The following day, the bell rang in Art History class, and all twenty-two students stood en masse. “Read chapter eight for tomorrow!” Mrs. Kittinger called after them.
Aria shoved her books into her backpack and followed the herd out the door. As soon as she was in the hallway, she glanced at her cell phone, which had been blinking for the last hour. New Google alert for Tabitha Clark, said the screen.
Her stomach twisted. She’d been tracking Tabitha-related news, reading accounts of bereft friends, grieving relatives, and angry parents protesting drunken spring break trips. Today, there was a story in a newspaper. The headline read FATHER OF DECEASED SPRING BREAK TEEN TO SUE JAMAICAN RESORT THAT SERVED HIS DAUGHTER ALCOHOL.
She clicked on the link. There was a picture of Tabitha’s father, Kenneth Clark, a tall, bespectacled man who was a captain of industry. He wanted to crack down on teenage drinking and punish bars that served underage drinkers. “I’d be curious to know what her blood-alcohol level was when she died,” he said. There was also a quote from Graham Pratt, who’d been Tabitha’s boyfriend when she died. “I think it’s very possible The Cliffs resort served her, even though she was visibly drunk.”
Whoa. What if Tabitha’s family and friends somehow found out Tabitha hadn’t died from an alcohol overdose? Aria’s throat felt dry, and her heart started to pound. It was hard enough getting through the day without thinking about the innocent girl falling to her death—she hardly slept some nights, and she wasn’t eating much. But if Tabitha’s father found out, if the police linked it to them, if Aria’s friends’ lives were ruined because of something she technically did . . . well, she wouldn’t know how to go on.
“Aria?”
Aria whirled around and saw Emily behind her. She was wearing a Rosewood swim-team parka, skinny black jeans, and had a curious look on her round, pleasant, freckled face.
“Um, hi.” Aria slipped the phone into her pocket. There was no use showing this to Emily and getting her worried over what was probably nothing. “What’s up?”
“I was wondering if you were going to Hanna’s dad’s town hall meeting on Tuesday.” Emily moved out of the way as some guys on the crew team shouldered past. “She asked if I’d be there.”
“Yep.” Aria had already told Hanna she’d attend her dad’s political events. “Want to sit together?”
“That would be nice.” Emily gave Aria a small, watery smile that Aria recognized instantly. Back when they were part of Ali’s clique, Aria had dubbed it Emily’s Eeyore smile. She’d seen it on Emily’s face a lot after Their Ali disappeared.
“What’s the matter, Em?” Aria said softly.
Emily stared at her gray New Balance sneakers. Behind her, a bunch of sophomore boys shoved each other playfully. Kirsten Cullen gazed into the trophy case glass, fixing her lipstick. “I drove by that house on Ship Lane yesterday,” Emily finally said.
Aria blinked, remembering Ship Lane’s significance. “How did it go?”
Emily swallowed hard. “There was a FOR SALE sign on the lawn, and the house looked empty. They moved.” Her jaw trembled like she was going to cry.
“Oh, Em.” Aria wrapped her arms around her friend. Words couldn’t describe how shocked she’d felt last summer when Emily told her she was pregnant. She’d called Aria out of the blue and begged her not to tell the others. I’ve got it under control, she’d said. I’ve picked out a family for the baby once it’s born. I just had to tell someone.
“I wish I knew why they left,” Emily murmured.
“It makes sense, don’t you think?” Aria asked. “I mean, they suddenly had a baby. It probably looked strange to the neighbors. Maybe they moved to avoid questions.”
Emily considered this. “Where do you think they went?”
“Why don’t we try to find out?” Aria suggested. “Maybe the realtor knows.”
Emily’s eyes lit up. “The FOR SALE sign did say there’s an open house this weekend.”
“If you want company, I’ll go with you,” Aria offered.
“Really?” Emily looked relieved.
“Of course.”
“Thank you.” Emily threw her arms around Aria again and squeezed her tight. Aria squeezed back, grateful that they were close again. They’d spent so much time avoiding each other, shying away from the secrets they shared, but it hadn’t done them much good. It was better to fight A together. Plus, Aria missed having good friends.
Aria’s cell phone rang, and Emily broke away, saying she had to get to class. As she drifted down the hall, Aria looked at the screen and frowned. Call from Meredith. It was unusual for her father’s fiancée to be calling her.
“Aria?” Meredith said when Aria answered. “Oh my God, I’m so glad I caught you.” In the background, Meredith and Byron’s toddler, Lola, was wailing. There were also sounds of banging pots and shattering dishes. “I really need your help,” she went on. “I want to re-create this amazing pasta dish we had at an Italian restaurant in Philly for your dad tonight, but I just went to Fresh Fields, and they’re out of tatsoi. The Fresh Fields in Bryn Mawr has it, but I can’t go right now—Lola’s super-fussy and I don’t want to make it worse by lugging her out in public. Can you go for me after school?”
Aria slumped against the wall and stared absently at a poster reminding seniors to sign up for shore excursions on the upcoming Eco Cruise. “Can’t you make it tomorrow?” Bryn Mawr wasn’t exactly close.
“I really need it tonight.”
“Why?” Aria asked. “Does Byron have visiting professors in town or something?”
Meredith made an uncomfortable noise at the back of her throat. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter.”
Now Aria was curious. “Seriously. What’s the occasion?”
Another long pause. Meredith sighed. “Okay, it’s the anniversary of our first kiss.”
Nausea rippled through Aria’s gut. “Oh,” she said nastily. Her parents had still been married when Byron and Meredith had their first kiss.
“You asked!” Meredith protested. “I didn’t want to tell you!”
Aria shoved her free hand into her blazer pocket. If Meredith really wanted to keep it from her, then why had she called up Aria in the first place?
“Aria?” Meredith’s voice rang through the phone. “Are you there? Look, I’m sorry I told you. But I really do need your help. Can you do this for me just this once?”
Lola started to wail even louder in the background, and Aria shut her eyes. Even though she didn’t support this anniversary, the more stressed out Meredith was, the more Lola would suffer. Saying no would probably get back to Byron, too, and she’d never hear the end of it.
“Fine,” she said as the second bell rang. “Except you have to tell me what tatsoi is.”
A few hours later, Aria pulled into Fresh Fields in Bryn Mawr. The town was about ten miles away, had a small liberal-arts college, an art house theater that produced avant-garde plays, and an old inn that with a sign that said GEORGE WASHINGTON SLEPT HERE. The cars in the grocery store’s parking lot were covered with bumper stickers beseeching people to SAVE THE WHALES, GO GREEN, LIVE IN PEACE, and KILL YOUR TELEVISION.
After passing through the grocery store’s automatic doors and between at least thirty barrels of olives, she headed to the greens section of the produce department. Apparently, tatsoi was like spinach. Why Meredith couldn’t have just used spinach for the stupid let’s-celebrate-our-affair dinner was beyond her.
The whole thing still made Aria squeamish. She’d been the one who caught Byron and Meredith kissing in a back alley in seventh grade. Byron had begged her not to say anything to Ella, and even though Aria wanted to tell, she’d thought that by keeping her dad’s secret, her parents would stay together.