“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.”
Spencer shook her head feverishly. How could he not get it? But when she looked at Beau’s freaked-out face, she understood: Somehow, it looked like this had been all her fault. To them, she’d attacked an innocent girl.
“Freak,” someone whispered.
“She needs to be checked into a mental institution,” someone else said.
A woman chased after Kelsey and touched her shoulder. “You should press charges. She assaulted you.”
Slowly, people began to move away from Spencer. After a moment, only Beau remained standing above her, staring at Spencer like he suddenly had no idea who she was.
“That girl is dangerous,” Spencer whispered to him. “You believe me, don’t you?”
Beau blinked at her. She wished he’d help her up, give her a big hug, and say he’d protect her. But instead, he backed away with the others. “I’m all for getting into character, Spencer, but you’ve taken it too far.”
He turned around and disappeared back into the restaurant. Spencer wanted to call out, but she felt too disoriented to do so. Then she looked at Kelsey, slowly hobbling out of the alley. After a moment, Kelsey spun around and glanced at Spencer once more. She lifted a pointer finger and slid it evenly across her throat, then pointed straight at Spencer. She mouthed something very distinctly, her lips moving slowly over each word to make sure Spencer understood.
You’re dead.
Chapter 31
EMILY FOLLOWS HER HEART
“Kelsey?” Emily pushed through the crowd, which had gotten even more packed since the party had begun an hour ago. When she turned a corner into one of the smaller dining rooms, everyone was gathered in a thick cluster, murmuring and staring as if something had just happened. Naomi, Riley, Kate, and Klaudia whispered heatedly. A cute, dark-haired guy was standing with them, and Emily did a double take. Was that Mr. Fitz, the old English teacher?
Emily had lost Kelsey as soon as she’d left the bathroom and hadn’t been able to find her since. Was Kelsey angry with Emily for knowing what Spencer had done but not saying anything?
Emily rushed past a large poster of Beau and Spencer’s portraits as Macbeth and Lady Macbeth, and a guilty twinge twisted her gut. Spencer. Once upon a time, Emily had been fiercely loyal to her friends—it was why Her Ali used to call her “Killer.” Spencer had said some terrible things, but did that really warrant Emily outing her secret to Spencer’s enemy? Suddenly, a memory popped into her head: One night last summer, after her job at Poseidon’s, she’d gotten off the subway and spotted Spencer on the street corner, talking with a guy in a black beanie hat.
“Phineas, you’ve got to get me more,” Spencer begged.
The guy, Phineas, just shrugged. Emily had tried to get a good look at him—Spencer had mentioned him countless times—but he was standing in the shadows, his shoulders hunched. He said something Emily couldn’t hear.
“I wish you hadn’t turned me on to this in the first place,” Spencer said. “It’s ruined me.”
Phineas held up his hands helplessly. When Spencer’s shoulders started to shake, he didn’t comfort her.
Emily ducked around the corner, astonished. Spencer seemed so . . . weak. Overwhelmed. In trouble. Emily knew she should do something, make her presence known, throw her arms around Spencer and help her, but all she could think of was her scandalous pregnant belly. She didn’t want Spencer to see. It was just too horrifying.
Now, that reaction felt ridiculous. Spencer had found out Emily’s condition in the end—she, along with their other friends, had helped her when she had needed them most. If Emily had gone to Spencer in that moment, would she have gotten arrested? Would Kelsey have gone to juvie? Could Emily have prevented that horrible trajectory?
Suddenly, Aria’s face swam into view, breaking Emily from her thoughts. “I’ve been looking for you. Where have you been?”
Emily made a vague gesture. “Around. Listen, have you seen . . .” She was about to say Kelsey but stopped. “. . . Spencer?”
A strange look came over Aria’s face. “Didn’t you see what happened?”
Emily glanced into the shaken crowd again. “No . . .”
“I saw the tail end of it.” Aria’s eyes were wide. “But Spencer freaked. She attacked someone. I think it was that girl she’s convinced is A—Kelsey. She’s here.”
“Oh my God.” It was because of what Emily said about Spencer—Emily knew it. “Is anyone hurt?”
Aria shook her head. “But we need to find Spencer. Maybe she had a good reason to lash out like that.”
Emily stared around the room again. Suddenly, she saw a redheaded girl near the door, receiving her jacket from the coat-check girl. Kelsey.
