of guys go stag. We could find someone new for you to go out with. Someone much cooler than Tripp.”

Iris pinched a piece of skin on her arm. A bird chirped in the distance, and a car swished past on the road. Emily’s heart pounded hard.
Please say yes
, she willed silently. Both because she wanted to see Jordan’s surprise . . . and because she really thought it would do Iris some good to come.

Finally, Iris sighed. “Well, okay.”

“Yes!” Emily whooped, moving in to give Iris a hug. Iris was stiff for a moment, but then she hugged back. When they pulled away, Iris’s cheeks were shiny and pink.

Then Emily’s burner cell rang. She picked it up and said hello.

“Miss Fields?” said a brisk voice. “This is Jasmine Fuji. We met the other day?”

Emily opened her mouth, but only a small grunt came out. She stared at the phone as if it were on fire. “H-how did you know this number?”

“Your mother gave it to me. I called your house first.”

Emily’s head started to spin. Her
mom.
Mrs. Fields had forced the burner cell number out of her, and Emily hadn’t thought to warn her not to give the number out to anyone. Who
else
had she given it out to?

“Look, I’ve been trying to get in touch with you and all of your friends, but I’m beginning to feel like you’re blowing me off.” Agent Fuji barked out a harsh laugh. “Do you have a moment to talk right now?”

Emily glanced at Iris, who had now stopped on the sidewalk and was staring at her. “Um, I’m kind of tied up.”

“It won’t take long, I promise.”

“I’m sorry,” Emily blurted out. “But I can’t right now. Maybe another time.” And then, before she knew what she was doing, she hung up the phone.

23
The Cold, Hard Truth

“Oh, decor chairwoman!” sang a soprano voice on Friday afternoon in the journalism barn. The room was packed with kids putting the final touches on Van Gogh murals, canvas paintings, and goody bags. Taylor Swift crooned through computer speakers, and a couple of the decor committee girls had made up an impromptu dance/cheer to “Love Story.”

“Yoo-hoo!” the voice sang again. “Miss Montgomery?”

It wasn’t until Aria felt a hand on her shoulder that she realized the girl was talking to her. It was Ryan Crenshaw, a Rosewood Day alumna who was helping with the prom decorations. Per Rosewood Day tradition, a recent graduate always came back and supervised, reminding the committees about the silly prom rituals like taking photos of the prom king and queen in the graveyard near the Four Seasons and organizing a massive conga line. It was an honor to come back and help with prom, but Ryan, who had mousy brown hair and freshman-fifteen, beer-drinking arms, and who whined unendingly about how college sucked, was just one of those girls who didn’t want to let go of high school.

Ryan guided Aria, who had been hiding in the supply closet, freaked out by all the Van Goghs, toward a table and pointed at a huge SLR camera. “You need to start snapping photos for the yearbook, paparazzo! Let’s get action shots of some mural painting! And, look! There’s our queen! Let’s get one of her trying on her crown!”

Across the room, Hanna was chatting quietly with Scott Chin, one of the yearbook editors. Ryan ushered Aria over. As soon as Hanna spied her, her face paled. She grabbed Aria’s arm and pulled her into the hall. “
There
you are. I need to talk to you.”

“What about pictures, girls?” Ryan called out.

“In a minute!” Hanna shouted over her shoulder, rolling her eyes.

They stepped onto the path that led to a small sculpture garden that a wealthy alumnus had donated to the school back in the eighties.

Hanna walked to a sculpture of a woman whose nose had fallen off years ago, faced Aria, and took a deep breath. “You know how Spencer said that Ali’s helper might be connected to the Bill Beach—there was that prescription-drug theft there a while ago?”

“Yeah.” Unconsciously, Aria started picking at the skin on the side of her thumb.

“Well, I saw Noel at the Bill Beach yesterday.”

A bolt of cold ran through Aria. “Are you sure?”

Hanna nodded gravely. “I’m dead serious. It was definitely him.”

Aria set her jaw and stared at a metal sculpture of a gyroscope a few paces away. “Maybe he had a good reason to be there.”

“Like stealing prescription drugs for Ali?” Hanna crossed her arms. “If you think he’s innocent, figure out why he was there.”

Aria turned away. “Actually, Noel and I aren’t exactly on speaking terms right now. I kind of told him about Olaf.”

Hanna’s eyes widened. “Why?”

