Vicious

“So,” Melissa said as she pulled out several different brands of bottles. “The trial was kind of encouraging today, huh?”

 

 

Spencer nodded, too afraid to speak. Everyone was abuzz about how Rubens had cross-examined Nick that day. Some reporters were saying it was a major turning point in the case, but still others continued to be focused on Reginald’s version of the facts and all of the character-assassinating things Spencer and the others had done in the past few years.

 

The whole thing made Spencer feel jittery. She wanted to hold on to hope, but maybe that was foolish. Maybe it was better to stick with her original plan: Get the hell out of here before the final verdict was passed down.

 

“And I heard about Aria, too,” Melissa added.

 

Spencer ran her fingers along a beige-and-white-striped romper. Aria’s plane had landed at the Philly airport about an hour ago. A TV camera had tried to catch Aria disembarking, but a police escort had held his hand toward the screen, shielding her.

 

“I wish they’d never found her,” Spencer said softly. It was weird: When Aria had first taken off, Spencer had been so annoyed—that Aria had accomplished what she’d wanted to do, but also that she’d left them to handle the trial alone. But as the week progressed, her anger had given way to acceptance. Maybe one of them deserved freedom. It was scary to imagine what Aria had been through overseas—and what Aria might face now that she was back. The news was that she’d receive double the sentence because she’d run off.

 

The side door opened, and Mrs. Hastings burst through carrying a bunch of grocery bags in her hands. Spencer rushed over to help, but her mother brushed her off. “I’m fine,” she snapped, giving Spencer a strange look.

 

Spencer recoiled. Her mother was still staring at her. “What?” Spencer finally asked.

 

Mrs. Hastings dropped a bag on the kitchen table. “Perhaps you can explain why Wren Kim is in the driveway, asking for you?” Spencer’s mouth dropped open. She and Wren hadn’t made plans, though it was kind of exciting that he was here. Then again, her mom looked so furious. “You’re not supposed to leave the house,” Mrs. Hastings added. “Especially not with him.”

 

“Mom,” Melissa said softly from the island. “Let Spencer go. It’s not going to hurt anything. Let her have some fun—hasn’t she been through enough?”

 

Both Spencer and Mrs. Hastings whirled around and stared at Melissa. Spencer wanted to run over and give her a huge hug. After a beat, Mrs. Hastings sighed and began jerkily removing the groceries. “Fine,” she spat. “If that’s how you’d like to spend your last few days, be my guest.”

 

Spencer bit the inside of her cheek. Thanks for the vote of confidence, Mom. It sounded like she was pretty sure Spencer was headed to jail.

 

She ran a tube of lipstick over her lips, smoothed her button-down, and hurried out the front door. Sure enough, Wren was standing on the front porch, hands shoved into his pockets. His whole face lit up when he saw her, and Spencer felt her insides sparkle. Wren’s dark hair was pushed off his face, his sharp cheekbones were especially prominent, and his trim body looked good in a vintage-style corduroy jacket and narrow-cut jeans. All of the feelings of attraction that she’d been trying to suppress suddenly let loose inside her. She wanted him. She really did. And what was amazing was that she could have him.

 

“Hey,” he said shyly, holding out a bouquet of lilies.

 

“H-hi,” she answered back, taking the flowers and hugging them to her chest.

 

Wren’s throat bobbed as he swallowed. “I was hoping to take you somewhere tonight. For dinner, maybe?” He looked around. “Somewhere off the property? But, um, I wasn’t sure if I should come inside.” He made a face. “Your mom seemed kind of angry.”

 

Spencer rolled her eyes. “She’ll be fine. Let’s get out of here,” she agreed, grabbing her purse. But as he took her arm and led her to his car, her spirits suddenly plunged. Saturday night, 10 PM sharp, Angela had told her. That was . . . tomorrow. In twenty-four hours, she’d never see Wren again.

 

She decided not to think about it.

 

As they swung into Wren’s car, she turned to him and smiled. “You know, there are a few things I wouldn’t mind doing this evening, if you’re game.”

 

He looked at her and grinned. “I’m up for anything,” he answered. “As long as it’s with you.”

 

And off they went.

 

Sara Shepard's books