Two bright spots appeared on Spencer’s cheeks, even more apparent under the hallway’s harsh fluorescent lights. “Huh. It was my suggestion to stay in Jersey. So it’s my fault she’s dead. Is that what you’re saying?”
Hanna rolled her jaw, at first not answering. But then she swallowed a lump in her throat. “It did seem kind of clueless. ‘Let’s get ice cream! Let’s have a good time!’ And then Emily sits there, all night, like a freaking zombie! That big ocean, that storm, it was so tempting—we should have seen this coming.”
Spencer’s eyes narrowed. “You could have said, ‘Hey, I think Emily’s going to drown herself, so maybe we should leave.’”
Hanna’s shoulders tensed. Spencer didn’t have to use quite such a dopey tone when impersonating Hanna’s voice.
“And you were sleeping next to her, Hanna,” Spencer went on. “Why didn’t you wake up when Emily got out of bed?”
Hanna clenched her fists. “You can’t blame me for sleeping. I was tired.”
“Oh, right, you need your beauty sleep,” Spencer said mockingly. “God forbid Hanna Marin doesn’t go one night without an eye mask and headphones.”
Hanna stomped her foot. “That’s not fair!”
“Guys,” Aria said softly, grabbing their arms. “It’s clear both of you are just mad at Mrs. Fields, not each other. So you missed Emily’s cues. You can’t beat yourselves up.”
Spencer yanked away and sneered at her. “Uh, excuse me? You missed Emily’s cues, too, Aria. We were all there.”
Aria’s mouth made an O. “I didn’t want to stay in Cape May.”
“Then why didn’t you say something?” Spencer growled, looking more and more affronted. “Why am I the only one who makes the decisions? And have you forgotten that I was the one who got up and found that note? Have you forgotten that I went into the water after her and nearly died?”
“No one told you to go in the water,” Hanna said under her breath. “Don’t be such a martyr.”
It was too much, and Hanna knew it. Spencer gasped and raised her hand toward Hanna. Hanna ducked away, nearly cracking her head on a coat rack in the hall. “Were you just going to hit me?” she squeaked.
“You deserve it,” Spencer growled through her teeth. “Someone needs to knock some freaking sense into you.”
Hanna’s mouth dropped open. “What about you, Spence? Someone needs to knock you off your high horse.” She lunged for Spencer.
Aria caught her arms and pulled her back. “Guys. Stop.”
“Yes, Spencer, stop being such a bitch!” Hanna wailed.
“I’m being a bitch?” Spencer hissed. And then, before anyone could say anything else, Spencer spun around and marched toward the back door.
“Where are you going?” Aria cried out, taking a few steps after her.
Spencer pushed on the heavy door to open it. “Away from you people.”
“I’ll come with you,” Aria offered.
Spencer’s eyes flashed. “No.” The door slammed as she marched out.
Silence followed. Hanna ran her hands down the length of her face, her heart drumming fast. She turned back to Aria, whose face was pale. “What the hell was that?”
Aria riffled the pages of the horoscope book. She shifted uncomfortably. “That was too far, Han,” she said sternly. “We’re all hurting.” Then she hurried out the door behind Spencer.
“Hey!” Hanna shrieked, but Aria was already gone. What the hell had just happened?
Then she looked around, her skin prickling. To her horror, quite a few people from the church were peering out the doorway, right at her, as if they’d heard every word.
Hanna spun around and walked the opposite way down the hall, away from the door Spencer and Aria had gone through. She came to a hallway full of conference rooms and sank down on the wall until her butt hit the cold linoleum floor. She wanted to cry, but she couldn’t. It was strange to feel both angry and numb at the same time, but that was the only way to describe it.
After a while, she heard footsteps. Mike stood over her. “Han,” he said, crouching down.
Hanna stared up at him. She’d been in such a fog she hadn’t even realized he’d come today.
“Hey,” Mike said gently, taking her hands. “Are you okay? Why did you guys leave the church? What happened?”
Hanna swallowed hard, then gazed in the direction in which her friends had run. “Oh, just two of the few remaining good things in my life crumbling away,” she said in a choked voice, realizing as she said it that it was utterly true.
8
ESCAPE ARTIST
Aria barely noticed that she’d crushed a few flowers in the beds as she stamped out of the church. Nor did she pause to appreciate the crisp, blue sky, the meandering bumblebees, or how her stiff suede heels were rubbing against her ankles. All she wanted was to catch Spencer and try to talk some sense into her.
That argument . . . why today, of all days? Emotions were way too raw to fight. They needed to stick together—the trial started tomorrow.
Aria peered into the parking lot and saw Spencer storming toward a row of cars. “Spence!” she called out. “Hey!”
Spencer glanced at Aria over her shoulder, then picked up her pace. “I don’t want to talk.”
Aria ran to her and caught her arm. “We’re all upset. This is . . . horrible, Spence. It’s totally not fair that Mrs. Fields feels that way about us.” She waved her hand toward the parking lot. “I’m half in the mood to smash all the windows of her car! And you almost died, too, and I respect how traumatic that was. But we have to—”