Sara Shepard - Wicked

Hanna frowned. It sounded like Kate was talking on the phone. She pressed her ear to Kate’s door, curious. “No, I promise,” Kate urged in a low voice. “ Trust me. And it’s almost time—I can’t wait!”

Then Kate let out a low, nasty snicker. Hanna shot away from the door like it was on fire, covering her mouth. Kate’s snicker evolved into a full-on laugh.

Hanna backed down the hall, horrified. It was the kind of laugh she couldn’t help but recognize—she and Mona used to snicker like that when they were in the midst of planning something huge. They’d made that snickering noise when Hanna plotted to fake-friend Naomi because she’d stolen Mona’s date to the Sweetheart Dance. And they’d snickered like that when Mona created a fake MySpace page for Aiden Stewart, a cute guy from the Quaker school, and used it to torment Rebecca Lowry because Rebecca had nominated herself for Snow Queen, an honor that was rightfully supposed to go to Hanna. This isn’t going to be pretty, the snicker always implied, but this is what the bitch deserves. And we’re sure as hell going to find it fucking hilarious.

All of Hanna’s worries rushed back in as thunderously as a mudslide cascading down a mountain. It sounded like Kate was planning something huge too, and Hanna had a pretty good idea what it might be.

As soon as Emily and Isaac pulled into the Hastings family’s round driveway Saturday evening, a valet rushed to the car door and asked for their IDs. “We want to get a record of everyone who’s here,” the guy said. Emily noticed there was a gun on his belt.

Isaac glanced at the gun, then at Emily. He touched her hand. “Don’t worry. Ian’s probably halfway around the world today.”

Emily tried to hide her wince. Ian had been missing for a full day now. Emily had told Isaac she was one of Ali’s best friends and had attended the trial yesterday, leaving out, of course, that she had been receiving threatening notes from New A—who Emily was convinced was Ian. Unfortunately, Emily had a pretty good idea that Ian wasn’t halfway around the world by now, but still here in Rosewood, digging for some big secret he thought the cops were hiding.

Part of Emily was furious at Spencer for not telling them about Ian’s eerie visit sooner. At the same time, Emily understood why Spencer hadn’t told. Spencer had shown them the note that Ian had sent after his visit, the one that said Spencer would suffer if she said a word about it to anyone. Besides, it wasn’t like Emily had said much about her own A note, the one that threatened to tell Isaac if Emily told about A. It seemed Ian was as cunning as Mona had been, knowing precisely how to keep all of them quiet.

Still, right after Spencer admitted the truth, the girls had tried to grab a cop to tell him what had happened, but the entire Rosewood PD was already off on an Ian manhunt. Spencer’s parents had debated whether holding tonight’s fund-raiser was even appropriate, but they’d decided to just be very, very cautious. Spencer had called Emily and her old friends last night and begged them to please come so they could all be together for moral support.

Emily tugged at the bottom hem of the dress she’d borrowed from Carolyn and stepped out of the Volvo. Spencer’s house was all lit up like a birthday cake. Wilden’s police car was parked front and center, and a few more valets were directing traffic. As Isaac took her hand, Emily noticed Seth Cardiff, her ex-boyfriend Ben’s best friend, getting out of a car behind them. She tensed her shoulders and grabbed Isaac’s arm.

“This way,” she said urgently, pushing Isaac roughly up the front walk. Then she saw Eric Kahn standing on the porch. If Eric was there, Noel was undoubtedly close by.

“Er, wait.” She pulled Isaac into a shadowy spot next to a large, snow-laden shrub and pretended like she was searching through her silver clutch. The wind shook the branches on the big evergreen next to them. Emily suddenly wondered if what she was doing was nuts. Here she was, standing in the dark, when a crazy murderer was on the lam.

Isaac laughed uncomfortably. “Is anything wrong? Are you hiding from someone?”

“Of course not,” Emily lied. Eric Kahn finally went back inside. Emily straightened and started up the path again. She took a deep breath and opened the front door. Bright light accosted them from inside. Here goes.

A string quartet was set up in the corner, playing a dainty minuet. Women in silk and sequined party dresses laughed with men in sleek, dark suits. A waitress glided by Emily and Isaac, carrying a large tray of full glasses of champagne. Isaac plucked two glasses off the tray and handed one to her. Emily took a sip, trying not to gulp.

“Emily.” Spencer stood in front of her, wearing a short black dress with feather detail around the hem and incredibly high sling-backs. Her eyes fell to Isaac’s hand, which was curled around Emily’s. A wrinkle formed over her brow.

“Uh, Isaac, this is Spencer. Her parents are throwing this,” Emily explained quickly, slowly unwinding her hand from Isaac’s. “Spencer, this is Isaac.” She wanted to add, my boyfriend, but there were way too many people around.

“Rick Colbert, the caterer tonight, is my dad,” Isaac explained, holding his hand out for Spencer to shake. “Have you met him?”

“I didn’t handle any of the arrangements,” Spencer said sourly. She turned back to Emily. “So did Wilden tell you the rules? We’re not allowed to go outside. If someone needs to go to their car, tell Wilden and he’ll go for you. And then when you’re ready to leave, he’ll escort you.”

“Wow.” Isaac rubbed his hair. “You guys are really taking this seriously.”

“It is serious,” Spencer snapped.

When she started to turn away, Emily grabbed her arm. She wanted to ask Spencer if she’d told Wilden about Ian’s visit, like she promised she would. But Spencer shrugged her off. “I can’t talk right now,” she said abruptly, and disappeared into the crowd.

Isaac rocked on his heels. “Well, she’s friendly.” He looked around the room, at the priceless Oriental rug in the enormous foyer, the stonework on the wall, and the portraits of old Hastings ancestors all over the gallery. “So this is how kids from your school live, huh?”

“Not all of us,” Emily corrected him.

Isaac walked over to a console table and ran his hands over an ornate Sèvres tea set. Emily wanted to steer him away from it—Spencer always told Emily and the others that it had once belonged to Napoleon—but she also didn’t want Isaac to think she was scolding him. “I bet you live somewhere even bigger than this,” Isaac teased. “Like a nineteen-bedroom compound with an indoor lap pool.”

“Wrong.” Emily punched him lightly. “There are two indoor lap pools—one for me, and one for my sister. I don’t like sharing.”

“So when am I going to see this magnificent house of yours?” Isaac took Emily’s hands and swung them back and forth. “I let you into my house, after all. With my mom . Sorry about that, by the way.”

“Please.” When Emily had picked up Isaac at his house tonight, his mother had fawned over them, taking pictures and offering Emily homemade cookies. Mrs. Colbert reminded Emily of her own mom. They both collected Hummel figurines and wore the same pale blue Crocs. They could probably be BFFs. “I thought she was sweet,” Emily said. “Just like you.”

Isaac blushed and pulled her close. Emily giggled, thrilled to be pressed up against him in his fancy suit, even if he had borrowed it from his dad. He smelled like sandalwood and cinnamon gum, and she had the sudden urge to kiss him in front of everyone.