City Secrets (24 page)

Heather stretched her arms toward the ceiling. “We need to start packing. Paul's picking us up in a couple of hours.”

“Okay,” I said. I noticed that the apartment was quiet except for the kitchen, where Helen was doing dishes. “Are your parents up yet?”

Heather pushed back her chair and got up. “They were up hours ago. They both left early this morning for a trip to Los Angeles.”

“Did you get to say good-bye?” I asked. There was
no
way they'd just leave without—

“Oh,
they
said good-bye—in a sticky note on the counter,” Heather said. “Good enough.”

“Heather.” I got up and followed her to her room. “I'm sorry.”

“I'm not upset, really,” Heather said. She walked into her closet. “They do this all the time. They just don't think to tell me when they're doing something because they're so used to me not being here. It was a big deal that they wrote a note, believe me.”

“Still. Sorry,” I said.

“Omigod!” Heather walked out of her closet, carrying an armload of clothes. “Stop! Seriously! Go pack or you'll go back to Canterwood without your stuff.”

“Okay, okay.” I looked at her for another second, and then left her room. She really
didn't
seem upset. And that made me sad, because it meant she was used to her parents
acting like that. I went into the bathroom first and gathered my shampoo, conditioner, body wash, and other toiletries. Before I put everything away, I washed my face and brushed my teeth. Then I put them in a Ziploc in case something leaked and put the bag in my suitcase.

Back in my room I pulled on jeans and a plain white T-shirt. It would be a comfy outfit for the ride back to school.

It didn't take me long to pack my clothes, since I hadn't brought too much. I had to squeeze in my new clothes, but I got the zipper to go all the way around the suitcase.

I checked the time on my phone—I'd made it with half an hour to spare. I noticed my text alert icon near my clock.

Paige,
I thought. Since we were on our way to making up, I needed to at least read the text.

So glad we got 2 email so much over break. Rlly hope u show up @ the fountain.

What? Then I almost hyperventilated when I read the name.

Jacob.

My brain went into overdrive. I hadn't e-mailed him once over break! I'd barely checked my e-mail. Why would he write me and say he was glad we'd e-mailed
when we hadn't? And what was he talking about, me meeting him? Had he meant to text someone else?

I sat at the end of the bed and stared at the phone. Minutes ticked by.

Then, in a rush, it all made sense.

The frequent IMs to “Julia” or “Alison.”

The freaking out when I used her computer.

The error message when I tried to check my e-mail from my phone.

Heather Fox had hacked into my e-mail.

I ran out of my room and almost knocked over a table as I darted to her room.

“Were. You. On. My. E-mail?” I punctuated each word with force.

Heather looked up from her suitcase and her eyes met mine.

“Yes,” she said. No hesitation, no lying. Just a simple yes that made the room spin.

My breath was ragged. “Did you e-mail Jacob?”

Heather nodded. “As you. Almost every day.”

I stood, frozen, in her doorway. I couldn't formulate a sentence. I tried to breathe, but I couldn't do that either.

Then all of my strength came back. I stepped into Heather's room, slamming the door so hard behind me that her mirror shuddered.

 23 

“YOU SENT E-MAILS TO JACOB?!” I YELLED. I imagined everyone on every floor of the entire building heard me.

“Someone had to do something,” Heather said, her tone calm. “You
like
like him. He's into you. You weren't doing anything about it, so I wanted to help.”

I opened my mouth, stunned. It took me a long time before I could respond. “
Help?
You think sending e-mails as
me
to
him
helped?! What is wrong with you?”

“Sasha, I didn't tell him you hated him or that he dressed weird,” Heather said. “I told him you liked him and missed him. And that's the truth.”

“But it wasn't your truth to tell!” I couldn't stop yelling—my tone wouldn't lower.

Heather sat at the end of her bed. She didn't look sorry at all.

“Someone had to tell him. And I owed you.”

“Owed me? For what?” I threw up a hand.

Heather held up her phone. “For what you did for Troy and me. I . . . wouldn't have texted him, let alone called him, if you hadn't pushed me.”

Heather's voice was soft and she sounded so sincere. But that didn't matter right now.

“Okay, so you could have said ‘Thank you, Sasha,' or bought me ice cream when we got back to school. Something—anything—but e-mailing Jacob. He's going to be waiting for me tomorrow at the fountain!”

Heather didn't say anything. She just watched me.

I fell into one of Heather's chairs and buried my face in my hands. “I have to go back to school tomorrow,” I said. “And what am I supposed to do?”

I heard footsteps and felt papers placed on my lap. I looked down and saw that it was a printout of every e-mail between Jacob and “me.”

“That,” Heather said, “is up to you.”