Mrs. Fields took her arm. “You’re so pale. Let’s get some air.”
The street smelled of car exhaust and stale beer from the dive bar next door. Emily took heaving breaths, trying to tell herself this wasn’t a big deal. But it was. She couldn’t lie to a federal agent.
Beep.
Dizzily, she glanced at her phone again. As if on cue, a text message from an anonymous sender had come in. Emily gasped as she read the note.
Wait until I tell Agent Fuji that you and your GF are perfect for each other—you’re both cold-blooded criminals. —A
4
No One Knows What Aria Did Last Summer
“Go, Noel, go!” Aria Montgomery screamed from the sidelines of the lacrosse field the following afternoon at lunchtime. Her boyfriend, Noel Kahn, dashed across the grass and tried for his fifth goal in a row. Aria held her breath as the ball sailed into the net.
“Yes!” she screamed, slapping hands with Hanna. The lacrosse team was raising money for the local homeless shelter, and people had placed donation bets on which player could get the most balls past the goalie in under a minute. Naturally, Aria had ten bucks on Noel.
Once the minute was up—Noel was in second place after Jim Freed—Noel trotted over to her. “You were amazing!” Aria squealed, wrapping her arms around him.
“Thanks, babe.” Noel kissed her long and hard, making the backs of Aria’s legs tingle. Even though they’d been dating for over a year, Aria’s stomach still flipped when she smelled his slightly lemony, slightly sweaty post-workout scent.
Hanna, who had just greeted her own lacrosse-playing boyfriend, Aria’s brother, Mike, nudged Noel. “I can’t believe you’ve turned Aria into a lacrosse groupie. I didn’t think it was possible.”
Noel took a mock bow. “It was hard work, but totally worth it.”
“Aw, thanks.” Aria pulled her cardigan tighter around her shoulders. It was chilly for late April, and the gray sky threatened rain. Hanna was right: If someone had told her at the beginning of her junior year that she’d be watching the lacrosse charity event during lunch instead of, say, working on a sculpture, she would have laughed her head off. And if that person had said she would be dating Noel Kahn, she would have fallen off her chair. Aria had crushed on Noel big-time when she and Ali were friends in middle school, but after Noel liked Ali instead, she’d sworn off him. Then, when she returned from her family’s three-year sabbatical in Iceland, she was no longer the kind of girl who dated preppy lacrosse players. Or so she’d thought.
The coach blew the whistle. Noel scooped up his stick, gave Aria another kiss, and trotted with Mike toward the middle of the field to be with their team. Aria’s heart swelled as she stared at his strong, straight back and taut calves. When the girls had been about to confess to the police about killing Tabitha, all she could think of was never seeing Noel again—never kissing him, holding his hand, even lying on the couch and listening to him loudly chew pretzels. Although they hadn’t confessed, she still felt like she was on borrowed time with him.
After the boys were a safe distance away, Aria cleared her throat. “So I got a weird message yesterday.”
She showed Hanna the screen on her phone. Your name was on a list of guests at The Cliffs during Tabitha Clark’s murder. . . . We need to speak as soon as possible. . . . I appreciate your cooperation.
Hanna nodded. “I got this, too. So did Spencer and Emily—and Mike,” she said. “Did Noel?” The boys had been on the Jamaica vacation with them.
Aria stiffened, glancing at Noel in his lacrosse pads and cleats. He’d just jumped on Mason Byers’s back, and Mason was swinging around, trying to get him off. “Um, I haven’t asked him,” she said in a low voice. “Noel didn’t see us talking to Tabitha, though. And he and Mike definitely didn’t see . . . you know. It’s not like they’ll say anything weird.”
As soon as the words came out of her mouth, she wasn’t sure if she believed them. On the trip, Noel had paid no mind to Tabitha except to say that she seemed somehow familiar. Then, when Tabitha’s body had washed ashore and it was all over the news, Noel often changed the channel, half the time not even registering that they’d been in Jamaica the same time she had. Only recently had he begun to perk up at the story. Now, every time her picture appeared on TV, he squinted at it curiously, saying, “Doesn’t she remind you of someone?” What if he’d noticed how jumpy Aria was whenever a Tabitha story came on? What if he innocently mentioned that Tabitha reminded him of Ali? There were all sorts of inadvertent, unintentional ways Noel could incriminate her.
Aria shook out her hands. Noel would probably talk to the officer for two minutes, tops. And anyway, the girls hadn’t killed Tabitha—A had bludgeoned her on the beach.
Of course, they were the only ones who knew that.
“Should we meet with Agent Fuji?” Hanna asked.
“It’s not like we can say no.” Aria bit a nail. “Maybe we could all meet with her together. At least then we’ll all tell the same story.”
Then Hanna pushed her phone toward Aria. “I also got this.”
Aria read the message. Only losers campaign against losers. Make any effort to win, and not only will you lose my respect—I’ll tell Agent Fuji about all your naughty little lies. —A
“Mike was trying to persuade me to run for May Queen,” Hanna whispered. “And then Chassey Bledsoe walked in looking all fabulous.”
“I saw her!” Aria exclaimed. “She looks sort of . . . airbrushed, doesn’t she?”