Then Officer Wilden popped onto the screen. “I wanted to believe the girls when they told me they saw Ian in the woods,” he said, looking contrite. “But even from the start, I wasn’t really sure. I had a terrible feeling this might be a ploy for our attention.”
Aria’s mouth dropped open. What?
And finally, the camera focused on a bearded man in thick glasses and a gray sweater. Dr. Henry Warren, Psychiatrist, Rosewood Hospital, the caption below him said. “Being the center of attention is an addictive feeling,” the doctor explained. “If the focus has been on someone for long enough, they begin to…crave it. Sometimes, people take any measure possible to keep all eyes on them, even if that means embellishing the truth. Making up false realities.”
An anchor came on again, saying they’d have more on this story at the top of the hour. As the broadcast broke for a commercial, Aria placed her palms flat on the bench and took heaping breaths. What. The. Hell?
Outside, the eastbound SEPTA roared into the station and screeched to a halt. Suddenly, Aria didn’t feel like going into Philly anymore. What was the point? No matter where she went, baggage from Rosewood would always follow her.
She walked back to the parking lot, scanning for Jason’s tall frame and blond hair. There wasn’t a person in sight. The road in front of the station was empty, too, the traffic lights silently swinging. For just a moment, Aria felt like she was the only human left in the world. She swallowed hard, a peculiar feeling creeping down her neck to her tailbone. Jason had been here just now, hadn’t he? And they had seen Ian’s body in the woods…right? For a moment, she felt like she really was going crazy, just like the psychiatrist had insinuated.
But she quickly shook off the thought. As the train pulled out of the station, Aria walked back to her car. Not having anywhere better to go, she finally drove back to school.
7
KATE 1, HANNA 1
Hanna set her venti skim latte on the sugar and milk counter at Steam, the coffee bar adjacent to the Rosewood Day cafeteria. It was lunchtime that Tuesday, and Kate, Naomi, and Riley were still in line. One by one, Hanna heard each of them order an extra-large mint tea. Hanna had missed the memo, but apparently, mint tea was the drink du jour.
She ripped open a second Splenda packet with her teeth. If only she had a Percocet to go with her latte—or, better yet, a gun. So far, lunch had been a disaster. First, Naomi and Riley had fawned over Kate’s Frye boots, saying nothing about Hanna’s far-cuter Chie Mihara sling-backs. Then they’d babbled on about how much fun they’d had at Rive Gauche yesterday—one of the college-age waiters had sneaked the girls tons of pinot noir. After they’d drunk their fill, they popped into Sephora, and Kate bought Naomi and Riley gel-filled eye masks to ease their hangovers. The girls brought the masks to school today and put them on during an extra-long bathroom break during second-period study hall. The only thing that lifted Hanna’s spirits was seeing that the cold mask had turned the area around Riley’s brown eyes a harsh, chapped red.
“Hmph,” Hanna sniffed quietly. She tossed the empty Splenda packet into the little chrome trash can, vowing to buy Naomi and Riley something far better than a stupid mask. Then she noticed the flat-screen TV above the big jug of lemon water. Usually, the TV was tuned to the closed-circuit Rosewood Day channel, which showed recaps of school sporting events, choral concerts, and on-the-spot interviews, but today, someone had turned it to the news. No Thomas Body in Woods, said the headline.
Her stomach churned. Aria had told her about this story earlier this morning in AP English. How could the Thomases have received a note from Ian? How could there be no trace of Ian in those woods, no blood, no hair, nothing? Did that mean they hadn’t seen him? Did that mean he was still…alive?
And why were the cops saying Hanna and the others had made it up? Wilden hadn’t seemed to think they’d made it up the night of the party. In fact, if Wilden hadn’t been so damn hard to find that night, they could’ve gotten back to the woods faster. Maybe they could’ve even caught Ian before he got away—or got dragged away. But no, the Rosewood PD couldn’t look like screwups…so they had to make Hanna and the others look crazy instead. And all this time, she’d thought Wilden had her back.
Hanna quickly turned away from the TV, wanting to put the story out of her mind. Then something behind the cinnamon sifter caught her eye. It looked like…fabric. And it was the exact same color as the Rosewood Day flag.
Hanna swallowed hard, yanked the fabric free, spread it out, and gasped. It was a piece of cloth, cut into a jagged square. The very edge of the Rosewood Day crest was in the upper right-hand corner. Safety-pinned to the back was a piece of paper with the number 16 on it. Rosewood Day always numbered each piece so they’d know how to sew the flag back together.
“What’s that?” said a voice. Hanna jumped, startled. Kate had slunk up behind her.
Hanna took a second to react, her mind still reeling from the Ian news. “It’s for this stupid game,” she muttered.
Kate pursed her lips. “The game that started today? Time Warp?”
Hanna rolled her eyes. “Time Capsule.”
Kate took a long sip of her tea. “Once all twenty pieces of the flag have been found, they will be sewn back together and buried in a Time Capsule behind the soccer fields,” she recited from the posters that had appeared all over school. Leave it to goody-goody Kate to have memorized the Time Capsule rules, as if she were going to be tested on them later. “And then you’ll get your name immortalized on a bronze plaque. That’s a big deal, right?”