Perfect (9 page)

As Squidward dimmed the lights and the video—
Microeconomics and the Consumer
, with cheesy, upbeat music—came on, Spencer’s Sidekick vibrated in her bag. Slowly, she reached in and pulled it out. Her phone had one new text.

Spence: I know what you did. But I won’t tell if you do EXACTLY what I say. Wanna know what happens if you don’t? Go to Emily’s swim meet…and you’ll see.

—A

Someone next to Spencer cleared his throat. She looked over, and there was Andrew, staring right at her. His eyes glowed against the flickering light of the movie. Spencer turned to face forward, but she could still feel Andrew watching her in the darkness.

10

SOMEONE DIDN’T LISTEN

During the break at the Rosewood Day–Drury Academy swim meet, Emily opened her team locker and pulled down the straps of her Speedo Fastskin racing suit. This year, the Rosewood Day swim team had splurged on full-body, drag-free, Olympian-caliber swimsuits. They’d had to special-order them, and they’d just arrived in time for today’s meet. The suits tapered to the ankles, clung to every inch of skin, and showed every bulge, reminding Emily of the photo in her bio textbook of a boa constrictor digesting a mouse. Emily grinned at Lanie Iler, her teammate. “I’m so happy to be getting out of this thing.”

She was also happy she’d decided to tell Officer Wilden about A. Last night, after Emily returned home from Hanna’s house, she’d called and arranged to meet Wilden at the Rosewood police station later tonight. Emily didn’t care what the others said or thought about A’s threat—with the police involved, they could put this drama behind them forever.

“You’re so lucky you’re done,” Lanie responded. Emily had already swum—and won—all of her events; now the only thing she had left to do was cheer along with the zillions of other Rosewood students who had showed up for the meet. She could hear the cheerleaders screaming from the locker room and hoped they wouldn’t slip on the natatorium’s wet tiled floor—Tracey Reid had taken a spill before the first event.

“Hey, girls.” Coach Lauren strode down their aisle of lockers. Today, as usual, Lauren was wearing one of her inspirational swimming T-shirts:
TOP TEN REASONS I SWIM
. (Number five:
BECAUSE I CAN EAT
5,000
CALORIES AND NOT FEEL GUILTY
.) She clapped a hand on Emily’s shoulder. “Great job, Em. Pulling ahead in the medley relay like that? Fantastic!”

“Thanks.” Emily blushed.

Lauren leaned over the chipped red bench in the middle of the aisle. “There’s a local recruiter from the University of Arizona here,” she said in a low voice, only to Emily. “She asked if she could speak to you during the second half. That okay?”

Emily’s eyes widened. “Of course!” The University of Arizona was one of the best swimming schools in the country.

“Great. You guys can talk in my office, if you want.” Lauren gave Emily another smile. She disappeared toward the hall that led to the natatorium, and Emily followed. She passed her sister Carolyn, who was coming from the other direction.

“Carolyn, guess what!” Emily bounced up and down.

“A University of Arizona recruiter wants to talk to me! If I went there and you went to Stanford, we’d be close!” Carolyn was graduating this year and had already been recruited by Stanford’s swim team.

Carolyn glanced at Emily and disappeared into a bathroom stall, shutting the door behind her with a slam. Emily backed away, feeling stunned. What just happened? She and her sister weren’t super-close, but she’d expected a
little
more enthusiasm than that.

As Emily walked toward the hall that led to the pool, Gemma Curran’s face peeped at her from the showers. When Emily met her eyes, Gemma snapped the curtain closed. And as she walked by the sinks, Amanda Williamson was whispering to Jade Smythe. When Emily met their eyes in the mirror, their mouths made small, startled
O
’s. Emily felt goose bumps rise to the surface of her skin. What was going on?