Aria waited for a noisy riding mower to pass. “Noel got a text from A that said he should look in my closet. A obviously wanted him to know about the painting. Then the moment got weird, and Noel was convinced I was hiding something, and so . . . well, I spilled the beans about Olaf.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.” Hanna shook her head ruefully. “Are you okay?”

Aria glanced at Hanna sharply. “Please. You’re probably secretly thrilled.”

“Aria!” Hanna’s eyes were wide.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if Noel and I broke up? Then you’d be able to continue your witch hunt guilt-free.”

Hanna shook her head vehemently. “We’re not anti-Noel. We’re not anti-
you.
Believe me, all of us hate this. No one wants this to be happening.”

Aria touched the sculpture’s hand, biting back a sob. She knew Hanna was telling the truth, but it still stung every time they came to her with a new, damning Noel tidbit. She wanted to scream at them,
Aren’t we friends? Don’t you care about me?
It was like when her mom had warned her about dating Gunter, a boy in Iceland—he
was
trouble, and Aria had known it, and she also knew her mom had only said it to protect her. But it still didn’t feel good to hear it.

Hanna leaned against the sculpture’s other arm. “Has Agent Fuji called you again?”

Aria stared at the ground. “No . . .”

“She’s contacted me and Spencer. Emily, too. Apparently she wants to talk to us again.”

Aria raised her head. “
Why?
”

Hanna threw up her hands. “How should I know? My guess is that A said something about one of our secrets. Maybe the painting. Maybe Tabitha. Who knows?”

Aria’s stomach twisted in knots. On the one hand, she was relieved she hadn’t received another call, too. On the other, why
hadn’t
Fuji contacted her? “What should we do?” she asked shakily.

Just then, Ryan stuck her head out the door. “Aria? We have a question about the papier-mâché stars.”

Aria glanced at Hanna, then shrugged and followed Ryan back into the barn. As she instructed how the stars should look, her stomach churned. They
couldn’t
talk to Agent Fuji, not with that painting in Aria’s closet. They had to figure this out
soon
.

And even though she’d lashed out at Hanna for it, the new detail about Noel scared her, too. Noel didn’t know anyone at the Bill Beach. Why was he there? To see Graham?

To steal meds?

She reached into her pocket and touched the ticket stub she’d found in Noel’s wallet yesterday—she’d given Mike the wallet to return to Noel this morning and prayed he wouldn’t notice the stub was missing. The movie from only a few years ago, after Courtney’s death, when Real Ali was definitely imprisoned in The Preserve. That weird message on the back about Noel believing in someone. Aria hadn’t told her friends about it—they’d jump all over the hockey-girl doodle. Other people drew girls wielding hockey sticks, though. It didn’t necessarily mean anything.

Still, she was curious. Darting to her bag across the room, she pulled out her iPad and typed
THE WOODS CINEMA
into Google. In a split second, the results came up. The first entry was for a cinema in Maplewood, New Jersey.

Aria’s mouth went dry. Tabitha was from Maplewood. And Ali and Tabitha had clearly been at The Preserve together—and were even friends. Did this mean Noel had visited Ali when she was at The Preserve? Did he spring Ali and Tabitha out for a night so they could go to a movie? It made no sense, though—why would they go all the way to New Jersey? And why would Noel say to Agent Fuji that he’d never met Tabitha if he clearly
had
?

“Aria?”

Aria spun around. Noel stood behind her, almost like she’d conjured him. His hands were in his pockets, and there was a serious look on his face.

“H-hey,” Aria said shakily, turning the iPad facedown on the table.

Noel glanced toward the door. “Can you talk?”

Aria nodded and slipped her iPad back into her bag. When they walked into the sculpture garden again, Hanna was gone. For a while, there was only the sound of their footsteps. Halfway down the path, Noel stopped next to what everyone called the Slinky. “So I’ve been thinking about Olaf.”

Aria felt her throat close. “Noel, I . . .”

He put his finger to her lips. “I was an asshole that trip, Aria. I felt jealous that I didn’t know the Iceland side of you, and I was afraid that when you got there you were going to change and not be into me anymore. Instead of stepping up, I just acted like a whiny, ridiculous idiot. I should have just let you go with Hanna and Mike instead of coming along, too. I’m not happy that you hooked up with that guy, but I also sort of get it.”

