Harper kicked open the back door and led Spencer across a brick patio to a small gazebo. Several kids were sitting around a fire pit, drinking wine. A couple was making out near the hedges. Harper settled down on a bench, pulled a cigarette from her jacket pocket, and lit it. Smelly smoke swirled around her head. “Want some?”
It took Spencer a few seconds for her to realize it was a joint. “Um, that’s okay. Pot makes me sleepy.”
“Come on.” Harper inhaled hard. “This stuff is amazing. It gives you the best high.”
Snap. A twig broke in the woods. A whooshing sound filled the air, and then soft, feathery whispers. Spencer looked around nervously. After what had happened last summer with Kelsey, the last thing she wanted was to get caught with drugs.
“Do you really think you should do that?” Spencer said, eyeing the joint. “I mean, couldn’t you get in trouble?”
Harper flicked a bit of ash off the tip. “Who’s going to tell on me?”
There was another snap. Spencer gazed into the dark woods, feeling more and more nervous. “Um, my drink’s running low,” she mumbled, holding up her empty cup.
She ran into the house, feeling relieved as soon as she returned to the overheated room. Refilling her cup with lemon-infused vodka, she strutted onto the dance floor. Quinn and Jessie invited her into their dancing circle, and she let three songs go by without thinking, trying to lose herself in the music. A junior boy named Sam cut in, dipping Spencer dramatically. The vodka zoomed through her veins, fiery and potent.
When she saw the flashing lights reflecting across the window, she thought someone had been pulled over on the street outside the house. But then, two uniformed cops opened the front door and poked their heads inside. Most of the guests hid their drinks behind their backs. The music stopped dead.
“What’s going on in here?” One of the officers shone a flashlight into the room.
Everyone scattered. Doors slammed. The other cop raised his megaphone to him mouth. “We’re looking for Harper Essex-Pembroke,” his muffled voice boomed. “Miss Essex-Pembroke? Are you here?”
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. At that very moment, Harper appeared at the back door, her hair mussed, and a startled look on her pale face. “I-I’m Harper. What’s the problem?”
The cop stepped toward her and grabbed her arm. “We got an anonymous tip that you’re in possession of marijuana, with the intent to sell.”
Harper’s mouth dropped. “W-what?”
“That’s a serious offense.” The corner of the cop’s mouth turned down.
Everyone watched as Harper was escorted through the room. Quinn shook her head in horror. “How the hell did the cops find out Harper had weed?”
As if she’d heard Quinn’s question, Harper turned around and glared at Spencer. “Nice job,” she hissed. “You ruined this party for everyone—and yourself.”
Spencer’s eyes bulged. “I didn’t say anything!”
Harper just gave her an incredulous look as the cops escorted her out the door. Jessie and Quinn gaped at Spencer. “You told?” Quinn exclaimed.
“Of course not!” Spencer said.
Jessie’s brown eyes were wide. “But you were outside with her, weren’t you? None of us would tell.”
“It wasn’t me!” Spencer exclaimed. “I swear!”
But her words fell on deaf ears. Within seconds, everyone else at the party was looking at her suspiciously. Spencer slipped out of the room, her face burning. What the hell had just happened? How was she suddenly to blame?
Bzz.
She pulled out her phone. One new text from Anonymous. She looked around at the towering trees and the silent stars. It was so quiet out, yet she felt distinctly like someone was lurking close, trying hard to keep from laughing. Taking a deep breath, she looked at her phone’s screen.
Just be happy I didn’t call the cops about YOUR secrets. —A
16
RUNNING FOR HER LIFE
“Looking good, everyone!” Hanna called to the crowds thundering down Rosewood’s main drag in the annual Rosewood Hospital 10k race. It was Saturday morning, and a steady rain was falling. Hanna’s hair looked like crap and her makeup was smudged, but she’d promised her dad she’d hand out Tom Marin buttons and treats.
“Have a banana!” she said to a skinny older man who was puffing along in a see-through rain slicker, passing him a banana with a VOTE FOR TOM MARIN sticker on the peel. “Vote for Tom Marin!” She handed water cups printed with TOM MARIN to two chubby middle-aged women who were walking the race, huddling together under an umbrella. “Go, go, go!”
Kate, who was standing next to her with the hood of her anorak cinched tight, chuckled playfully. “I don’t think your cheering is going to get them to move any faster.”
“Probably not,” Hanna giggled as the middle-aged women’s portly butts disappeared around the bend.
“Why aren’t you running this?” Kate pushed a half-peeled banana at a whippet-thin woman with iPod headphones in her ears. “I remember Mom making me cheer for you last year.”
Hanna shrugged. Last year, she ran the race with Mike—and beat him by a couple of seconds. They’d celebrated with a big bowl of pasta at Spaghetti Heaven afterwards and were so inspired by their times that they’d registered for a few more races, which they’d run this summer. But Hanna hadn’t gone running once since she and Mike broke up.
She gave Kate a sidelong glance. “Actually, the better question is why aren’t you running?” Kate had been a champion on her cross-country team at her old school in Annapolis. Isabel never shut up about it.