“God, it seems like even
more
people are here now!” Lanie murmured, walking into the natatorium behind Emily. And she was right: the stands seemed more packed than during the first half. The band, set up near the diving well, was playing a fight song, and the foamy gray Hammerhead mascot had joined the cheerleaders in front of the stands. Everyone was in the stands—the popular kids, the soccer boys, the drama club girls, even her teachers. Spencer Hastings sat next to Kirsten Cullen. Maya was up there, typing furiously into her cell phone, and Hanna Marin sat near her, all alone and gazing out into the crowd. And there were Emily’s parents, dressed up in their blue-and-white Rosewood Swimming sweatshirts decorated with
GO EMILY
and
GO CAROLYN
buttons. Emily tried to wave to them, but they were too busy studying a piece of paper, probably the heat sheet. Actually, a lot of people were looking at the heat sheet. Mr. Shay, the geezerish biology teacher who always watched practice because he’d been a swimmer about a thousand years ago, held a copy about three inches from his face. The heat sheet wasn’t
that
interesting—it just listed the order of events.

James Freed stepped in Emily’s path. His mouth stretched into a broad grin.
“Hey
, Emily,” he said leeringly. “I had no idea.”

Emily frowned. “No idea…what?”

Aria’s brother, Mike, sauntered up next to James. “Hi, Emily.”

Mona Vanderwaal came up behind the two boys. “Stop bothering her, you two.” She turned to Emily. “Ignore them. I want to invite you to something.” She dug through her giant butterscotch suede satchel and handed Emily a white envelope. Emily turned it over in her hands. Whatever this was, Mona had scented it with something expensive. Emily glanced up, confused.

“I’m having a birthday party on Saturday,” Mona explained, twisting a long piece of white-blond hair around her fingers. “Maybe I’ll see you?”

“You should
totally
come,” Mike agreed, widening his eyes.

“I…” Emily stammered. But before she could say anything more, the band struck up another fight song and Mona skipped away.

Emily looked at the invite again. What on earth was
that
all about? She wasn’t the type of girl who got hand-delivered invitations from Mona Vanderwaal. And she certainly wasn’t the type who got salacious looks from boys.

Suddenly, something across the pool caught her eye. It was a piece of paper taped to the wall. It hadn’t been there before halftime. And it looked familiar. Like a photo.

She squinted. Her heart dropped to her knees. It
was
a photo…of two people kissing in a photo booth. In
Noel Kahn’s
photo booth.

“Oh my God.” Emily ran across the natatorium, sliding twice on the wet pool deck.

“Emily!” Aria ran toward her from the side entrance, her suede platform boots clomping against the tile and her blue-black hair flapping wildly all over her face. “I’m sorry I’m late, but can we talk?”

Emily didn’t answer Aria. Someone had placed a Xerox of the kissing photo next to the big marker board that listed who was swimming in what race. Her whole team would see it. But would they know it was her?

She tore the Xerox off the wall. On the bottom, in big black letters, it said,
LOOK WHAT EMILY FIELDS HAS BEEN PRACTICING WHEN SHE’S NOT IN THE POOL
!

Well, that cleared
that
up.

Aria leaned over and examined the photo. “Is that…you?”

Emily’s chin trembled. She crumpled up the paper in her hands, but when she looked around, she saw another copy sitting on top of someone’s gear bag, a fold already down the center. She grabbed it and crumpled it up, too.

Then she saw another copy lying on the ground near the tub of kickboards. And another one…in Coach Lauren’s hands. Lauren looked from the picture to Emily, from Emily to the picture. “Emily?” she said quietly.

“This can’t be happening,” Emily whispered, raking her hand through her wet hair. She glanced over at the wire-mesh wastebasket near Lauren’s office. There were at least ten discarded pictures of her kissing Maya at the bottom. Someone had thrown a half-drunk can of Sunkist on top. The liquid had oozed out, coloring their faces orange. There were more near the water fountains. And taped up to the racing lane storage wheel. Her teammates, who were all filtering out from the locker rooms, gave her uneasy looks. Her ex-boyfriend, Ben, smirked at her, as if to say,
Your little lesbo experiment isn’t so fun now, huh?

Aria picked up a copy that had seemingly fluttered down from the ceiling. She squinted and pursed her shiny, strawberry-red lips together. “So what? You’re kissing someone.” Her eyes widened.
“Oh.”

