Sara Shepard - Wicked

“You’re lucky to have brothers and sisters,” Isaac admitted. “I’m an only child.”

“I used to wish I was an only child.” Emily groaned. “There were always way too people at my house. And I never got new clothes—only hand-me-downs.”

“Nah, being an only child is lonely,” Isaac said. “When I was little, my family lived in a neighborhood where there weren’t many other kids nearby, so I had to entertain myself. I used to go on these walks all alone, pretending I was an explorer. I’d narrate what I did to myself. Now the Great Isaac forges a mighty stream. Now the Great Isaac discovers a mountain. I’m sure anyone who heard me thought I was crazy.”

“The Great Isaac, huh?” Emily giggled, finding it unbelievably cute. “Well, siblings can be overrated. I’m not that close with my brothers and sisters. We’ve actually had some major issues recently.”

Isaac propped himself up on one elbow, facing her. “Why?”

The snow was beginning to seep through Emily’s jeans and long underwear to her skin. She was referring to how her family had reacted to the news that she liked Maya. Not only had Carolyn freaked, but Jake and Beth had taken her off their e-mail joke lists for a while.

“Oh, just normal family stuff,” she finally said. “Nothing that interesting.”

Isaac nodded, then stood up and announced he’d better go down and rescue his snow tube from the woods before it got too dark. Emily watched him tromp down the hill, an uneasy, gnawing feeling coursing through her. Why hadn’t she just told Isaac the truth about who she was? Why did it seem so…difficult?

Then, her eyes moved to the empty chemistry building parking lot. A car was making a wide circle around the parking spaces, coming to a stop under a spotlight at the bottom of Hollis Hill, not that far from where she and Isaac had crashed. Rosewood PD was printed on the car’s side. Emily squinted, recognizing the driver’s familiar brown hair. It was Officer Wilden.

Wilden’s forehead was creased with worry, and he was barking something into his phone. Emily watched for a moment. Back when she was younger, she and Carolyn used to haul the portable kitchen TV into their bedroom and watch late-night horror movies at ultra-low volume. Emily’s lipreading was rusty, but she was pretty sure she’d just caught Wilden telling whoever was on the phone to “just stay away.”

Emily’s heart knocked in her chest. Just stay away? At that very moment, Wilden noticed Emily on the hill. He widened his eyes. After a second, he gave her a tight nod and then looked down sharply.

Emily shifted uncomfortably, wondering if Wilden had come here to get a little privacy to deal with something personal. It was silly to think that his entire life revolved around the Ali case.

When her phone, which was tucked into a little zippered pocket in her parka, began to ring, Emily let out a yelp. She pulled it out of her pocket, her body electrified. Aria’s name flashed on the caller ID. “Hey,” Emily sighed, relieved. “What’s up?”

“Have you gotten any more weird texts?” Aria demanded.

As Emily shifted her weight, the snow beneath her crunched. She watched Isaac disappear into the thick pine forest, in search of his snow tube. “No…”

“Well, I did. Just now. Whoever it is took a picture of me, Emily. Tonight. The person writing these notes knows where we are and what we’re doing.”

A gust of wind knifed across Emily’s face, bringing tears to her eyes. “Are you sure?”

“I called Wilden at the station twenty minutes ago,” Aria went on, “but he said he was going into an important meeting there and couldn’t talk.”

“Wait.” Emily rubbed her numb jaw, confused. “Wilden isn’t at the station. I just saw him a second ago.” She gazed back down the hill. The spot where Wilden’s car had been was now empty. The knot in her belly tightened. Wilden must have told Aria he’d be driving around, not going into a meeting. She’d probably just heard him wrong.

“Where are you anyway?” Aria asked.

Isaac emerged from the woods with his tube. He looked up at her and waved. Emily swallowed hard, her heart pounding. “I have to go,” she said abruptly. “I’ll call you back.”

“Wait!” Aria sounded worried. “But I haven’t—”

Emily snapped her phone closed, cutting Aria off. Isaac raised the snow tube over his head, triumphant. “The Great Isaac had to wrestle this back from a bear!” he yelled. Emily forced a giggle, trying to settle down. There had to be a logical explanation for Aria’s text. It couldn’t be anything serious.

Isaac plopped down on his sled and examined her carefully. “So we never decided what my prize is for winning the race down the hill.”

Emily sniffed, allowing herself to relax into the moment. “How about the title of World’s Biggest Cheater? Or a snowball, right in the face?”

“Or how about this?” Isaac asked. Before she knew it, Isaac was leaning in to her, kissing her softly on the lips. When he pulled away, Emily put her hands to her mouth. She tasted the wintergreen Tic Tac Isaac had been sucking on, and her lips tingled, as if they’d just been stung.

Isaac’s eyes widened, registering Emily’s expression. “Was that…okay?”

Emily smiled goofily. “Yeah,” she said slowly. And as soon as the words left her lips, she knew that somehow, it was okay.

Isaac grinned as he took her mittened hand in his. Emily’s head spun like it had just been on a few rounds of a carnival Tilt-a-Whirl ride.

Suddenly, her phone chirped again. “Sorry. My friend just called,” she explained, reaching for it. “It’s probably her calling back.” She turned slightly away and looked at the screen: One new text message.

Emily’s heart leapt to her throat. She looked around the vast, dark hill, but she and Isaac were the only people there. Slowly, she opened the text.

Hi, Em! Doesn’t the Bible say good Christian boys shouldn’t kiss girls like you? So WWAD—What Would A Do? I won’t confess your sins if you don’t confess mine. XX,

- A

A little later that Wednesday evening, Hanna hovered in the entrance of Rive Gauche, the King James Mall’s French bistro, balling up her fists and releasing them. Serge Gains-bourg lilted out of the carefully hidden speakers, and the air smelled like steak frites, melted goat cheese, and Dior J’Adore. If Hanna shut her eyes, she could almost imagine it was last winter and Mona was at her side. Nothing had gone wrong yet—Ali’s body hadn’t turned up in that awful hole, there was no garish scar on her chin, no creepy Ian out on temporary bail, no new fake A notes. Hanna and Mona were still BFFs, checking out their reflections in the antique mirrors that hung over the booths and ogling the newest copies of Elle and Us Weekly .

She’d come to Rive Gauche since Mona, of course—Lucas worked here on the weekends, and he always slipped Hanna free Diet Cokes with the teensiest splash of rum. But it wasn’t Lucas standing next to her tonight either. It was…Kate.

Kate looked good—fabulous, even. Her chestnut hair was held back by a black silk headband. She wore a vermilion empire-waist dress with a pair of dark brown Loeffler Randall boots. Hanna was wearing her favorite black patent leather Marc Jacobs heels, a fuchsia cashmere cowl-neck, skinny jeans, and her favorite ultra-red Nars lipstick. Together, they looked a gazillion times better than Naomi and Riley, who were huddled like ugly garden gnomes at Hanna’s rightful table.

Hanna glowered. Naomi’s super-short hair and stumpy neck made her look like a turtle. Riley’s ratlike nose twitched as she wiped her nonexistent lips with a napkin.