Sara Shepard - Wicked

“Emily?”

She whirled around, her heart racing. Isaac stood behind her. He wasn’t wearing his coat, and his cheeks flared red from the cold. “What are you doing out here?” he asked.

Emily stared at the fluorescent lines that demarcated the parking spaces, unable to meet his eyes. “I-I thought it would be better if I left.”

“Why?”

She paused. Isaac didn’t sound angry. He sounded… confused. She glanced through the windows of the restaurant, watching as the waitresses walked up and down the rows of tables. Was it possible Maya hadn’t said anything?

“I’m sorry about what I said in there,” Isaac went on, shivering. “That I was your date. I didn’t mean to define tonight like that.”

His face was full of earnest shame. Suddenly, Emily saw it from his perspective—what he’d blurted out, the delicate mistake he thought he’d made. “Don’t apologize,” she burst out, steadying his chilled hands. “God, please don’t apologize!”

Isaac blinked. One corner of his mouth pulled up into a tentative smile.

“I wanted this to be a date,” Emily breathed. As soon as she said it, she knew it was the absolute truth. “In fact, that Rosewood Day fund-raiser you’re working? You should see if your dad will let you off for the night. I’d love it if you could come with me…as my date.”

Isaac grinned. “I think he could let me off work just this once.” Then he squeezed her hands hard and pulled her close. Then, as an afterthought, he murmured, “So who was that girl in the restaurant, anyway?”

Emily stiffened, a sharp feeling of guilt prodding her side. She should just tell Isaac the truth before A did. Would it really be so bad? Hadn’t she spent the entire fall coming to terms with being out in the open about this?

But no—the deal was if Emily kept her mouth shut about A, A would keep quiet to Isaac. Right? The hug was so cozy and warm, and it seemed a shame to ruin the moment. “Oh, just this girl who goes to my school,” she finally answered, pushing the truth down deep. “No one important at all.”

An hour later on Thursday, Aria sat rigidly on the couch in her den. Mike sat beside her, clicking through the setup windows of his Wii, which Byron had bought him for Christmas as an attempt to apologize for wrecking the family and impregnating Meredith. Mike was making yet another Mii character, flipping through the options for eyes, ears, and noses. “Why can’t I make my biceps bigger?” he grumbled, assessing his character. “I look so puny.”

“You should make your head bigger,” Aria grumbled.

“Want to see the Mii Noel Kahn made of you?” Mike clicked back to the main screen, tossing Aria a someone still likes you look. Noel had had a thing for Aria back in the fall. “He made one of himself, too. You guys could get it on in Wii-land.”

Aria just slumped down in the couch, reached into the big plastic bowl that sat in the middle of the couch for another cheese curl, and said nothing.

“Here’s the Mii Xavier made.” Mike clicked over to a large-headed character with short hair and big brown eyes. “That dude kills at bowling. But I kicked his ass at tennis.”

Aria scratched the back of her neck, an ambivalent heaviness in her chest. “So you…like Xavier?”

“Yeah, he’s pretty cool.” Mike clicked back to the Wii’s main menu. “Why, don’t you?”

“He’s…okay.” Aria licked her lips. She wanted to point out that Mike suddenly seemed to be taking their parents’ divorce in stride, considering that after they’d split up, he’d obsessively played lacrosse in the rain. But if she said something like that, Mike would roll his eyes and ignore her for a week.

Mike glared at her, turning off the Wii and switching the television back to the news. “You’re acting like you’re on drugs or something. Are you nervous about the trial tomorrow? You’re going to rock on that witness stand. Just do some Jäger shots before you go up there. It’ll be all good.”

Aria sniffed and stared at her lap. “Tomorrow’s just opening statements. I won’t be testifying until late next week at least.”

“So? Do a shot of Jäger tomorrow anyway.”

Aria shot him a weary look. If only a Jäger shot could cure all her problems.

The six o’clock news was on. The screen showed yet another shot of the Rosewood courthouse. A reporter was getting more civilians’ thoughts about the start of tomorrow’s big murder trial. Aria buried her head into the pillow, not wanting to watch.

“Hey, don’t you know that chick?” Mike asked, pointing at the TV.

“What chick?” Aria asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.

“That blind chick.”

Aria whipped her head up. Sure enough, Jenna Cavanaugh was on television, a microphone thrust under her chin. She was wearing her fabulous, oversize Gucci sunglasses and a bright red wool coat. Her seeing-eye golden retriever was standing obediently by her side.

“I hope this trial is over quickly,” Jenna said to the reporter. “I think it’s bringing a lot of bad press to Rosewood.”

“You know, she’s pretty sexy for a blind chick,” Mike remarked. “I’d do her.”

Aria groaned and smacked her brother with a pillow. Then, Mike’s iPhone bleated, and he jumped up and rushed out of the room. As he clomped up the stairs, Aria turned her attention back to the television. Ian’s mug shot popped up. His hair was a mess and he wasn’t smiling. After that, a camera panned over the snowy hole in the DiLaurentises’ backyard where Ali’s body had been found. The wind made the police tape flap and dance. A blurry shadow shimmered between two enormous pine trees. Aria leaned forward, her pulse suddenly racing. Was that…a person ? The picture changed again, back to another shot of the reporter in front of the courthouse. “The case is proceeding as planned,” the reporter said, “but many are still saying the evidence is too thin.”

“You shouldn’t put yourself through this torture.”

Aria whirled around. Xavier leaned against the doorway. He was wearing an untucked striped button-down, baggy jeans, and Adidas sneakers. A chunky watch dangled from his left wrist. His eyes flicked from the TV screen to Aria’s face.

“I, um, think Ella is still at the gallery,” Aria said. “She had to work a private show.”

Xavier took a step into the room. “I know. We had coffee before she had to go back. There’s no electricity at my place, though—I guess ice knocked down some power lines. She said I could hang out here until we’re sure it’s back on.” He grinned. “Is that okay? I could make dinner.”

Aria ran her hands through her hair. “Sure,” she said, trying to act natural. Things were fine between them, after all. She scooted to the corner of the couch and put the bowl of cheese curls on the coffee table. “You want to sit?”

Xavier plopped down two cushions away. The news was walking through their projection of the night of Ali’s murder, complete with reenactments. “Ten thirty P . M., Alison and Spencer Hastings get into an argument. Alison leaves the barn,” a voice-over said. The girl who played Spencer looked pinched and sour. The petite blond girl who played Ali wasn’t nearly as pretty as the real Ali was. “Ten forty P .M ., Melissa Hastings wakes up from a nap and notices that Ian Thomas is missing.” The girl who played Spencer’s sister looked like she was about thirty-five.

Xavier looked at her hesitantly. “Your mom said you were with Alison that night.”

Aria winced and nodded. “Ten fifty P. M., Ian Thomas and Alison are near the hole in the DiLaurentises’ backyard,” continued the voice-over. A shadowy Ian fought with Ali. “It’s alleged that there was a struggle, Thomas pushed DiLaurentis in and was back inside the house by eleven-oh-five.”