Emily let out a helpless
eep.

“Did A do this?” Aria whispered.

Emily looked around frantically. “Did you see who was giving these out?” But Aria shook her head. Emily unzipped the pouch to her swim bag and found her cell phone. There was a text. Of course there was a text.

Emily, sweetie, I know you’re all about tit for tat, so when you made plans to out me, I decided to out you too. Kisses!

—A

“Damn,” Aria whispered, reading the text over Emily’s shoulder.

A sickening thought suddenly hit Emily. Her parents. That paper they were looking at—it wasn’t the heat sheet.
It was the photo
. She glanced over at the stands. Sure enough, her parents were staring at her. They looked like they were about to cry, their faces red and nostrils flared.

“I have to get out of here.” Emily searched for the nearest exit.

“No way.” Aria grabbed Emily’s wrist and spun her around. “This is nothing to be ashamed of. If someone says something, screw ’em.”

Emily sniffed. People might
call
Aria weird, but she was normal. She had a boyfriend. She would never know what this felt like.

“Emily, this is our opportunity!” Aria protested. “A is probably
here
.” She looked menacingly into the bleachers.

Emily peeked over at the stands again. Her parents still wore the same angry and hurt expressions. Maya’s spot was now empty. Emily scanned the length of the stands for her, but Maya was gone.

A
was
probably up there. And Emily wished she was brave enough to climb up into the bleachers and shake everyone until someone confessed. But she couldn’t.

“I…I’m sorry,” Emily said abruptly, and ran for the locker room. She passed the hundred or so people who now knew what she was really like, trampling over copies of her and Maya on the way.

11

EVEN HIGH-TECH SECURITY DOESN’T PROTECT YOU FROM EVERYTHING

Moments later, Aria pushed through the fogged-up double doors of Rosewood Day’s natatorium and joined Spencer and Hanna, who were talking quietly by the vending machines. “Poor Emily,” Hanna whispered to Spencer. “Did you know about…this?”

Spencer shook her head. “No idea.”

“Remember when we snuck into the Kahns’ pool when they were on vacation and went skinny-dipping?” Hanna murmured. “Remember all the times we changed in dressing rooms together? I never felt weird.”

“Me neither,” Aria piped up, ducking out of the way so a freshman boy could get a soda out of the Coke machine.

“Do you think she thought any of us were cute?” Hanna widened her eyes. “But I was so fat back then,” she added, sounding a little disappointed.

“A passed around those flyers,” Aria said to Hanna and Spencer. She pointed toward the pool. “A might be here.”

They all peered into the natatorium. Competitors stood on the blocks, waiting. The hammerhead shark mascot paraded up and down the length of the pool. The stands were still packed. “What are we supposed to do about it?” Hanna asked, narrowing her eyes. “Stop the meet?”

“We shouldn’t do anything.” Spencer zipped up her khaki Burberry anorak to her chin. “If we look for A, A might get mad…and do something worse.”

“A. Is. Here!” Aria repeated. “This might be our big chance!”

Spencer looked at the crowd of kids in the lobby. “I…I have to go.” With that, she darted through the revolving doors and sprinted across the parking lot.

Aria turned to Hanna. “Spencer ran out of here like
she
was A,” she half-joked.

“I heard she’s a finalist in some big essay contest.” Hanna pulled out her Chanel compact and began dabbing at her chin. “You know she gets manic when she’s competing. She’s probably going home to study.”

“True,” Aria said quietly. Maybe Spencer was right—maybe A
would
do something worse if they searched the stands.

Suddenly, someone whipped her hood off her head from behind. Aria swirled around. “Mike,” she gasped.
“God.”

Her brother grinned. “Did you get a photo of the lesbo action?” He pretended to lick the picture of Emily and Maya. “Can you get me Emily’s digits?”

“Absolutely not.” She surveyed her brother. His STX lacrosse cap smashed down his blue-black hair, and he was wearing his blue-and-white Rosewood Day Varsity lacrosse windbreaker. She hadn’t seen him since last night.