On Tuesday afternoon, Aria walked with her head down to journalism, her last class of the day. A gust of wind whipped bits of freshly mown grass, gum wrappers, and a girl’s hair band across the Commons. For a second, when Aria looked up, she swore she saw Noel’s loping figure crossing the green.
But of course it wasn’t. At lunch today, she’d overheard a few lacrosse players mention that Noel had been released from the hospital and was chilling at home. Was he lonely? What was he watching on TV? Not that Aria would admit it to her friends, but she’d checked his Twitter incessantly. He hadn’t posted since prom night.
An ache filled her. She missed Noel like crazy. And she hated herself for it.
She also hated the strange looks people had been giving her all day. Like the way Sean Ackard was staring at her right now: sort of half pity, half fear. After a pause, Sean rushed up to her. “Here, Aria,” he said, pressing something into her hands.
Aria stared down at it. Rosewood Episcopal Youth Group Counseling for Troubled Teens.
“I’ve heard . . . ,” Sean began worriedly. “I just thought it might help.” He started to say something else, then seemed to think better of it and turned to hurry away.
Aria shut her eyes. The suicide-pact rumors again. They’d circled the school shortly after the Eco Cruise—everyone thought the girls had a death wish for heading out on a lifeboat without a proper captain. And now, for some reason, the rumors had come back with a vengeance.
Aria crumpled the flyer into a ball and turned to the barn. Just as she touched the brass doorknob, someone yanked her from behind and pulled her around the corner. She yelped in protest, only to see that it was her brother.
“I’ve been looking for you,” Mike said gruffly.
Aria lowered her eyes. Last night, when she got home from Wordsmith’s Books, where she’d been staring at the same paragraph of The Breakup Bible all night, she’d found a note in Mike’s handwriting on her bed: Hanna told me everything. We need to talk.
She’d called Hanna, furious. How could she have compromised Mike’s safety, especially after they’d agreed to keep quiet? But Hanna hadn’t answered her phone. A few minutes later, Mike had knocked on Aria’s door, but she’d thrown the covers over her head and feigned snoring. This morning, she’d ducked out of the house for an early yoga class before Mike woke up. But not even om and downward dog had been able to calm her racing thoughts.
“I get why you didn’t tell me anything,” Mike said in a low voice. “But I can help. I mean, if Noel hung out with her as much as you guys say he did, maybe I picked up something I don’t even realize.” He made a face. “I can’t believe he did that to you. That guy’s dead to me.”
Aria flinched, suddenly feeling defensive. She was grateful for her brother’s loyalty, but she hadn’t thought about Noel’s actions impacting his other relationships, too. “Look, you need to stay out of it. If this is Ali, we don’t know what she’s capable of.”
Mike furrowed his brow. “I’m not afraid of Ali. Bring it on.”
If Aria were in a different mind-set, she might have snickered. Mike’s attitude reminded her of when they were little and belonged to the Hollis outdoor pool. Mike, age five, would stand at the edge of the high diving board with his hands on his hips, proclaiming to everyone that nothing scared him. He’d never actually jump off the board, though. He’d climb back down the ladder, claiming he didn’t want to get wet and ruin his swim trunks.
Aria stared at a far-off riding mower as it made a crisscross pattern on the soccer field. Usually the scent of freshly mowed grass cheered her up, but not today. “You know what I really want? To run away. To be completely anonymous.”
“Do you really think Ali would let you do that?”
“No. And besides, everyone in this stupid country knows who I am.” Aria glanced up just as, right on cue, the Channel 4 news van pulled into the student lot. There was probably a camera aimed at her that very second.
Mike pushed his hands into his pockets. “People in other countries probably don’t, though.”
“So?”
His blue eyes met hers. “Look, I’m not saying you should go. But when I was in your room last night, I saw the pamphlet on your desk. The one about Amsterdam.”
It took Aria a few seconds to recall what he was talking about. It seemed like eons ago when she’d received the letter saying she was a finalist for an artist apprenticeship in Amsterdam. She’d written it off at the time, not wanting to be so far away from Noel.
“I don’t know,” Aria mumbled. “I probably wouldn’t get in, anyway. And traveling seems pretty daunting right now.”