Sara Shepard - Crushed

Emily bit her thumbnail. “Wait. You’ve been here for four years straight ?”

Iris pointed at a folder hanging from a plastic slot on the door. “Check my records if you want.”

Her gaze remained on Emily. After a pause, Emily marched over to the door, ripped out the file, and leafed through it. Sure enough, there were patient records for Iris dating back four years ago. Nowhere were there signs that she’d ever been released, not even for a weekend. Iris was telling the truth.

Emily dropped the file back into the slot. If Iris had been here for four years without a break, that meant she couldn’t be Ali’s helper, killing all those people last winter and murdering Tabitha in Jamaica last spring. Feeling better, she cleared her throat. “You don’t have a vendetta against anyone on the outside, do you? You’re not going to go on some sort of rampage if I check you out?”

Iris scoffed. “They don’t allow people like that out ever. Why do you think Alison never went home?”

Emily had never thought of that. “Okay,” she said quietly. So Iris would stay with Emily for a few days. If it meant finding out more about Ali—about A—it would be worth it.

But her legs were still shaking as she walked back down the hall toward the lobby. The same woman who’d checked her in smiled from behind the desk. “Um, I forgot to mention,” Emily began, her voice trembling, “I’m Iris’s cousin. I’m taking her to see our grandma.”

She figured the receptionist wouldn’t buy it, but after a few quick checks with some nurses and Iris’s case manager, Iris was cleared to leave. When she appeared in the lobby, she’d changed into a pair of jeans that were slightly too short, as if she’d bought them a few years back. Coupled with a pink parka and a lumpy leather purse, she looked sort of . . . dorky, like a girl who sat alone in the cafeteria.

They exited the hospital together. The grass squished beneath their feet as they walked toward the parking lot. It was so quiet outside Emily could hear her own ragged, nervous breathing. She looked around, certain A was watching, but there wasn’t a single car on the road or pedestrian on the little trails that circled the property. The only sound was the bubbling fountain close by, the one dedicated to the memory of Tabitha Clark.

“Let’s do this, bee-yotch!” Iris whooped as Emily unlocked the Volvo. She climbed into the passenger seat, slammed the door shut, and pulled a crumpled piece of paper from her pocket. “Okay. First stop, the Metropolitan Bar in Philly.”

“Ex cuse me?” Emily stared at her. “Why are we going there?”

Iris held up the paper. It looked like a list, written in craggy, frenzied script. Have cocktails at the Metropolitan Bar. Pretend-hump the dinosaurs at the Franklin Institute. Run up the Art Museum steps like Rocky. Find Tripp. “These are the things I’ve wanted to do for four years. And you’re going to take me to do them.”

“ All of them?” Emily bleated, scanning the list. It was at least fifty items long.

Iris raised an eyebrow. “If you want intel on Ali, every single one.”

“Okay,” Emily said quietly. There was nothing like the promise of Ali secrets to shut her down. And she had a feeling Iris knew that, too.

She started the engine, gritting her teeth. This is all for a good cause, this is all for a good cause . Still, her throat was dry. She glanced at her new cell phone, certain A had sent a text about how she wasn’t going to get away with this.

But there was nothing.

Aria’s last class of the day was newspaper editing, which was held in the journalism barn. Even though the school paper had gone digital ages ago, the building still smelled like ink and newsprint. Old headlines of important Rosewood Day events decorated the walls, everything from the 1982 Rosewood Day Boys’ Soccer Team winning the state championship to a hundred trees being planted on the school’s perimeter to honor the victims of 9/11.

Ten minutes into class, Noel slunk through the back door. “Where were you?” Aria asked as he slid into the seat next to her.

Noel shrugged. “I tried to text you, but this message came on saying your phone was out of service.”

Aria stared at the grooves in her desk. “I told you. I’m not using technology this week as part of a science project.” The lie felt awkward on her tongue. Noel wasn’t going to buy that story for very long.

The PA crackled, and a familiar throat-clearing sound signaled that Principal Appleton was about to speak. “Students?” he boomed. “Would everyone mind turning to our school station? We have some important May Day Prom news.”

Mr. Tremont, the teacher, rolled his eyes but dutifully switched on the television that hung on the wall next to the whiteboard. Penny Dietz, who did the morning news, appeared. “Good afternoon, Rosewood Day students!” she chirped, her cheeks looking extra shiny. “The May Day Prom is approaching, and today we’re going to hear from some of the candidates for prom king and queen. First up, prom queen. We haven’t received Hanna Marin’s video as of yet, so let’s hear from Chassey Bledsoe.”

Noel frowned. “I can’t believe Hanna didn’t make a video yesterday.”

Aria looked away. She was busy meeting in a secret room, figuring out who A might be .

Chassey Bledsoe appeared on the screen, talking overenthusiastically about how she was thrilled to be running and that she was hosting a Vote Chassey Pasta Dinner tomorrow at the local Olive Garden franchise, which her uncle owned.

Then it was time for the candidates for king. When Noel’s image popped up, Aria’s heart did a proud flip. His hair was pushed back from his forehead, showing off his bright green eyes. The black button-down he was wearing popped against his olive skin.

Aria poked him playfully. “No wonder all the girls want you.”

Noel smiled lazily. “But I got the best one.”

Aria squeezed his arm, but then her smile dimmed, and she turned away. Spencer had written Noel’s name on the suspects board yesterday . . . and Aria had let her. Just that alone made her feel dirty and ashamed.

All day, Spencer had been texting Aria, asking if she’d asked Noel anything yet. But what the hell was Aria supposed to ask? Hey, did you kill a girl who was impersonating Alison in Jamaica and are you now trying to pin it on us? Didn’t Spencer realize her relationship, the only good thing Aria had going right now, would be over?

How could her friends possibly think Noel could be helping Ali out? Okay, so Noel had been in Jamaica—it was possible he could have seen the girls on the roof with Tabitha. But he never, ever would have fed Tabitha those Ali-lines. And, what, did they seriously think he’d killed Tabitha on the beach? Noel let spiders out of the house instead of stepping on them. He couldn’t go into the SPCA, because he said he’d take every dog home with him.

Yes, he had known Ali— both Alis. He and Their Ali had even dated for a little while at the end of seventh grade, but Ali had broken up with him after two dates, probably because she liked Ian Thomas.

When Aria looked up, Penny was back on the TV screen. “I also have an exciting announcement about the head of the prom decor committee. In a secret meeting with Rosewood staff, students, and our generous donors, it has been decided that this year’s decor chairwoman for the Starry Night –themed event is . . . Aria Montgomery!”

Everyone turned and stared at Aria. She blinked at the television. Images of Van Gogh’s The Starry Night swirled, accompanied by a techno song. Then her senior picture appeared. ARIA MONTGOMERY, it read at the bottom. MAY DAY PROM DECOR CHAIRWOMAN!