“A surprise?” Hanna echoed weakly.
Naomi pulled a plastic bag from behind her back and took out two candy-colored wigs. “Look what I found in one of the shops on the concourse level! Won’t they be perfect for our routine tomorrow?” She plopped the blue one on Hanna’s head, then arranged the purple one on her own. “I think I know why you’re acting so weird, Hanna. You have stage fright, don’t you? You’re freaked about singing in front of all of those people. But it’s going to be great. I’ll be right next to you. Nothing can go wrong—I promise. So are you still in?”
The fruity Kate Spade perfume Naomi always wore was suddenly so overpowering that Hanna thought she might throw up. She looked down at her arm. Naomi was still gripping her wrist, and her eyes flashed, looking so much like Madison’s.
She pulled her arm away fast. “I-I have to go.”
Naomi frowned. “Why?”
Hanna stood up, her mind a blank. Her only goal was to get to the front door as quickly as possible. “S-something came up,” she stammered.
“But what about the talent show?”
Hanna glanced back just once. There was such a hurt look on Naomi’s face, but Hanna knew now it was all just a facade. “I’m sorry,” she practically whispered. Then she flung the door open, slipped into the hall, and slammed it shut before Naomi could follow her.
She was almost to the elevators when she caught sight of herself in the hall mirror. The blue wig Naomi had bought sat crookedly on her head, half of the hair sticking straight in the air, the other half sweeping across her forehead. As she reached to pull it off, something fluttered out and skidded to the floor. It looked like a receipt. On the back, something was scrawled in blue felt-tip pen. When Hanna leaned down to look closer, her heart stood still.
You can’t hide from the truth, little liar. You’re going to get what you deserve.—A
22
SHE’S MADE HER BED …
The next morning, there was a loud knock on Spencer’s door. “Spencer?” Reefer called. “Are you in there?”
“Go away,” she answered in a muffled voice. “I’m sick.”
“What’s wrong?” Reefer sounded worried. “Can I come in? Please?”
Spencer hid her face with a pillow and groaned. She’d remained in her room for as long as she possibly could. Texts had come in from Aria, Hanna, and Emily, bright and early, reporting that Hanna hadn’t yet been able to sneak on Naomi’s computer and find out anything else. Then Emily and Aria had called, asking Spencer if she wanted to run through the talent show routine one more time—the performance was that night, and they still hadn’t nailed all the dance steps. They’d stopped bugging her after she said she wasn’t feeling well, but Reefer hadn’t given up. “Pleeeease?” Reefer drawled again.
Spencer sighed, stood up, and hobbled toward the door, wincing as she put weight on her twisted ankle. The light was bright in the hall, and she squinted. Reefer’s jaw dropped when he saw her. “What happened to you?”
“What part?” Spencer turned away. “The fact that I smell like vomit, or the fact that there’s gum all through my hair?”
“All of it!” Reefer cried.
Spencer glanced at her reflection in the sunburst mirror in the hall and shuddered. It was bad enough that she’d spent the whole night vomiting because of some bad shrimp scampi she’d eaten at dinner—or, well, she assumed it was the shrimp, even though other people had eaten the same thing and hadn’t even gotten a stomachache. That morning, she’d also awakened to a huge glob of chewing gum as a brand-new hair accessory. It was going to take a miracle to get it out without chopping off all her hair.
“Someone put it in my hair in the crush to get out of the café after dinner,” Spencer said. “I turned around, and suddenly it was there.”
Reefer sat down on the desk chair, looking puzzled. “Did you see who did it?”
“No.”
“Maybe you were chewing gum before you went to sleep and forgot to take it out.”
She shook her head vehemently. “I never chew gum before bed.”
Reefer walked over to her and hugged her waist. “Maybe this is the universe’s way of telling you that we shouldn’t sneak around anymore.”
Spencer wriggled out of his grip. “We have to sneak around.”
“Still?” Reefer put his hands on his hips.
“I told you,” Spencer said. “I don’t think it’s fair for Naomi. And you said you were fine with it.”
Reefer sniffed. “I didn’t know you were going to be so serious about it.”
Then Reefer ran his hands through her hair, seemingly not grossed out by the gum. She tried to resist, but Reefer smelled like sunscreen and chlorine, and in a second, his lips were on hers and they fell onto Spencer’s bed. His skin was warm from the sun. Spencer shifted positions so she could help Reefer pull his shirt over his head.