Sara Shepard - Crushed

“Ooh! These are pretty!”

Emily snapped out of her reverie in time to see Iris showing Mrs. Fields a pair of teal-blue jeans. They were a size 00—and Emily guessed they would still be too big on Iris.

She was about to stand up to go join them, but Spencer grabbed her arm. “Do you really think Noel was on a ski trip the weekend Olaf was killed?”

There was a determined look in Spencer’s eye, the same sort of face she got when she, Ali, Emily, and the others used to put together puzzles on the floor of Ali’s Poconos living room. Sometimes, they made solving the puzzles a race, and Spencer, desperate to beat Ali, shoved pieces together even when they didn’t fit.

“I don’t think we should go on a witch hunt quite yet,” Emily said slowly.

“But Noel makes so much sense, don’t you think?” Spencer whispered.

Emily shut her eyes. She didn’t want Noel to make sense. It would kill Aria. “I don’t know,” she said wearily.

“Emily!” Iris crowed. When Emily looked up, Iris was coming straight for them.

Emily shoved Spencer out of the way and stood. “Hey!” she called, trying to smile.

“What were you doing on the floor?” Iris stared suspiciously at the spot where Emily had just been sitting. Blessedly, Spencer had scampered out of sight. Then Iris pressed an armful of silk blouses at Emily’s chest. “Stuff these in your bag. I already pulled the electronic tags off.”

She glared at Iris. “My mom’s right over there!” Mrs. Fields was holding up a leopard-patterned jacket to her torso and twisting this way and that in the mirror.

Iris scoffed. “So? She won’t see.” She inched closer. “I’ll give you a really good Ali tidbit if you do.”

“Fine,” Emily growled, yanking the shirts out of Iris’s arms. Glancing back and forth, she took a deep breath and shoved the shirts deep into her swim bag that sometimes doubled as a purse. She marched over to her mom and grabbed her elbow. “We’re going now.”

“So soon?” Mrs. Fields looked disappointed. “We just got here! And isn’t this cute?” She showed Emily the leopard jacket. “I wanted to get you something special.”

“That’s sweet, but, um, Iris has an interview at four thirty,” Emily said, steering them toward the exit. “It’s a really big deal—they’re thinking of offering her a scholarship.”

“Really?” Mrs. Fields smiled at Iris. “Where?”

“Villanova,” Emily said quickly before Iris could spout out a made-up college name—or ask what the hell Emily was talking about. “I have to drive her there, in fact. So we’d better get a move on.”

Her heart thudded as she walked past the displays by the doors. As her fingers curled on the handle, she braced herself for the alarms—and her mom’s wrath.

But no sirens sounded as Emily pushed through the second door fast and spilled onto the sidewalk. Her whole body was sweating. Her head throbbed. She couldn’t believe Jordan used to do this on a regular basis—except with boats and cars.

“Okay, see ya, Mom,” Emily said, yanking Iris toward the station wagon.

“This was lovely, girls!” Mrs. Fields looked so pleased Emily almost felt sorry for her. She waved as she headed toward the family minivan. “Let’s do it again!”

Emily’s swim bag felt like a lead weight in her hand. She was certain that any minute someone was going to pounce on her and make her return everything. Only once they were in the car and moving did she breathe out.

Iris kicked her legs. “Whoa, what a rush!”

Emily squeezed her hands on the wheel. “I can’t believe you made me do that in front of my mom.”

Iris rolled her eyes. “Stop being so dramatic.”

“I’ve definitely done my part,” Emily insisted. “Now tell me something about Ali.”

Iris rubbed her palms together. “What do you want to know?”

Emily’s mind scattered in a thousand different directions. She hadn’t been prepared to get to choose her question. “Did Ali have a boyfriend?”

Iris ran her fingers across one of her newly stolen shirts. “Everyone adored Ali. Guys and girls. Everyone wanted a piece of her.”

“Was there someone special? Someone who would do anything for her?”

A knowing smile spread across Iris’s face. “You were the one who was in love with her, weren’t you?”

Emily flinched. “Who told you that?”

Iris’s eyes locked on Emily’s. “Ali talked about you all the time when she was at The Preserve. She was like, My sister has this one friend named Emily who’s got it bad for her. That’s how I’m going to win her over. She’ll be a piece of cake. ”

Emily focused on the lines on the highway until they blurred. That was exactly how Ali had won Emily over; she’d kissed Emily as passionately as Emily had kissed Their Ali in the tree house at the end of seventh grade. And then Ali had said how much she’d always loved Emily, even when she was trapped in The Preserve. Of course Emily had bought it. It had been what she’d always wanted to hear.

“Aw, did I hit a nerve?” Iris asked, stroking Emily’s forearm.

Emily ripped her arm away. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Do you still love her?”

“I’m not talking about this with you,” Emily snapped. “But no, I don’t love her anymore.” Again, Jordan’s face flashed in her mind. She felt a pang of sadness.

“But you did after the fire in the Poconos, didn’t you? Someone snuck an iPad into The Preserve around the time all that Ali stuff went down, and I remember watching a lot of the footage. I saw your face on the news. You looked crushed that she might be dead. Your true love . . . gone . That had to hurt.”

Emily turned her head so sharply toward Iris that Iris cowered. “What do you know about true love?” Emily snarled.

Iris’s bottom lip trembled. “I was in love once, too.”

The moment suddenly defused. There were tears in Iris’s eyes. She pressed her lips together so tightly they were translucent. Emily did the same thing when she was trying to hold it together.

Emily faced front again, feeling bad for lashing out. “Sorry,” she muttered. “I thought you were teasing me. Do you want to talk about it?”

Iris sniffed. “I’m not talking about this with you,” she said in the exact same tone Emily had used.

“ Touché ,” Emily said softly.

They passed a Wawa and a flower shop, and then the road that led to Aria’s house. Emily tried to imagine the person Iris had been in love with, but when she tried to picture a face, she only came up with a question mark.

“Okay, fine.” Iris broke the silence. “Ali did have someone special. A guy.”

Emily’s heart started beating faster. “Okay . . .”

“She talked about him all the time. They were really tight.”

Emily was so excited that she pulled over onto the shoulder. Cars whipped past. She shifted the car into park and stared at Iris. “Was he a patient at the hospital? Or just a visitor? Do you know his name?”

“Ah, ah, ah!” Iris wagged her finger. “You just wanted to know if she had a boyfriend, not what his name was.” She patted Emily’s thigh. “All in good time, honey. Now, I believe we have more things on my bucket list to get to, don’t we?”

Then she yanked the list out of her bag and consulted it. Emily bit down hard on the inside of her lip, trying to swallow her frustration. After all, she had no choice but to play Iris’s game.

Especially if it led to some answers. And Ali.

On Monday, Aria stood in the Rosewood Day gym. The bleachers had been folded up to make more room on the basketball court, the air smelled like rubber sneakers, and a flickering fluorescent light in the rafters was doing its best to break her concentration. The six girls on the decorations committee, all with smooth, long hair, perfectly toned bodies, and matching Tory Burch flats, stood in a circle around her, awaiting instructions. Aria knew she should be thrilled to be bossing around Typical Rosewoods, but instead she just felt on edge.