Aria blinked. It was the last thing she’d thought he was going to say. Just last week, she would have been flattered and touched—here was gorgeous Noel, worrying
she
was going to drop
him.
But now she felt hollowed out. Suspicious. Why was Noel forgiving her so easily?

Noel took her hands. “I still want to be with you. I want to go on another vacation and do it right. We can even go back to Iceland if you want. This time, I’ll ride one of those silly horses.”

Aria knew she was supposed to laugh, but she couldn’t muster the emotion. She looked away instead, a lump in her throat. Her hands felt like two dead weights.
Ali and Tabitha
, her mind screamed.
Maplewood. Hockey-player girl. Ask him.

Noel cocked his head. “You seem miserable.”

“I’m not,” Aria said, her voice squeaking. “I just . . .” She trailed off. If only there was a way to bring Tabitha’s name into the conversation without it seeming really random or suspicious. But
how
?

Noel pulled his hands away. “What the hell, Aria? Here I am, bending over backward for you, telling you everything, getting you the decor chairwoman spot, putting up with your weird moods, forgiving you for
cheating on me
, and you’re still treating me like shit. It’s getting kind of old, okay? The secrets, the strange behavior . . . it’s like I’m not fully part of your life.”

“Don’t say that,” Aria whispered. “I’ve just been distracted, that’s all.”

“With
what
?” Noel demanded.

Aria’s throat bobbed. All she wanted was to exonerate him. But she couldn’t just ask for the answers.

She stared at Noel. An indentation of something showed through the pocket of his jeans. It was his cell phone. A tantalizing idea wormed its way into her mind.

She took a few moments to center herself, then stepped closer and cleared her throat. “I can’t stop thinking about what I did to you. I still feel awful because of it. And with the explosion on the boat and almost dying out at sea, I’ve been a mess, Noel.”

“Then
tell
me about it,” Noel said. “Don’t hide it. Don’t hold it inside and make me guess.”

“Okay,” Aria mumbled, even mustering up some tears. “I will. I promise.”

Then she pulled him into a hug. For a moment, she was afraid Noel wouldn’t hug back, but he tentatively wrapped his arms around her. Aria’s heart banged against his chest. She slid one hand down the length of his waist. Carefully, delicately, she pinched the top of the phone with two fingers and slipped it out one inch at a time, as deftly as a pickpocket. Noel shifted, but he didn’t seem to notice it was gone.

Aria dropped the phone in the big pouch of her hoodie. When they broke away, Noel was staring at her lovingly again.

She swallowed hard and gestured to the barn door. “Well, they need me back inside.”

Noel kissed her cheek. “Call me when you’re done, okay?”

“Okay,” Aria said shakily. In seconds, he was gone.

She couldn’t get back into the barn fast enough; it would only be a few minutes before Noel discovered his phone was missing. She ran to her iPad and found a USB cord inside her bag. She plugged the phone in. A window appeared asking if she wanted to transfer data to the device. She stabbed
YES
. Numbers flashed across the screen. In under a minute, a message popped up that the transfer was complete.

Aria yanked the phone from the USB, opened the barn door, and flung the phone into the grass. Hopefully, Noel would just think he’d dropped it.

She returned to the iPad. Noel’s texts had loaded. She scanned them quickly, not expecting to find much—if Noel
was
A, he’d probably use a different phone with an unlisted number. Besides the texts Noel had sent to Aria about couple stuff, most of them were to his lacrosse buddies or family members. But as she skimmed farther down the list, there was something strange. Two Februarys ago, Noel had sent a text to an unlisted number.
Anything you need
, it said. The unlisted number had texted back.
Thanks for helping me. You know what to do.

Aria did the math. February was when Noel and Aria bonded at the séance at that head shop in Yarmouth. It was bizarre he’d even saved this text—surely he’d had an earlier-model phone back then. He must have transferred it from that phone to this one. It must have been sentimental. Could this text be from Ali? What did
You know what to do
mean?

Aria shut her eyes. This was all horrible conjecture. Was she really
doing
this? Had she lost her mind?

She clicked out of the texts, her limbs feeling heavy. Noel’s e-mails had loaded, too, but Aria no longer wanted to look at them. Then a familiar name caught her eye.
Agent Jasmine Fuji.
It was from just two days ago. Aria felt dizzy. But Noel had talked to her last week, right?