Esmerelda looked like she’d been slapped. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” Aria said, hoping she wasn’t making a huge mistake. Perhaps having an exclusive with ArtSmash might advance her career faster, but she couldn’t let this lady push people around.
Esmerelda sniffed. “Well, it’s your career to sabotage.” She glanced around at the paintings on the wall. “And honestly, this stuff looks like a senior-year art show anyway.” She elbowed around a bunch of people coming in, almost tripping over someone’s discarded umbrella.
Once she was gone, Aria turned back to Harrison. He looked astonished. “You didn’t have to do that. ArtSmash is, like, huge.”
Aria shrugged. “Well, maybe I like Fire and Funnel better.” She offered him a small smile.
Harrison licked his lips nervously. “Well, Fire and Funnel likes you, too.”
Aria felt herself blush. “I’m glad you came tonight.”
Harrison didn’t break his gaze. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
They stared at each other. Then, slowly, Harrison moved his hand toward Aria’s. She felt his fingers entwine with hers and squeeze. She squeezed back. She was too numb and overwhelmed to know how she really felt about it or Harrison, but she told herself to stop overthinking and just relax.
Then her phone, which was wedged into her envelope clutch, began to buzz. She glanced at it, registering the familiar Philadelphia number. It was Fuji. The hoodie.
“I—I need to take this,” Aria said, holding up one finger. “I’ll be right back.”
She ducked through the crowd and into the hall to the bathroom. Her heart pounded as she hit ANSWER and said hello.
“Aria,” Fuji barked through the receiver. “I’m sorry to call you so late. I have Emily and Spencer on the line, too.”
“Hey,” Emily and Spencer said in unison.
“H-hi,” Aria answered shakily, her heart hammering hard.
“I’ve tried to reach Hanna, but she isn’t picking up,” Fuji went on. “I have some news you might want to hear.”
“About Ali?” Aria said eagerly, unable to control her anticipation. Of course it was about Ali. There was no other reason Fuji would be calling. “Did you finally get the DNA results?” They came back a match. That hair is Ali’s. Finally, finally, they understand that she’s still alive.
“I’m sorry it took so long, but yes, we got them,” Fuji said in a clipped voice. “The hair on the sweatshirt is Spencer’s.”
Aria’s mind went blank.
“What?” Spencer sputtered.
“It might have stuck to the shirt when you girls were examining it,” Fuji explained. “I’m sorry, girls.”
“I can’t believe this,” Spencer said faintly.
“B-but you tested the rest of the sweatshirt, right?” Aria pleaded. “There was something else on there, maybe? Ali’s skin cells? Another hair? An eyelash?”
Fuji sighed. “My team looked over the sweatshirt very thoroughly, but we didn’t find anything else that could be tested. You girls should also know that Rosewood Day had disabled their surveillance cameras in the pool area for the summer, so we have no record of the intruder. To be honest, no one should have been in there at all—including you, Emily. You’re lucky they’re not thinking of pressing charges on you for trespassing.”
“But . . . ,” Emily said emptily, trailing off. “It’s my school. I was there for a class. I wasn’t exactly trespassing.”
Aria sank against the wall. “So you have no video evidence?”
“No.” Fuji sounded frustrated. “We’ll keep looking around and asking questions, though. But as far as it being Alison, that’s simply impossible. Please let Hanna know.”
Aria listened to the dull click as Fuji disconnected the line. Then she stood back, her magical day suddenly ruined.
That was it. They were back to square one.
15
STAND CLEAR OF THE CLOSING DOORS
“Okay, fifteen minutes to air,” said Samantha Eggers, a pointy-chinned woman with dark-framed glasses, as she poked her head through the doorway. “Everyone good?”
Spencer and the other kids on the anti-bullying panel nodded, and then Samantha—the same woman who’d called Spencer and invited her to be on the panel—disappeared through the door. She’d stuck everyone in the green room, as she called it, where they could wait and relax as the crew got everything ready. It was basically a conference room in the Time-Life Building on Sixth Avenue near Fiftieth, which also housed Time, Entertainment Weekly, People, and aired a CNN morning show on the street level. The green room was full of chairs, couches, and magazines, and a long table held bowls of pretzels, a plate of cubed cheese, and a cooler full of sodas. The sweeping windows looked out onto Sixth Avenue and Radio City Music Hall’s old-fashioned neon sign.
There were supposed to be six kids on the panel, but not everyone was here yet. There were two girls besides Spencer, one of them equally fussily dressed and poised-looking as Spencer was. The other girl was Asian and reminded her of Emily: She wore no makeup, her dark hair was simply pulled back, and her plain black dress revealed strong-looking calves. Two boys sat on opposite sides of the room, cagily looking at their phones. By their slight frames and nervous demeanors, Spencer wondered if they’d been bullied. Maybe she’d even talked to them on her site.
She wanted to ask, but her mind was still on the call from Fuji. Why did Fuji shoot them down again and again? Now what were they going to do?