Flawless

“So?” Aria asked.



Spencer took a deep breath. “I think…I think maybe Toby’s going to try to hurt her. I think he wants to hurt all of us.”



The girls looked shocked. “Why?” Aria demanded, her hands on her hips.



Spencer looked at the ground. Her stomach felt tight. “I think A is Toby.”



“What makes you think that?” Aria looked angry.



“A sent me a note,” she admitted. “It says we’re all in danger.”



“You got a note?” Hanna shrieked. “I thought we were going to tell each other!”



“I know.” Spencer stared at her pointy Louboutins. Back inside the tent, some of the boys were having a break-dancing contest. Noel Kahn was trying to do a kickworm, and Mason Byers was doing some sort of butt-spin. Wasn’t this supposed to be a civilized function? “I didn’t know what to do. I…I actually got two notes. The first one said that it would be better if I didn’t tell you guys. But the second one really sounded like it was Toby…and now Toby’s here with Emily, and—”



“Wait, the first note said we were in trouble, and you did nothing?” Hanna asked. She didn’t sound angry, exactly, just confused.



“I wasn’t sure it was for real,” Spencer said. She ran her hand through her hair. “I mean, if I’d known—”



“You know, I got a note too,” Aria said softly.



Spencer blinked at her. “You did? Was it about Toby too?”



“No…” Aria seemed to consider her words. “Spencer, why were you at that yoga studio Friday?”



“Yoga studio?” Spencer narrowed her eyes. “What does that have to do with…?”



“It was a little too much of a coincidence,” Aria went on.



“What are you talking about?” Spencer cried.



Hanna interrupted. “Aria, was your note about Sean?”



“No.” Aria turned to Hanna and creased her brow.



“Well, I’m sorry!” Hanna spat. “I got a text from A, too, and it was about Sean! It said that he was at Foxy with another girl…you!”



“You guys…” Spencer warned, not wanting to get into this argument again. Then she knit her eyebrows together. “Wait. When did you get a text, Hanna?”



“Earlier tonight.”



“So, that means…” Aria pointed at Hanna. “If your note from A said Sean was at Foxy with me, it meant A saw us. Which means—”



“A is at Foxy. I know,” Hanna finished, giving Aria a tight smile.



Spencer’s heart pounded. It was really happening. A was here…and A was Toby.



“Come on.” Spencer led them into the long, narrow hall that led to the auction room. By day, the hall was stuffy and very Philadelphia, with tons of Mission end tables, oily portraits of grumpy, rich men, and creaky wood floors, but by night, each table held an aromatherapy candle, and the wainscoting was decorated with different-colored lights. As the girls paused under a blue bulb, they looked like corpses.



“Run this by me again, Spencer,” Aria said slowly. “Your first note said that you shouldn’t tell us. But shouldn’t tell us what? That you got a note? That A was Toby?”



“No…” Spencer turned to face them. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you what I knew. About The Jenna Thing.”



Horror crossed the girls’ faces. Here it comes, Spencer thought. She took a deep breath. “The truth is…Toby saw Ali light that firework. He’s known all along.”



Aria stepped back and bumped into a table. A piece of pottery wavered, then fell off, shattering all over the wood floor. No one moved to clean it up.



“You’re lying,” Hanna whispered.



“I wish I was.”



“What do you mean, Toby saw?” Aria’s voice was quivery. “Ali said he didn’t.”



Spencer wrung her hands together. “He told me he saw. Me and Ali, actually.”



Her friends blinked at her, stunned.



“The night Jenna got hurt, when I ran out to see what was going on, Toby came up to Ali and me. He said he saw Ali…do it.” Spencer’s voice was trembling. She’d had nightmares so many times about this very moment; it was surreal to be in it.



“Ali stepped in,” she went on. “She told Toby she’d seen him do something…awful…and she was going to tell everyone. The only way she wouldn’t was if Toby took the blame. Before Toby ran off he said, I’ll get you. But the next day, he confessed.”



Spencer ran her hand along the back of her neck. Saying this out loud transported her right back to that night. She could smell the sulfur from the lit firework, and the freshly mown grass. She could see Ali, her blond hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing the pearl teardrop earrings she’d gotten for her eleventh birthday. Tears came to her eyes.



Spencer swallowed and continued. “The second note A sent me said, You hurt me, so I’m going to hurt you, and that he was going to show up when we least expected it. A cop came to my house this morning, too, asking me about Ali again, and this cop was grilling me, acting like I knew something I shouldn’t. I thought Toby might’ve been behind it. Now he’s brought Emily here. I’m afraid he might hurt her.”



It took Aria and Hanna a long time to respond. Finally, Aria’s hands started shaking. A deep red patch crept up her neck into her cheeks. “Why didn’t you tell us before?” She squinted uncertainly at Spencer, searching for words. “I mean, there was that time, in seventh grade, when I was alone with Toby, at that drama thing! He could’ve hurt me…or all of us…and if he really hurt Ali, we could’ve helped save her!”



