Sara Shepard - Ruthless

“Hey.”

Spencer turned and saw Kelsey standing at the back door. Her eyes were narrowed. Her mouth was a pale line. Spencer gasped. She wanted to run, but her limbs wouldn’t move.

Kelsey placed her hands on her hips. “Did you get my text?”

Spencer let out a tiny whimper. The image of Tabitha, dead on the sand, swam before her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.

“You’re so sick,” Kelsey hissed, her eyes round. “Did you really think you were going to get away with it?”

Spencer’s heart leapt to her throat. “I’m—”

“You’re what?” Kelsey cocked her head. “You’re sorry? Sorry doesn’t cut it, Spencer.”

She grabbed Spencer’s elbow hard. Spencer wrenched away, desperate to get free, but Kelsey let out a frustrated noise and tackled Spencer against the brick wall. Spencer yelled out, her voice echoing through the alley. Suddenly, a hideous, jumbled mix of all the visions that had appeared to Spencer over the past few days swirled through her mind. She saw Tabitha leering at her from the Rosewood Day stage. She saw Kelsey advancing toward her in the creek, ready to drown her.

“You can’t get away from me,” the Kelsey in her dreams had said. Or maybe it was the real Kelsey, here now. “You deserve to pay for what you did.”

“No!” Spencer screamed, smacking Kelsey hard.

Kelsey wheeled back, but then lunged for Spencer again. Panicked, Spencer thrust her hands out and wrapped them around Kelsey’s neck and squeezed harder and harder, feeling the tendons give way, feeling the air stop in her throat, feeling the delicate bones break. It was the only option. She had to stop Kelsey before Kelsey hurt her.

“Jesus!” a voice called. Spencer felt a fist in her spine. Her feet slipped out from under her, and her hands flailed at her sides. All at once, she was on her back on the ground. Various cast members stood above her, their mouths triangles of shock. Behind them, a second group of people clustered around a sobbing girl. Kelsey was bent over, gasping for air.

Spencer sat up. “Don’t let her get away!” she screeched. “She’s trying to kill me!”

Everyone stared at her. “What is she talking about?” a voice cried.

“I saw her lash out at that girl for no reason!” someone else said.

“It’s the play,” Pierre’s voice called from the back. “It’s taken over her mind.”

“She’s insane!” a familiar voice screeched. It was Kelsey.

The crowd parted, giving Spencer a clear view of Kelsey’s face. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her chest heaved in and out, frantic for air. One of the waiters was helping her to her feet. A few more people guided her down the alley toward the parking lot.

“Wait!” Spencer cried feebly. “Don’t let her go! She’s A!”

Beau crouched down. “You’ve had a long night,” he said a bit gruffly. “Maybe you should go before you make more of a scene.”

Spencer shook her head feverishly. How could he not get it? But when she looked at Beau’s freaked-out face, she understood: Somehow, it looked like this had been all her fault. To them, she’d attacked an innocent girl.

“ Freak ,” someone whispered.

“She needs to be checked into a mental institution,” someone else said.

A woman chased after Kelsey and touched her shoulder. “You should press charges. She assaulted you.”

Slowly, people began to move away from Spencer. After a moment, only Beau remained standing above her, staring at Spencer like he suddenly had no idea who she was.

“That girl is dangerous,” Spencer whispered to him. “You believe me, don’t you?”

Beau blinked at her. She wished he’d help her up, give her a big hug, and say he’d protect her. But instead, he backed away with the others. “I’m all for getting into character, Spencer, but you’ve taken it too far.”

He turned around and disappeared back into the restaurant. Spencer wanted to call out, but she felt too disoriented to do so. Then she looked at Kelsey, slowly hobbling out of the alley. After a moment, Kelsey spun around and glanced at Spencer once more. She lifted a pointer finger and slid it evenly across her throat, then pointed straight at Spencer. She mouthed something very distinctly, her lips moving slowly over each word to make sure Spencer understood.

You’re dead.

“Kelsey?” Emily pushed through the crowd, which had gotten even more packed since the party had begun an hour ago. When she turned a corner into one of the smaller dining rooms, everyone was gathered in a thick cluster, murmuring and staring as if something had just happened. Naomi, Riley, Kate, and Klaudia whispered heatedly. A cute, dark-haired guy was standing with them, and Emily did a double take. Was that Mr. Fitz, the old English teacher?

Emily had lost Kelsey as soon as she’d left the bathroom and hadn’t been able to find her since. Was Kelsey angry with Emily for knowing what Spencer had done but not saying anything?

Emily rushed past a large poster of Beau and Spencer’s portraits as Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, and a guilty twinge twisted her gut. Spencer. Once upon a time, Emily had been fiercely loyal to her friends—it was why Her Ali used to call her “Killer.” Spencer had said some terrible things, but did that really warrant Emily outing her secret to Spencer’s enemy? Suddenly, a memory popped into her head: One night last summer, after her job at Poseidon’s, she’d gotten off the subway and spotted Spencer on the street corner, talking with a guy in a black beanie hat.

“Phineas, you’ve got to get me more,” Spencer begged.

The guy, Phineas, just shrugged. Emily had tried to get a good look at him—Spencer had mentioned him countless times—but he was standing in the shadows, his shoulders hunched. He said something Emily couldn’t hear.

“I wish you hadn’t turned me on to this in the first place,” Spencer said. “It’s ruined me.”

Phineas held up his hands helplessly. When Spencer’s shoulders started to shake, he didn’t comfort her.

Emily ducked around the corner, astonished. Spencer seemed so . . . weak. Overwhelmed. In trouble. Emily knew she should do something, make her presence known, throw her arms around Spencer and help her, but all she could think of was her scandalous pregnant belly. She didn’t want Spencer to see. It was just too horrifying.

Now, that reaction felt ridiculous. Spencer had found out Emily’s condition in the end—she, along with their other friends, had helped her when she had needed them most. If Emily had gone to Spencer in that moment, would she have gotten arrested? Would Kelsey have gone to juvie? Could Emily have prevented that horrible trajectory?

Suddenly, Aria’s face swam into view, breaking Emily from her thoughts. “I’ve been looking for you. Where have you been?”

Emily made a vague gesture. “Around. Listen, have you seen . . .” She was about to say Kelsey but stopped. “. . . Spencer?”

A strange look came over Aria’s face. “Didn’t you see what happened?”

Emily glanced into the shaken crowd again. “No . . .”

“I saw the tail end of it.” Aria’s eyes were wide. “But Spencer freaked. She attacked someone. I think it was that girl she’s convinced is A—Kelsey. She’s here. ”

“Oh my God.” It was because of what Emily said about Spencer—Emily knew it. “Is anyone hurt?”

Aria shook her head. “But we need to find Spencer. Maybe she had a good reason to lash out like that.”

Emily stared around the room again. Suddenly, she saw a redheaded girl near the door, receiving her jacket from the coat-check girl. Kelsey.