Spencer lowered her eyes. What did Reefer see in her, anyway? A Lilith Fairgoing, eyebrow-pierced, bohemian h.e.l.l-raiser seemed more his type. "So what kind is good for baking?" she asked, changing the subject.

Reefer opened a drawer and selected a greenish clump. "This stuff is super-mellow and really fragrant. Smell."

Spencer backed away from him. "It's not like it's wine."

Reefer gave her a condescending look. "In some cultures, distinguishing different brands of pot is much more refined than having a good palate for wines."

"I guess you're the expert." Spencer brought the wad of pot to her nostrils and breathed in. "Ugh." She turned her head away, a.s.saulted by the familiar skunky odor. "It smells like b.u.t.t."

"Novice." Reefer chuckled. "Keep sniffing. There's more to it than just that. It's a secret that's locked just underneath."

Spencer gave him a wary look, but then shrugged and moved in for another sniff. After getting over the stale, icky, pot smell, she began to notice another scent just beneath it. Something almost . . . fragrant. She looked up, surprised. "Orange peels?"

"Exactly." Reefer smiled. "It's a hybrid of two different kinds of pot that have really fruity characteristics. I created the blend myself." He turned and pulled out another bud and waved it under Spencer's nostrils. "What about this one?"

Spencer closed her eyes and breathed in. "Chocolate?" she said after a moment.

Reefer nodded. "It's called Chocolate Chunk. You have a really good nose."

"If only there were a career in pot-sniffing," Spencer joked. But deep down, she couldn't help but feel pleased. She liked when someone pointed out she was good at something.

She dared a smile at Reefer, and he smiled back. For a moment, he looked really cute. His eyes were such a disarming golden color. If he just got rid of those stupid clothes, he'd be gorgeous.

Then Spencer forced the corners of her lips down, startled by her thoughts. The pot fumes were probably getting to her. "So you can bake these into brownies?" she barked.

Reefer cleared his throat and stepped away, too. "Yep. I've got a great recipe you can borrow, too." He pulled out a binder from an organized bookshelf, extracted an index card, and handed it to her. Magical Mystery Brownies read the heading at the top.

Spencer put the card in her pocket. "What do I owe you?"

Reefer waved his hand. "Nothing. Like I said, I'm not a dealer."

"I want to give you something."

Reefer thought for a moment. "You can answer me something. Why do you want to be part of Ivy?"

Spencer bristled. "Why do you care?"

Reefer shrugged. "I just don't understand Eating Clubs. It seems like most people use them to feel better about themselves, but do you really need a stupid club to tell you that you're cool?"

Spencer's face turned hot. "Of course not! And if you ask anyone who belongs to them, I'm sure that's not why they're part of them, either."

Reefer snorted. "Please. I heard those Ivy girls at the party. They name-dropped like crazy. I guarantee you the only reason they're part of the club is to impress their parents or one-up their siblings or because it gives them an automatic clique. It's so . . . safe."

Spencer's mind reeled. "I a.s.sure you that's not what they're thinking. That's not what I'm thinking, either."

"Okay." Reefer crossed his arms over his chest. "Tell me what you are thinking, then."

Spencer opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Infuriatingly, she couldn't think of a single reason Reefer would understand. Even worse, maybe he was right-maybe she did want an automatic clique. Maybe she wanted to impress her parents, Mr. Pennythistle, Amelia, Melissa, and everyone at Rosewood Day who didn't believe in her. But Reefer had made it sound like wanting those things was shallow and unadventurous. He painted her as an eager, insecure little girl, only wanting to make Mommy and Daddy happy, not thinking for herself.

"Where do you get off?" she sputtered, facing Reefer. "What makes you so high and mighty? What about Princeton itself? They only admit a few people while rejecting plenty of others. You have no problem with being part of that!"

"Who says I don't have a problem with it?" Reefer said quietly. "You really shouldn't-"

"Judge a book by its cover, I got it," Spencer snapped angrily. "Maybe you should listen to your own advice." She fished in her wallet and flung two twenties at Reefer for the pot. He stared at them as though they were coated in anthrax. Then she marched out of the house, slamming the front door behind her.

The cold air was a welcome greeting on her hot skin. Her jaw hurt from clenching it so tightly. Why did she even care what Reefer thought? It wasn't like they were friends. Still, she glanced up at his bedroom window. The blinds weren't parted and Reefer wasn't looking forlornly out, begging her forgiveness. Jerk.

Rolling back her shoulders, she stomped down the steps and pulled out her cell phone to call the cab company to take her back to the motel. Her eyes watered, and she drew back and sniffed the phone's leather case. It smelled like the pot Reefer had given her. She wrinkled her nose, cursing the odor. It no longer smelled of sweet, tangy orange peels. Maybe it never had.

21.

A FRIENDLY REUNION.

On Sat.u.r.day evening, Emily scurried down the street in Old Hollis, the commercial district next to the college that boasted bars, restaurants, funky T-shirt shops, and a psychic who read tarot cards. A neon sign in the shape of an ice cream cone swung from an awning ahead, and her stomach did a nervous flip. She was on her way to hang out with Isaac again, and even though her secret weighed heavily on her, the buzzy, giddy feeling she'd had since she last saw him hadn't ceased.

She couldn't stop thinking about Isaac since their dinner. The way he'd hung on her words, the way he'd stood up for her in front of his mom-he seemed older, somehow, really mature.

