“This can’t be happening,” Aria whispered.
The only person who knew about Aria’s dad was…Alison. And she’d sworn on her grave she wouldn’t tell a soul. Was she back?
14
THAT’LL TEACH YOU TO GOOGLE-STALK WHEN YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE STUDYING
During her free period Thursday afternoon, Spencer strode into the Rosewood Day reading room. With its ceiling-high stacks of reference books, giant pedestal globe in the corner, and stained-glass window on the far wall, it was her favorite place on campus. She stood in the middle of the empty room, closed her eyes, and inhaled the old, leather-bound book smell.
Everything had gone her way today: The unusual cold snap had allowed her to wear her brand-new Marc Jacobs pale blue wool coat, the Rosewood Day café barista had made her a perfect double skim latte, she’d just aced a French oral exam, and tonight she would be moving into the barn, while Melissa had to sleep in her old, cramped bedroom.
Despite all that, an uneasy haze hung over her. It was a cross between a bothersome feeling she sometimes had when she’d forgotten to do something and the sense that someone was…well, watching her. It was obvious why she was feeling so off: that creepy “covet” e-mail. The flash of blond hair in Ali’s old window. The fact that only Ali knew about Ian…
Trying to shake it off, she sat down at the computer, adjusted the waistband of her navy blue Wolford patterned stockings, and logged on to the Internet. She began research for her upcoming AP bio project, but after scrolling through a list of Google results, she typed, Wren Kim, into the search engine.
Trolling through the results, she stifled a giggle. On a site called Mill Hill School, London, there was a photo of a longer-haired Wren standing next to a Bunsen burner and a bunch of test tubes. Another link was to Oxford University’s Corpus Christi College student portal; there was a photo of Wren looking gorgeous in Shakespearean garb, holding a skull. She hadn’t known Wren was into drama. As she tried to magnify the photo to check out the fit of his tights, someone tapped her on the shoulder.
“That your boyfriend?”
Spencer jumped, knocking her crystal-studded Sidekick cell phone to the floor. Andrew Campbell grinned awkwardly behind her.
She quickly closed the window. “Of course not!”
Andrew bent down to pick up her Sidekick, pushing a lock of straight, shoulder-length hair out of his eyes. Spencer noticed that he might actually have a chance at being cute if he cut off that lion’s mane.
“Oops,” he said, handing the Sidekick back to her. “I think a jewel thing fell off.”
Spencer grabbed it from him. “You scared me.”
“Sorry about that.” Andrew smiled. “So your boyfriend’s an actor?”
“I said he wasn’t my boyfriend!”
Andrew stepped back. “Sorry. Just making conversation.”
Spencer eyed him suspiciously.
“Anyway,” Andrew went on, hefting his North Face backpack higher on his shoulder. “I was wondering. You going to Noel’s tomorrow? I could give you a ride.”
Spencer looked at him blankly and then remembered: Noel Kahn’s field party. She’d gone to last year’s. Kids did beer funnels, and practically every girl cheated on her boyfriend. This year would be more of the same. And what—Andrew seriously thought she’d ride with him in his Mini? Would they both even fit? “Doubt it,” she said.
Andrew’s face fell. “Yeah, I guess you’re probably kind of busy.”
Spencer furrowed her brow. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Andrew shrugged. “You seem to have a lot going on. Your sister’s home, right?”
Spencer leaned back in her chair and drew her bottom lip into her mouth. “Yeah, she just got home last night. How’d you know tha—”
She stopped. Wait a second. Andrew drove his Mini up and down her street all the time. She’d seen him just yesterday, when she was at the mailbox getting her test scores….
She swallowed hard. Now that she thought about it, she might have seen his black Mini drive by the day she and Wren were in the hot tub together. He must’ve been driving it up and down her street a lot to notice Melissa was home. What if…what if Andrew was the one skulking around spying on her? What if Andrew wrote that creepy “covet” e-mail? Andrew was so competitive it seemed possible. Wouldn’t sending threatening messages be a good way to throw someone off her game and make it easier to be reelected as next year’s class president…or, even better, beat out his competition for valedictorian? And the long hair! Maybe she’d seen him in Ali’s old window?
Unbelievable! Spencer stared at Andrew incredulously.
“Is something wrong?” Andrew asked, looking concerned.
“I have to go.” She gathered up her books and walked out of the reading room.