Sara Shepard - Ruthless

Emily blinked hard. Rage bubbled up inside of her, fiercer and sharper than anything she’d felt before. How dare Spencer?

She whipped around and marched across the room. “Emily!” Spencer yelled. But Emily didn’t turn. Her nose itched, like it always did when she was about to sob.

She pushed into the girls’ bathroom and placed both palms on the sink, nostrils flaring. In the mirror, she noticed Kelsey behind her, quickly shoving a small object back into her purse. “Uh, hey,” Kelsey said nervously.

Emily grunted out a reply. Then Kelsey turned and noticed Emily’s tear-streaked face, her angry triangle of a mouth. She rushed to the sink. “Are you okay?”

Emily stared at their reflections, her emotions a huge jumble. Spencer’s words burned in her brain: Ali never cared about you. She used you. Just like Kelsey’s using you now.

Then Emily raised her head, suddenly knowing what she should do. “There’s something you should know,” she said in a strong, clear voice. “About last summer.”

Kelsey’s face suddenly looked guarded. “What?”

“Spencer Hastings framed you the night of your arrest. She was the one who arranged for the pills to be planted in your room. She had someone call the cops and tell them you were trouble.”

Kelsey stiffened. “ What? ” She took a big step back, looking positively flummoxed. Emily had been right all along. Kelsey clearly hadn’t known this before.

“I’m sorry,” Emily said. “I didn’t find out that long ago, but I thought I should tell you. You deserve to know the truth.”

She moved toward Kelsey to embrace her, but Kelsey pulled her purse higher on her shoulder. “I have to go.” She hurried, head down, out of the room.

At the cast party, Aria was sandwiched between the jazz band, who were playing a very loud rendition of “The Girl From Ipanema,” and a huge poster of Macbeth , which featured Spencer’s and the guy who played Macbeth’s faces in huge black-and-white relief. Ella, her boyfriend Thaddeus, Mike, and Colleen were at her side.

“You were a wonderful doctor, Michelangelo,” Ella had to yell over the music. Her long beaded earrings swung wildly. “If I had known you had such an interest in acting, I would’ve enrolled you in the Hollis Happy Hooray Day Camp with Aria when she was little!”

Aria bleated out a laugh. “Mike would have hated it!” The Hollis Happy Hooray Day Camp put on a lot of plays, but campers were also required to put on marionette shows regularly. Mike had been deathly afraid of puppets when he was younger.

“I think he should audition for a bigger role next year,” Colleen piped up, leaning over and pecking Mike on the cheek. Everyone beamed. Mike stiffened for a moment, then forced a smile.

Aria gazed around the crowded room. She’d called Hanna and Emily earlier, asking if either of them were coming. Both had said yes—Hanna’s dad was making her since Kate was in the play, and Emily was coming to support Spencer. But she didn’t see them anywhere. The cute guy who’d played Macbeth was schmoozing with the director by the bar. Naomi, Riley, and Klaudia were dancing on a small square of wood floor near the front of the restaurant. Kate was trying to get Sean Ackard to join in, but he kept shaking his head.

Someone tapped her shoulder, and Aria spun around. Ezra stood behind her, wearing a suit jacket, a clean blue button-down, and unrumpled khakis. “Surprise!”

Aria nearly dropped the ginger ale she was holding. “What are you doing here?”

Ezra leaned into her. “I wanted to see you tonight. I called your dad’s house, and your stepmom said you were at the cast party.” He looked her up and down appreciatively, taking in the purple sweater dress she’d thrown on for the occasion.

Aria backed away. Everyone could see them. She whipped around, feeling her family’s gaze upon her. Mike looked disgusted. “Mr. . . . Fitz?” Ella said, blinking hard.

Aria grabbed Ezra by the hand and pulled him across the room. They snaked around Mrs. Jonson, one of the English teachers, who did a double take. Mr. McAdam, the AP Econ teacher, raised a suspicious eyebrow. It felt as though everyone in the restaurant was suddenly whispering about them.

“This isn’t a good time,” she hissed when they finally got to the narrow hallway that led to the bathroom.

“Why not?” Ezra stepped aside for a group of kids to pass. It was Devon Arliss, James Freed, and Mason Byers. Their eyes bulged at the sight of Aria and Ezra together—they’d all been in Aria’s English class last year and had surely heard the rumors.

“This would be the perfect time to tell your mom about us,” Ezra said. “And to talk to her about New York.” He took her hand and began to pull her back in Ella’s direction. “C’mon. What are you so afraid of?”

The jazz band shifted into a slow number. Aria planted her feet. Something in the front archway caught her eye. Noel Kahn and his brother, Erik, had just come in. Noel was looking from Aria to Ezra, his mouth open.

Aria turned back to Ezra. “Look, I can’t talk to my mom about this right now. And I don’t do well with ambushes, okay?”

Ezra shoved his hands in his pockets. “Are you saying you don’t want me here?”

“It’s not that I don’t want you here. But you seriously don’t think this is weird?” She gestured into the dining room. “All of your old colleagues are here. I still go to school with all of these people. Now everyone’s going to talk.”

Ezra’s eyes narrowed. “You are embarrassed of me.”

“I’m not!” Aria cried. “But did you see the way they all looked at us? Didn’t that make you uncomfortable?”

“Since when do you care what people think?” Ezra poked his head into the dining room. As soon as he looked, everyone’s head turned away instantly, to hide that they’d been staring.

“I don’t care what people think,” Aria insisted. Although, in this case, maybe she did.

“And you’re eighteen,” Ezra continued. “Everything we’re doing is legal. There’s nothing to worry about. Is it because I haven’t made anything of myself? Because my novel sucks?”

Aria almost screamed. “This has nothing to do with your novel.”

“Then what is it?”

At a nearby table, a waiter set a dome-shaped dessert on fire, and blue flames shot up into the air. The table applauded. Unconsciously, Aria’s gaze drifted toward the entranceway once more. Noel hadn’t moved. His blue eyes were fixed, unblinking, on Aria.

Ezra followed her gaze. “I knew it. Things aren’t over between you, are they?”

“They are. I swear.” Aria shut her eyes. “I just . . . I can’t do this with you right now. I can’t be in public with you. Not with all these people here. In New York, it’ll be different.”

But Ezra pulled away from her angrily. “Find me when you grow up and sort out all your baggage, Aria.” Then he stormed into the crowd.

Aria felt too weary to follow him. Despair rippled through her. Was love always this complicated? It certainly hadn’t been with Noel. If she truly loved Ezra, would she have been oblivious to everyone’s confused and gossipy stares?

She drifted toward the buffet and ate a tofu skewer without tasting it. A hand touched her arm again. It was Mrs. Kittinger, her art history teacher, dressed in a bowler hat, a checked men’s vest, and billowing black pants.

“Aria! Just the person I’d like to see.” Mrs. Kittinger pulled a typewritten paper halfway out of her leather bag. “I wanted to thank you for handing in your Caravaggio project early and tell you what a lovely job you did. I was reading it before the performance tonight.”