Sara Shepard: Unbelievable

Finally, Ali grabbed Hanna’s wrists and dragged her off the table. “Stop it,” she whispered. “You’re making a big deal over nothing.”

“A big deal over nothing ?” Hanna protested. “Ali, you’re going to die tomorrow. You’re going to run out of the barn during our sleepover and just…disappear.”

“No, Hanna, listen. I’m not.”

A clammy feeling washed over Hanna. Ali was staring right into her eyes. “You’re…not?” she stammered.

Ali touched Hanna’s hand. It was a comforting caress, the kind of gesture Hanna’s father used to make when she was sick. “Don’t worry,” Ali said softly in Hanna’s ear. “I’m okay.”

Her voice sounded so close. So real. Hanna blinked and opened her eyes, but she wasn’t in Ali’s yard anymore. She was in a white room, flat on her back. Harsh fluorescent lights hung over her. She heard beeping somewhere to her left, and the steady hiss of a machine, in and out, in and out.

A blurry figure swam over her. The girl had a heart-shaped face, bright blue eyes, and brilliant white teeth. She slowly caressed Hanna’s hand. Hanna struggled to focus. It looked like…

“I’m okay,” Ali’s voice said again, her breath hot against Hanna’s cheek. Hanna gasped. Her fists opened and closed. She struggled to hold on to this moment, to this realization, but then everything faded out—all sound, all smells, the feeling of Ali’s hand touching hers. Then there was only darkness.

Late Sunday afternoon, after Aria left the hospital—Hanna’s condition hadn’t changed—she walked up the uneven porch steps of the Old Hollis house where Ezra lived. Ezra’s bottom-floor apartment was just two blocks away from the house Byron now shared with Meredith, and Aria wasn’t quite ready to go there yet. She didn’t expect Ezra to be home, but she’d written him a letter, telling him where she’d be living, and that she hoped they could talk. As she struggled to fit the note through Ezra’s mailbox slot, she heard a creak behind her.

“Aria.” Ezra emerged in the foyer, wearing faded jeans and a tomato-colored Gap T-shirt. “What are you doing?”

“I was…” Aria’s voice was taut with emotion. She held up the note, which had crumpled a little during her attempt to shove it in the mailbox. “I was going to give this to you. It just said to call me.” She took a tentative step toward Ezra, afraid to touch him. He smelled exactly as he had last night, when Aria was last here—a little like Scotch, a little like moisturizer. “I didn’t think you’d be here,” Aria sputtered. “Are you okay?”

“Well, I didn’t have to spend the night in jail, which was good.” Ezra laughed, then frowned. “But…I’m fired. Your boyfriend told the school staff everything—he had pictures of us to prove it. Everyone would rather keep it quiet, so unless you press charges, it’s not going to go on my record.” He hooked his thumb around one of his belt loops. “I’m supposed to go there tomorrow and clean out my office. I guess you guys are going to have a new teacher for the rest of the year.”

Aria pressed her hands to her face. “I am so, so sorry.” She grabbed Ezra’s hand. At first, Ezra resisted her touch, but he slowly sighed and gave in. He brought her close to him and kissed her hard, and Aria kissed back like she’d never kissed before. Ezra slid his arms under the clasp of her bra. Aria grabbed at his shirt, tearing it off. It didn’t matter that they were outside or that a group of bong-smoking college kids were staring at them from the porch next door. Aria kissed Ezra’s bare neck, and Ezra circled his arms around her waist.

But when they heard a police car siren whoop, they shot apart, startled.

Aria ducked behind the basket-weave porch wall. Ezra crouched beside her, his face flushed. Slowly, a police car rolled past Ezra’s house. The cop was on his cell phone, not paying any attention to them.

When Aria turned back to Ezra, the sexy mood had fizzled. “Come on in,” Ezra said, pulling his shirt back on and walking into his apartment. Aria followed him, stepping around his front door, which still hung off its hinges from when the cops had knocked it down yesterday. The apartment smelled as it usually did, like dust and Kraft macaroni and cheese.

“I could try and find you another job,” Aria suggested. “Maybe my father needs an assistant. Or he could pull some strings at Hollis.”

“Aria…” There was a surrendering look on Ezra’s face. And then, Aria noticed the U-Haul boxes behind him. The bathtub that sat in the middle of the living room had been emptied of all its books. The blobby blue candles on the mantel were gone. And Bertha, the French maid blow-up doll some friends had bought for Ezra as a joke back in college, was no longer perched on one of the kitchen chairs. In fact, most of Ezra’s personal artifacts were missing. Only a few lonely, junky pieces of furniture remained.

A cold, clammy feeling washed over her. “You’re leaving.”

“I have a cousin who lives in Providence,” Ezra mumbled into his chest. “I’m going to go up there for a while. Clear my head. Take some pottery classes at Rhode Island School of Design. I don’t know.”

“Take me with you,” Aria blurted out. She walked up to Ezra and pulled on the hem of his shirt. “I’ve always wanted to go to RISD. It’s my first-choice school. Maybe I could apply early.” She raised her eyes to Ezra again. “I’m moving in with my father and Meredith—which is pretty much a fate worse than death. And…and I’ve never felt like I do when I’m around you. I’m not sure I ever will again.”

Ezra squeezed his eyes shut, swinging Aria’s hands back and forth. “I think you should look me up in a couple years. Because, I mean, I feel that way about you, too. But I have to get out of here. You know it, and I know it.”

Aria dropped his hands. She felt like someone had opened up her chest and removed her heart. Just last night, for a few hours, everything had been perfect. And then Sean—and A—had ripped it all apart again.

“Hey,” Ezra said, noting the tears spilling down Aria’s cheeks. He pulled her into him and held her tight. “It’s okay.” He peered into one of his boxes, then handed her his William Shakespeare bobblehead. “I want you to have this.”

Aria gave him a tiny smile. “Seriously?” The first time she’d come here, after Noel Kahn’s party back in the beginning of September, Ezra had told her the bobblehead was one of his favorite possessions.

Ezra traced the line of Aria’s jaw with the tip of his pointer finger, starting at her chin and ending at her earlobe. Shivers went up her spine. “Really,” he whispered.

She could feel his eyes on her as she turned for the door. “Aria,” he called, just as she was stepping over a big pile of old phone books to get out into the hall.

She stopped, her heart lifting. There was a wise, calm look on Ezra’s face. “You’re the strongest girl I’ve ever met,” he said. “So just…screw ’em, you know? You’ll be fine.”

Ezra leaned down, sealing up boxes with clear packing tape. Aria backed out of the apartment in a daze, wondering why he’d suddenly turned all guidance counselor on her. It was like he was saying that he was the adult, with responsibilities and consequences, and she was just a kid, her whole life in front of her.

Which was exactly what she didn’t want to hear right then.

“Aria! Welcome!” Meredith cried. She stood at the edge of the kitchen, wearing a black-and-white striped apron—which Aria was trying to imagine as a prison uniform—and a cow-shaped oven mitt covered her right hand. She was grinning like a shark about to swallow a minnow.