“I feel sick,” Hanna moaned distantly.



Tears ran down Spencer’s cheeks. “I wanted to tell you guys, but I was scared.”



“What did Ali say to blackmail Toby so he wouldn’t tell?” Aria demanded.



“Ali wouldn’t say,” Spencer lied. She felt superstitious about telling Toby’s secret, as if as soon as she said it, a bolt of lightning would descend through the skylight…or Toby would appear, supernaturally having heard everything.



Aria stared at her hands. “Toby’s known all along,” she repeated again.



“And now he’s…back.” Hanna looked positively green.



“He’s not only back,” Spencer said. “He’s here. And he’s A.”



Aria grabbed Hanna’s arm. “Come on.”



“Where are you going?” Spencer called nervously. She didn’t want Aria out of her sight.



Aria turned halfway around. “We have to find Emily,” she said angrily. She picked up the hem of her dress and started running.



30



CORNFIELDS ARE THE SCARIEST PLACE IN ROSEWOOD



Emily had shoved herself into a little back alcove on the Kingman Hall terrace and was quietly watching all of the Foxy smokers. The girls in their frilly, pastel dresses, the boys in their elegant suits. But who was she watching more? She wasn’t sure. She shut her eyes tight, then opened them fast, and the first person she noticed was Tara Kelley, a Rosewood Day senior. She had bright red hair and beautiful, pale skin. Emily gritted her teeth and shut her eyes again. When she opened them, she saw Ori Case, the hot football player. A guy. There.



But then she couldn’t help but notice Rachel Firestein’s thin, giraffelike arms. Chloe Davis made a sexy, teasing face at her date, Chad Something-or-other, that made her mouth look adorable. Elle Carmichael tilted her chin just so. Emily caught a whiff of someone’s Michael Kors perfume and had never smelled anything so yummy in her life. Except, maybe, for banana gum.



It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.



“What are you doing?”



Toby stood above her. “I…” Emily stuttered.



“I’ve been looking all over for you. Are you all right?”



Emily took stock: She was hiding in an alcove on a freezing-cold balcony, using her pashmina as a cloaking device, and doing a deranged peek-a-boo to test herself whether she liked boys or girls. She turned her eyes to Toby. She wanted to explain what had just happened. With Ben, with Maya, with the tarot reader—everything. “You might hate me for asking this, but…do you mind if we leave?”



Toby smiled. “I was hoping you’d ask that.” He pulled Emily up by her wrists.



On their way out, Emily noticed Spencer Hastings standing on the edge of the dance floor. Spencer’s back was to Emily, and Emily considered going up and saying hello. Then Toby pulled on her hand, and she decided against it. Spencer might ask her something about A, and she was in no mood to talk about any of that right now.



As they pulled out of the parking lot, Emily rolled down the window. The night smelled delicious, like pine needles and oncoming rain. The moon was huge and full, and thick clouds began to roll in. It was so quiet outside, Emily could hear the car’s tires slapping along the pavement.



“You sure you’re okay?” Toby asked.



Emily jumped a little. “Yeah, I’m fine.” She glanced at Toby. He told her he’d bought a new suit for this, and now she was making him go home three hours early. “I’m sorry the night sucked.”



“It’s cool.” Toby shrugged.



Emily turned over the little Tiffany box that sat in her lap. She’d plucked one off the table right before she left the tent, figuring she might as well get her parting gift.



“So nothing happened?” Toby asked. “You’re so quiet.”



Emily blew air out of her cheeks. She watched three different cornfields roll by before she answered. “I was accosted by a tarot card reader.”



Toby frowned, not understanding.



“She just said that something was going to happen to me tonight. Something, um, life-changing.” Emily tried to muster up a laugh. Toby opened his mouth to say something, then quickly shut it.



“Thing was, it kind of came true,” Emily said. “I ran into that guy, Ben. The one who was in the hallway at the Tank, who was…you know. Anyway, he tried…I don’t know. I guess he tried to hurt me.”



“What?”



“It’s okay. I’m all right. He just…” Emily’s chin trembled. “I don’t know. Maybe I deserved it.”



“Why?” Toby clenched his teeth. “What did you do?”



Emily picked at the gift’s white bow. Raindrops began to spatter the windshield. She took a deep breath. Was she really going to say this out loud? “Ben and I used to date. When we were still together, he caught me kissing someone else. A girl. He was calling me a dyke, and when I tried to tell him that I wasn’t, he tried to make me prove it. Like kiss him and…whatever. That’s what was happening when you came into the locker room hall.”



Toby shifted in his seat uncomfortably.



Emily ran her hands along the white gardenia Toby had given her as a corsage. “The thing is, maybe I am a dyke. I mean, I did, like, love Alison DiLaurentis. But I thought it was only Ali I loved, not that I was a lesbian. Now…now I don’t know. Maybe Ben’s right. Maybe I am gay. Maybe I should just deal with it.”

*** Copyright: Novel12.Com