“No! I totally agree!” Aria protested. She couldn’t have put it more succinctly herself. A nagging feeling prodded at her. Jenna was beautiful—tall, graceful, cool, and artistic. Really artistic, in fact—if she really did go to Rosewood Day, Aria probably wouldn’t be the school’s best artist anymore. Who knew what Jenna could’ve been if her accident hadn’t happened. Suddenly, the desire to tell Jenna who Aria really was and how sorry she felt about what they’d done was so nauseatingly overpowering, it took all of Aria’s strength to keep her mouth shut.

Jenna came close to her. She smelled like cupcake icing. “Hold still,” Jenna instructed Aria as she located Aria’s head and laid the goopy strips over her face. They were wet and cool now, but soon they would harden over her face’s contours.

“So, do you think you’ll use your mask for anything?” Jenna asked. “Halloween?”

“My friend is having a masquerade,” Aria said, then immediately wondered if she was again giving up too much information. “I’ll probably wear it there.”

“That’s great,” Jenna cooed. “I’m going to take mine with me to Venice. My parents are taking me there next month, and I hear it’s the mask capital of the world.”

“I love Venice!” Aria squeaked. “I’ve been there with my family four times!”

“Wow.” Jenna layered newspaper strips over Aria’s forehead. “Four times? Your family must like to travel together.”

“Well, they used to,” Aria said, trying to keep her face still for Jenna.

“What do you mean, used to?” Jenna began to cover Aria’s cheeks.

Aria twitched—the strips were beginning to harden and get itchy. She could tell Jenna this, right? It wasn’t like Jenna knew anything about her family. “Well, my parents are…I don’t know. Getting divorced, I guess. My dad has a new girlfriend, this young girl who teaches art classes at Hollis. And I’m living with them right now. She hates me.”

“And do you hate her?” Jenna asked.

“Totally,” Aria said. “She’s running my dad’s life. She makes him take vitamins and do yoga. And she’s convinced she has the stomach flu, but she seems fine to me.” Aria bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. She wished Meredith’s supposed stomach flu would just kill her already. Then she wouldn’t have to spend the next few months trying to figure out ways to stop Meredith and Byron from getting married.

“Well, at least she cares about him.” Jenna paused, then smiled halfway. “I can feel you frowning, but all families have issues. Mine certainly does.”

Aria tried not to make any more facial movements that would give anything away.

“But maybe you should give this girlfriend a chance,” Jenna went on. “At least she’s artistic, right?”

Aria’s stomach dropped. She couldn’t control the muscles around her mouth. “How did you know she’s artistic?”

Jenna stopped. Some of the floury goop on her hands plopped to the scuffed wood floor. “You just said it, right?”

Aria felt dizzy. Had she? Jenna squished more newspaper strips to Aria’s cheeks. As she moved from Aria’s cheeks to chin to forehead to nose, Aria realized something. If Jenna could feel her frowning, she could probably tell other things about her face, too. She might be able to feel what Aria looked like. Just then, when she looked up, a startled, uncomfortable look settled on Jenna’s face, as if she’d figured it all out, too.

The room felt sticky and hot. “I have to…” Aria fumbled around her workstation, nearly tipping over her large unused bucket of water.

“Where are you going?” Jenna called.

All Aria needed was to get out of here for a few minutes. But as she stumbled toward the door, the mask tightening and suctioning to her face, Aria’s Treo let out a bleep. She reached into her bag for it, careful not to get flour all over the keypad. She had one new text message.

Sucks to be in the dark, huh? Imagine how the blind must feel! If you tell ANYONE what I did, I’ll put you in the dark for good. Mwah!—A

Aria glanced back at Jenna. She was sitting at her workstation, fiddling with her cell phone, oblivious to the flour all over her fingers. Another beep from her own phone startled her. She glanced down at the screen again. Another text had come in.

P.S. Your stepmommy-to-be has a secret identity, just like you! Want an eyeful? Go to Hooters tomorrow.—A

19

WANDERING MINDS WANT TO KNOW

Thursday morning, as Emily emerged from one of the bathroom stalls in the gym locker room dressed in her regulation Rosewood Day white T-shirt, hoodie, and royal blue gym shorts, an announcement blared over the PA system.

“Hey, everyone!” a chirpy, way-too-enthusiastic boy’s voice called out. “This is Andrew Campbell, your class president, and I just want to remind you that Hanna Marin’s welcome-back party is tomorrow night at the Rosewood Country Club! Please come out and bring your mask—it’s costumes only! And also, I want everyone to wish Spencer Hastings a great big good luck—she’s off to New York City tonight for her Golden Orchid finalist interview! Best wishes, Spencer!”

Several girls in the locker room groaned. There was always at least one announcement about Spencer. Emily found it strange, though, that Spencer hadn’t mentioned the Golden Orchid trip yesterday at the hospital when they were visiting Hanna. Spencer usually overtalked about her achievements.