She touched Aria’s arm. “I’ll be right back.”
Aria frowned. “Where are you going?”
“I’ll just be a sec.” Emily maneuvered awkwardly through the crowd of kids. By the time she got to Kelsey, Kelsey’s hand was on the front door. “Are you leaving?” Emily said breathlessly.
Kelsey turned and gave Emily a frazzled, almost puzzled look, as if she couldn’t exactly place who Emily was. Her lips were cracked, and her eyes bulged unnaturally. “Uh, yeah. I guess cast parties aren’t really my thing.”
“Did something happen?” Emily’s voice rose in pitch. “Did you talk to Spencer? You’re not mad at me, are you? For knowing? For not saying anything? I didn’t know how to tell you, but I should have.”
Kelsey’s lips parted. A muscle in her cheek twitched violently. Even though it was chilly in the coat-check area, beads of sweat had formed on her forehead. Wordlessly, she turned and started out the door to the parking lot.
“Where are you going?” Emily followed after her.
“Anywhere but here.” Kelsey stopped at her car and unlocked it with two sharp bleats. She pointed to the passenger side. “If you want to come, get in.”
Emily let out a long, relieved breath. She glanced back toward the restaurant, wondering if she should tell Aria where she was going. But Aria was looking for Spencer, and Emily doubted Spencer would want to see her right now. Emily wasn’t sure she was ready to see Spencer, either.
“I’m coming,” Emily said. She wrenched the door open and slid into the bucket seat.
Kelsey gave Emily a quick, twitchy grin. “Good,” she whispered, and then pulled out into the dark night.
Chapter 32
NOT YOUR USUAL FLYER ON THE DASHBOARD
The clock on the dashboard of Hanna’s Prius said 9:08 when Hanna and Liam pulled into Otto for the Macbeth cast party. Hanna shifted into park, and Liam brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Are you sure you have to go in there?”
“I’m sure.” Hanna rubbed his neck. “It’s bad enough I didn’t go to the play. I’m going to have to lie and tell my dad I sat in the back or something. What do the witches do, anyway? Just in case my dad quizzes me.”
“They bring Macbeth a prophesy.” Liam traced his finger up Hanna’s bare arm. For their secret date tonight, she was wearing a brand-new silky minidress from Otter that showed off lots of skin. They’d gone to the college theater in Hollis and made out in the back seats. “They tell him he’s going to be king and give him all kinds of other creepy warnings,” Liam went on. “And they do a lot of cackling.”
Hanna touched the tip of his nose. “I love how sexy you sound when you talk about Shakespeare.”
“Well I love everything about you,” Liam answered, kissing her lips.
Hanna’s insides swirled. Had he just said he loved her?
After six more kisses good-bye, Hanna kicked Liam out of the car—he’d parked his own in the church lot across the street a few hours earlier. She watched him lope across Lancaster Avenue, shivering with pleasure. Then she climbed out of the Prius and crossed the parking lot toward the restaurant. A Toyota hatchback pulled out in front of her, seemingly not noticing she was there.
“Hey!” Hanna yelled at the vehicle, jumping out of the way. A familiar face stared at her from the passenger seat. “Emily?” Next to Emily was a red-haired girl Hanna knew she’d seen before, too. But where?
The car peeled out of the parking lot before Hanna could figure it out. Turning, she walked into the restaurant, which was filled with kids and smelled like roasted garlic and fresh bread. There were so many people jamming the door that Hanna nearly fell into someone on her way to the coatroom. “Watch it,” the person snapped when Hanna accidentally elbowed his back.
“Watch it yourself,” Hanna snapped. Then the figure turned. It was Mike.
Hanna stepped back. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey.” Mike blinked hard, looking startled. This was the closest Hanna had been to him in weeks. He still smelled like the Kiehl’s cucumber hand lotion she’d bought him for Christmas. “How . . . are you?”
Hanna raised an eyebrow. “So you’re speaking to me again?”
Mike shifted awkwardly. “I’ve been kind of . . . stupid.” He glanced at her imploringly, then touched his hand to her wrist. “I miss you.”
Hanna stared at his long, thin fingers, suddenly annoyed. Why couldn’t Mike have come to this conclusion a week ago when Hanna was leaving him those messages? Was Mike only interested in Hanna again because her messages had stopped? That was so like guys.
