Sara Shepard - Ruthless

“What’s going on?” Spencer asked irritably.

“The St. Agnes Charity Chamber Music Group,” Amelia shot back in an equally huffy voice. “Remember how I said we’re giving a concert? Veronica said it was fine to rehearse here.”

Spencer hated how Amelia called her mother Veronica , like they were all peers at a cocktail party. She was about to make a snarky reply, but then her gaze fell on a red-haired girl on one of the couches. At first, she did a double take. Then a triple take. It was like seeing a ghost.

“K-Kelsey?” Spencer stammered.

“Spencer.” The girl placed a violin back in its hard plastic case and blinked hard, like she couldn’t believe what she was seeing either. “Wow. Long time no see.”

The room began to spin. It was Kelsey Pierce, Spencer’s old friend from the Penn summer program. The one she’d ruined.

Her thoughts drifted back to the bar where she and Kelsey had met. Phineas had led Spencer and Kelsey into the tiny bathroom at the back. There was graffiti all over the walls, and a dingy toilet and pedestal sink stood in the corner. The room smelled heavily of puke and stale beer.

Phineas reached into his pockets and handed each of the girls a smooth white pill. “This is how you score fives on all your exams.”

“What is it?” Spencer turned her head away. Pills weren’t her thing. She didn’t even like taking aspirin for headaches.

“It’s called Easy A,” Phineas explained. “It’s totally amazing. Keeps you focused for hours. It’s the only way I got through junior year.”

“Where did you get it?” Kelsey’s voice cracked.

“Does it matter?” Phineas leaned against the sink. “I’m willing to let you girls try it out. Share the wealth, right?”

He thrust the pills toward them again. Spencer licked her lips. Of course she’d heard of Easy A, but only through those stupid public service announcements on TV and the gloom-and-doom flyers on the inside doors of the bathroom stalls at Rosewood Day. But Phineas’s words gripped her hard. It’ll keep you focused for hours. Spencer had no idea how she was going to get through four AP classes in six weeks. Maybe desperate times called for desperate measures.

Taking a deep breath, she reached out, snatched the pill from Phineas’s palm, and placed it under her tongue. “You won’t regret it.” Phineas turned to Kelsey. “What about you?”

Kelsey picked at her thumbnail. “I don’t know. I was busted for drugs when I was younger. I’m trying to stay away from stuff like this.”

“You won’t get in trouble,” Phineas said.

“No one will know,” Spencer urged.

Kelsey continued to rock back and forth on her heels. There was a trapped-kitten expression on her face, the same look Emily, Aria, Hanna, and Spencer herself got when Their Ali dared them to swim in Peck’s Pond, where the police had once found a dead body.

Finally, Kelsey held out her hands. “I guess I should live a little, huh?” Phineas dropped it into her palm. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed it. “Here’s to fives on our exams!”

Six weeks later, Spencer got all fives. And Kelsey, thanks to Spencer, was behind bars.

“Let’s take a break,” Amelia said now. Spencer snapped back to the moment, looking up as all the musicians were standing. Some stretched their arms above their heads. Others pulled out their phones and started to text.

Kelsey crossed the room until she was next to Spencer. “We’re twinsies,” she said, picking up a gold purse near the doorway. It was the same exact Dior tote Spencer was carrying. “So . . . long time no see.”

“Um, yeah,” Spencer answered warily, fiddling with one of the brass buttons on her blazer sleeve.

The grandfather clock in the foyer banged out the hour. Kelsey stared at Spencer, her gaze seemingly boring straight through Spencer’s skin. Spencer’s stomach swirled. Spencer hadn’t seen or heard from Kelsey since that day in the police precinct.

Someone cleared her throat, and Spencer turned to see Amelia’s curious gaze on both of them. Spencer padded down the hall and into the kitchen, motioning for Kelsey to follow—the last thing she wanted was for Amelia to eavesdrop. The kitchen smelled of fresh-cut rosemary, which Spencer’s mother had started steeping in water ever since she found out it was Mr. Pennythistle’s favorite scent.

“I didn’t know you played.” Spencer gestured at the bow Kelsey was still clutching tightly, almost like a weapon.

Kelsey stared at it. “I’ve played since I was little. Amelia’s orchestra group puts on concerts for charity, and my probation officer counts charity stuff as community service.”

“Probation officer?” Spencer blurted before she could stop herself.

Kelsey’s expression turned guarded. “You know. For what happened at Penn.”

Spencer cut her eyes away.

“I mean, you heard, right?” Kelsey’s posture was rigid and her left fist, the one that wasn’t holding the violin bow, was clenched tight. “I had to go to juvie for two months. You’re lucky they let you off with a warning.” She raised an eyebrow. “How’d you get away with that ?”

It felt as if the temperature in the room had suddenly shot up twenty degrees. Spencer was too afraid to meet Kelsey’s gaze. She felt confused, too—she’d always assumed Kelsey knew, deep down, that she’d planted those drugs in her dorm room and told the cops about her checkered past. But what if she didn’t ?

When Spencer looked up again, Kelsey was still staring at her. “Anyway, I heard you got into Princeton. Congrats.”

Spencer flinched. “H-how did you know I got into Princeton?”

“A little birdie told me,” Kelsey said lightly.

Amelia? Spencer wanted to ask, but she couldn’t make her mouth work. Kelsey had set her sights on Princeton, too, but it was doubtful the school had sent her a congratulatory early admission letter to cellblock D in juvenile hall. Then again, it seemed like they’d only sent one to Spencer by mistake.

“Kelsey?” Amelia’s nasal voice called from the den. “We need you! We’re going to run through the Schubert piece again!”

“Okay,” Kelsey yelled. Then she turned back to Spencer. Her mouth opened, as if she was going to say something, but then she seemed to change her mind and shut it again. “Good luck with Princeton, Spencer. I hope that all works out for you.” Then she walked stiffly away, the bow at her side.

Spencer sank into a kitchen chair, her heart pounding so hard it drowned out the sounds of the musicians.

Beep.

Spencer jumped. It was her cell phone, which was in the front pocket of her Dior bag that now sat on one of the chairs at the island. Swallowing hard, she paced over and pulled it out. There was a new text from an unknown sender. But before she read it, something caught her attention in the hall. Kelsey stood in the doorway to the den. She turned her head away as soon as Spencer looked up, but Spencer could tell she’d been watching. There was now a slim cell phone in the same hand that held the violin bow, too.

Stomach roiling, Spencer glanced down at the phone and pressed READ.

Think your summer bestie forgives you for being such a pill? Somehow I doubt it . . . Mwah! —A

Later that night, Emily rolled her family’s Volvo station wagon into the Rosewood Day teacher’s lot and turned off the engine. As it was eight on a Saturday, the campus was empty, and all of the Gothic-style arched windows were dark. She stared at the school’s stone façade, a flurry of memories flooding her mind: walking single-file into school in fifth grade, watching enviously as Real Ali, Naomi Zeigler, and Riley Wolfe stood at the front of the line; running to get to class and accidentally bumping Real Ali’s shoulder. “Watch it, Oscar the Grouch!” Ali teased. People used to call Emily that because of her chlorine-green, swim-damaged hair, but it hurt the most when Ali said it.