Prickles ran up Spencer’s back. She opened the e-mail and squinted at the words.
I thought we were friends, Spence. I send you a sweet little note, and you call the cops…. What do I have to do to keep you girls quiet? Actually, don’t tempt me!
—A
“Oh my God,” Spencer whispered.
A thumping noise sounded behind her. Spencer turned, her muscles rigid. No one else was in the computer room. A spotlight shone on the courtyard behind the library, but there wasn’t a single footprint in the bright white snow. Then Spencer noticed something on the outside of one of the windowpanes—a quickly fading smudge from someone’s breath.
Spencer’s blood turned cold. I’m watching. Someone had been right there just seconds ago…and she hadn’t had any idea.
16
WEIRDOS ATTRACT
The next morning, Aria walked downstairs, rubbing her eyes. The smell of the organic coffee Ella bought at the farmer’s market—one of the few items she paid premium price for without complaining—lured her to the kitchen. Ella had already left for work, but Mike was at the table, inhaling a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and Twittering on his iPhone. When Aria saw who was sitting next to Mike, she let out a startled cry.
“Oh.” Xavier looked up, alarmed. “Hey.”
Xavier was wearing a plain white T-shirt and very familiar plaid pajama pants. At first, Aria thought they might be ones Byron had left behind, but then she realized they were Ella’s. Byron’s favorite old Hollis College coffee mug sat in front of Xavier’s place, as did today’s Philadelphia Inquirer cryptoquote. Aria pressed her arms tightly and chastely against her chest. She hadn’t thought she needed to put on a bra for breakfast.
A horn honked outside. The chair made an angry scrape as Mike stood up, milk dribbling from his chin. “That’s Noel.” He grabbed his enormous bag of lacrosse gear and regarded Xavier. “Wii tonight, right?”
“I’ll be there,” Xavier answered.
Aria looked at her watch. “It’s seven twenty.” School started in an hour, and Mike usually procrastinated until the very last second.
“We’re getting a prime seat at Steam so we can check out Hanna Marin and her hot stepsister.” Mike’s eyes goggled. “Have you seen that Kate girl? I can’t believe the two of them live together! You talk to Hanna sometimes—do you know if they sleep in the same bed?”
Aria gave him an exasperated look. “Do you honestly expect me to answer that?”
Mike hefted his bag over his shoulder and sauntered into the hall, knocking over the enormous frog-faced totem pole Ella had found at a junk shop in Turkey. The front door slammed heavily. Aria heard an engine gunning…and then nothing.
The house was maddeningly still. The only thing Aria heard was the Indian sitar music Ella always listened to before work—she often left it on all day, maintaining that it was soothing for their cat, Polo, and the plants.
“Do you want a part of the paper?” Xavier broke the silence.
He held up the front page. Splayed across the top was the headline Ian Thomas Vows to Find Real DiLaurentis Killer Before Trial Tomorrow. Aria shuddered. “That’s okay.” She quickly poured herself a cup of coffee and headed back toward the stairs.
“Wait,” Xavier said loudly. Aria stopped so abruptly, some of her coffee spilled to the floor. “I’m sorry if I might have made you uncomfortable at the restaurant last night,” Xavier said solemnly. “That’s the last thing I meant to do. And I wanted to be gone before you came down today—I didn’t want to skeev you out more. I know how weird this must be.”
Aria wanted to ask if he meant that it must be weird because he knew she had been interested in him, or because he was dating her not-yet-divorced mom.
“It’s…fine.” Aria set her coffee down on the telephone table next to the door. It was littered with a whole bunch of flyers and postcards of Xavier’s recent shows—Ella must have been boning up on his work. Then she adjusted her way-too-short gray terry-cloth pajama shorts. If only she hadn’t been wearing the ones with the enormous pink Pegasus silk-screened across the butt.
She thought about the A note she’d received at Rabbit Rabbit yesterday. Wilden had promised to call her once he traced the origin of her latest A note. She hoped she’d hear from him today so she could put the whole thing behind her.
Aria had debated just explaining the photos of her and Xavier to Ella before A had the chance. She tried to picture it. The thing is, I kind of liked Xavier before you started dating him, she could say. But it’s not like I do now! So if anyone sends you a note or pictures, ignore them, okay? But their relationship was just too fragile to broach something like this—especially if she didn’t need to.
In truth, Wilden was probably right. The notes had to be from some dumb kid. And there wasn’t much of a reason to be angry at Xavier—all he’d done was draw a sketch of her—a really good sketch. That was it. Even if Ella saw the pictures A had sent Aria, Xavier would jump in to explain that nothing had been going on. He probably hadn’t even realized the message he’d sent, drawing Aria’s portrait in such detail. Xavier was an artiste, after all, and artists weren’t the most socially adept creatures in the world. Take Byron: When he’d held cocktail parties for his Hollis undergrad students, he’d often hidden up in the bedroom, forcing Ella to entertain.
Xavier stood up, wiping his chin with a napkin. “How about I make it up to you? I’ll go get dressed and then give you a ride to school.”