Aria’s eyes widened. Ezra stared back at her. His lips parted, but no words came out.
“Mr. Poet Man?” a second voice lilted. A blond girl stepped out of the shadows and wound her arms around Ezra’s waist. Her hair was mussed, her bright lipstick was smudged, and the straps of her low-cut dress hung off her shoulders. When she saw Aria, she burst into a triumphant smile. “Oh, hallo!” she teased, squeezing Ezra harder.
Klaudia.
Aria backed away, banging into more coat hangers. Then she turned and ran.
Chapter 30
KILL HER BEFORE SHE KILLS YOU
“I must say I’m impressed.” Mr. Pennythistle swirled his dirty martini and beamed at Spencer. “That Lady Macbeth performance rivaled the Royal Shakespeare Company.”
Melissa stepped forward and gave Spencer a hug. “It was amazing.” She nudged Wilden, who nodded too. “You seemed utterly transformed! Especially for the scene where she can’t wash the blood off her hands!”
Spencer smiled shakily, pushing her heavily hair-sprayed blond hair off her neck. Dozens of people had come up to her since the play ended and told her what an amazing job she’d done, her rocky start forgotten. By the time she’d reached the Out, damned spot scene, she was fully immersed in the role, channeling all of her guilty energy into the character. She’d received the loudest applause at the end, even beating out Beau, and she’d already spoken with the videographer, asking him to edit out her first disastrous scene. The rest of her performance would make the perfect package for Princeton.
But now she felt off-kilter again, all because of the conversation she’d just had with Emily. She hadn’t meant to lash out at her, but Emily needed to understand. She was dying to apologize, but Emily was nowhere to be seen. She couldn’t find Kelsey, either.
A woman with dark hair and a long, thin face appeared next to Spencer. “Lady Macbeth?” She extended her hand. “I’m Jennifer Williams, from the Philadelphia Sentinel. Mind if we do an interview and some pictures?”
Mrs. Hastings’s eyes lit up. “How exciting, Spence!” Even Amelia looked impressed.
Spencer said good-bye to her family, even giving Mr. Pennythistle an awkward little hug. As she wove through the crowd, drama kids, girls she knew from field hockey, and even Naomi, Riley, and Kate clapped her on the back and told her she’d done an amazing job. She scanned the room for Emily, but she still didn’t see her.
The reporter led Spencer to a booth at the back. Beau was already waiting with a small cup of espresso. He’d changed out of his armor and into a black cashmere sweater and the sexiest fitted corduroys Spencer had ever seen on a guy. She sat next to him, and Beau squeezed her hand. “How about we sneak out of this party after the interview is done?”
Just feeling Beau’s hand in hers steadied Spencer’s nerves. She raised an eyebrow in mock disapproval. “Does Mr. Yale Drama dare ditch out on his own cast party? I would’ve thought you’d want to hang around and listen to people kiss your ass.”
“I’m full of surprises.” Beau winked.
Jennifer Williams slid into the booth across from them and flipped her notepad to a fresh page. As she looked at Beau and asked him the first question, Spencer’s cell phone beeped. Spencer reached into her pocket. There were at least twenty texts on her phone from people congratulating her. The latest text, however, was from a jumble of letters and numbers.
Spencer swallowed a lump in her throat, slouched down in the booth, covered the screen, and pressed READ.
You hurt both of us. Now I’m going to hurt you. –A
Attached was a photograph of a blond girl in a goldenrod-colored sundress lying on her stomach on a beach at night. Her head was turned to the side, and there was a huge gash at her temple. Blood trickled down her chin and onto the sand. The waves crashed ominously near her head, ready to wash her away.
The phone dropped to Spencer’s lap. It was a picture of Tabitha just after Aria had pushed her off the roof. Neither Spencer nor the others had seen her on the ground—it had been too dark, and her body had disappeared by the time they got down to the beach.
But someone had seen. And photographed it. Kelsey.
A tortured noise escaped from Spencer’s throat. Jennifer Williams looked up from her notes. “Are you okay?”
“I . . .” Spencer pushed out of the booth, feeling dizzy. She needed to get out of here. She needed to hide. The reporter called for her, but she couldn’t turn back. She fumbled toward the exit. Every face she passed looked warped and crazed, even dangerous. She burst through the back door, emerging into an empty alley. A line of metal garbage cans stood by the wall. The overpowering scent of rotting vegetables and meat roiled Spencer’s stomach. It was eerily quiet out here, a sharp contrast to the raucous atmosphere inside the restaurant.
“Hey.”
Spencer turned and saw Kelsey standing at the back door. Her eyes were narrowed. Her mouth was a pale line. Spencer gasped. She wanted to run, but her limbs wouldn’t move.
Kelsey placed her hands on her hips. “Did you get my text?”
Spencer let out a tiny whimper. The image of Tabitha, dead on the sand, swam before her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered.
“You’re so sick,” Kelsey hissed, her eyes round. “Did you really think you were going to get away with it?”
Spencer’s heart leapt to her throat. “I’m—”
“You’re what?” Kelsey cocked her head. “You’re sorry? Sorry doesn’t cut it, Spencer.”
She grabbed Spencer’s elbow hard. Spencer wrenched away, desperate to get free, but Kelsey let out a frustrated noise and tackled Spencer against the brick wall. Spencer yelled out, her voice echoing through the alley. Suddenly, a hideous, jumbled mix of all the visions that had appeared to Spencer over the past few days swirled through her mind. She saw Tabitha leering at her from the Rosewood Day stage. She saw Kelsey advancing toward her in the creek, ready to drown her.
“You can’t get away from me,” the Kelsey in her dreams had said. Or maybe it was the real Kelsey, here now. “You deserve to pay for what you did.”
“No!” Spencer screamed, smacking Kelsey hard.
Kelsey wheeled back, but then lunged for Spencer again. Panicked, Spencer thrust her hands out and wrapped them around Kelsey’s neck and squeezed harder and harder, feeling the tendons give way, feeling the air stop in her throat, feeling the delicate bones break. It was the only option. She had to stop Kelsey before Kelsey hurt her.
“Jesus!” a voice called. Spencer felt a fist in her spine. Her feet slipped out from under her, and her hands flailed at her sides. All at once, she was on her back on the ground. Various cast members stood above her, their mouths triangles of shock. Behind them, a second group of people clustered around a sobbing girl. Kelsey was bent over, gasping for air.
Spencer sat up. “Don’t let her get away!” she screeched. “She’s trying to kill me!”
Everyone stared at her. “What is she talking about?” a voice cried.
“I saw her lash out at that girl for no reason!” someone else said.
“It’s the play,” Pierre’s voice called from the back. “It’s taken over her mind.”
“She’s insane!” a familiar voice screeched. It was Kelsey.
The crowd parted, giving Spencer a clear view of Kelsey’s face. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Her chest heaved in and out, frantic for air. One of the waiters was helping her to her feet. A few more people guided her down the alley toward the parking lot.
“Wait!” Spencer cried feebly. “Don’t let her go! She’s A!”
Beau crouched down. “You’ve had a long night,” he said a bit gruffly. “Maybe you should go before you make more of a scene.”