As Emily passed the giant cardboard cutout of Rosewood’s shark mascot and emerged into the gym, she heard hooting and clapping, like she’d just walked into her own surprise party.

“Our favorite girl is back!” Mike Montgomery whooped, standing underneath the basketball hoop. It seemed like every freshman boy in Emily’s mixed-grade gym class had gathered behind him. “So, you were on a sex vacation, right?”

“What?” Emily looked back and forth. Mike was talking kind of loudly.

“You know,” Mike goaded, his elfin face a near mirror of Aria’s. “To Thailand or whatever.” He got a dreamy smile on his face.

Emily wrinkled her nose. “I was in Iowa.”

“Oh.” Mike looked confused. “Well, Iowa’s hot, too. There are lots of milkmaids there, right?” He winked knowingly, as if milkmaids equaled instant porn.

Emily wanted to say something nasty, but then shrugged. She was pretty sure Mike wasn’t teasing her in a mean way. The other gangly freshman boys gaped, as if Emily were Angelina Jolie, and Mike had been brave enough to ask for her e-mail address.

Mr. Draznowsky, their gym teacher, blew his whistle. All the students sat down cross-legged on the gym floor in their squads, which was basically gym-speak for rows. Mr. Draznowsky took roll and led them through stretches, and then everyone started to file out to the tennis courts. As Emily selected a Wilson racket from the equipment bin, she heard someone behind her whisper. “Psssst.”

Maya stood by a box of Bosu balls, Pilates magic circles, and other equipment that exercise-aholic girls used during their free periods. “Hi,” she squealed, her face bright pink with pleasure.

Emily tentatively walked into Maya’s arms, inhaling her familiar banana gum smell. “What are you doing here?” she gasped.

“I skipped out of Algebra III to find you,” Maya whispered. She held up a wooden hall pass carved into pi’s squiggly shape. “When did you get back? What happened? Are you here for good?”

Emily hesitated. She’d been in Rosewood for a whole day, but yesterday had been such a blur—there was her visit to the hospital, then A’s note, then classes and swimming and time spent with her parents—she hadn’t had time to talk to Maya yet. Emily had noticed Maya in the halls once yesterday, but she’d ducked into an empty classroom and waited for Maya to pass. She couldn’t exactly explain why. It wasn’t as if she was hiding from Maya or anything.

“I didn’t get back that long ago,” she managed. “And I’m back for good. I hope.”

The door to the tennis courts banged shut. Emily looked at the exit longingly. By the time she got outside, everyone in her gym class would’ve already found a tennis partner. She’d have to hit balls with Mr. Draznowsky, who, because he was also a health teacher, liked to give his students on-the-fly contraception lectures. Then, Emily blinked hard, as if startled out of a dream. What was her problem? Why did she care about stupid gym class when Maya was here?

She whipped back around. “My parents have done a one-eighty. They were so worried that something had happened to me after I left my aunt and uncle’s farm, they’ve decided to accept me for who I am.”

Maya widened her eyes. “That’s awesome!” She grabbed Emily’s hands. “So what happened at your aunt and uncle’s? Were they mean to you?”

“Sort of.” Emily shut her eyes, picturing Helene and Allen’s stern faces. Then, she imagined do-si-do’ing with Trista at the party. Trista had told Emily that if she were a dance, she’d most definitely be the Virginia reel. Maybe she should confess to Maya what happened with Trista…only, what had happened? Nothing, really. It would be better to just forget the whole thing. “It’s a long story.”

“You’ll have to give me all the details later, now that we can actually hang out in public.” Maya jiggled up and down, then glanced at the enormous clock on the scoreboard. “I should probably get back,” she whispered. “Can we meet up tonight?”

Emily hesitated, realizing this was the first time she could say yes without sneaking around behind her parents’ backs. Then she remembered. “I can’t. I’m having dinner out with my family.”

Maya’s face fell. “Tomorrow, then? We could go to Hanna’s party together.”

“S-sure,” Emily stammered. “That would be great.”

“And, oh! I have a huge surprise for you.” Maya hopped from foot to foot. “Scott Chin, the yearbook photographer? He’s in my history class, and he told me that you and I were voted this year’s best couple! Isn’t that fun?”

“Best couple?” Emily repeated. Her mouth felt gummy.

Maya took Emily’s hands and swung them back and forth. “We have a photo shoot in the yearbook room tomorrow. Won’t that be so cute?”

“Sure.” Emily picked up the hem of her T-shirt and squeezed it in her palm.

Maya cocked her head. “You sure you’re okay? You don’t sound so enthused.”

“No. I am. Totally.” Just as Emily took a breath to go on, her cell phone vibrated in her hoodie pocket, jolting straight through to her waist. She jumped and pulled it out, her heart pounding. One new text message, the screen said.

When she hit READ and saw the signature, her stomach turned for a different reason. She snapped the phone shut without reading the message. “Get anything good?” Maya asked, a little nosily, Emily thought.

“Nah.” Emily slid the phone back into her pocket.