"Emily?"

She stared across the dark street. A figure in a blue checked coat was waving at her from Snooker's, a college bar with Eagles pennants and Pabst Blue Ribbon lamps. He had a wrist brace on his hand and spiky dark hair. When he called her name again, Emily recognized the voice immediately. It was Derrick, her closest friend from the summer.

"Oh my G.o.d," Emily yelped, crossing the street. A driver honked angrily as he swerved to avoid her. "What are you doing here?" she called gleefully to Derrick.

"Taking some cla.s.ses at Hollis." Derrick grabbed Emily and engulfed her in a huge hug. He looked her up and down. "Man, you look a little different since I saw you last. What happened to you, anyway? You fell off the face of the earth! We were supposed to hang out back in the summer, but you never showed. Never called, either."

Emily stared down at her sneakers, feeling ashamed. She'd ditched Derrick the day she'd overheard Gayle saying that she was the one who was pregnant. She'd meant to call him later with an update, but she hadn't gotten around to it. She thought she'd see him at the restaurant, but their schedules had never matched up. A week pa.s.sed, then another, and suddenly it felt weird to call him. Too much had happened. There was too much to explain.

Derrick leaned in closer, giving Emily a concerned look. "How did everything go with the baby?"

"Shhh." Emily looked around, terrified one of the pa.s.sersby on the busy street might hear. "No one knows about that. Especially my parents."

Derrick's eyebrows shot up. "You still haven't told them?"

Emily shook her head. "I didn't have to."

"So I guess you didn't keep it, then." Derrick twisted his mouth. "And I know you didn't give it to Gayle." He looked wounded. "You know, I should be mad at you. You got me in some deep s.h.i.t with that woman."

Emily shivered at the sound of Gayle's name. "What do you mean?"

"About two weeks after you ditched me, she found me in her garden shed and told me you went back on your word. She was unhinged. She thought I had something to do with it, helped you escape or something. She started throwing stuff at me-a bag of birdseed, a rake, then a shovel. She broke a window-it was insane. I tried to tell her I had no idea what she was talking about, but she didn't believe me." He bit his lip. "I'd never seen her so . . . violent."

Emily covered her mouth with her hands. She thought of A's last note, which all but spelled out how Gayle was searching for the baby. What did Gayle have planned when she found her? Was she going to take her away from the Bakers? And exactly what role was A playing in it all?

Emily felt a presence beside her and looked up. Standing opposite Derrick, with a strange look on his face, was Isaac. "H-hey," he said cautiously. His eyes flickered to Derrick, then back to her.

"Oh!" Emily blurted a little too loudly. "Isaac! Hey!" She gestured to Derrick. "This is my friend, Derrick. Derrick, this is, uh, Isaac."

Derrick's eyes widened. "Isaac?" Emily remembered that one night last summer, she'd admitted Isaac's name to Derrick.

"W-we should get going," Emily said, inserting herself between the two boys. She knew Derrick wouldn't say anything, but this was just too weird.

"We should finish catching up sometime," Derrick said, patting Emily on the shoulder. "I've missed you."

"Uh huh," Emily said quickly, taking Isaac's arm and hurrying down the street. "Great to see you, Derrick! Bye!" She felt bad for ditching Derrick again, but she didn't dare turn around.

They pa.s.sed a retro toy store, a bank, and an empty storefront before Isaac cleared his throat. "So who was that?"

"Derrick?" Emily chirped innocently, pushing into the ice cream shop. The bells on the door chimed cheerfully. "Oh, he's just a friend I met last summer in Philly."

Then she gazed hard at the menu board above the counter and started to ramble. "So what are you going to get? I hear the cherry vanilla is really good. Or, ooh, look! Organic rocky road!" If she kept talking, she figured, Isaac wouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise.

"Emily."

She looked up guiltily. In the bright light of the ice cream parlor, Isaac's eyes looked bluer than ever. He fiddled with a string bracelet around his wrist. "Are you sure you're all right? You seem really freaked."

"Of course I'm all right!" Emily said, knowing her voice sounded high-pitched and strange.

"Don't take this the wrong way," Isaac said, "but did that Derrick guy do something to you? It seemed like you couldn't wait to get away from him."

Emily searched his face. "Oh my G.o.d, no." It was so funny that she burst out laughing. If only it was that simple.

The line shifted, and Emily and Isaac moved closer to the register. "I care about you, that's all. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Emily kept her gaze fixed on the chrome ice cream scoops behind the counter, her heart breaking from Isaac's kindness. She wanted him to care about her. "He's just an old friend I confided in a lot about Ali-that's probably what you were sensing," she said haltingly. "There's nothing weird going on. I promise."

"Are you sure?" Isaac asked, grabbing Emily's hands.

"Positive." She peered at their entwined fingers. They looked so nice together. Did the baby's hands look like a combination of theirs? Did the baby have Isaac's smile, Emily's freckles? A lump formed in her throat.

"Okay, well in that case, there was actually something I wanted to ask you about," Isaac said, looking serious.

Emily swallowed hard, suddenly worried he could read her thoughts. "Yeah?"

Isaac looked into her eyes. "Do you want to go with me to Tom Marin's fund-raiser ball tomorrow? It sounds fun, and my dad's company isn't catering it."

"Oh!" Emily said, unable to hide her surprise. She'd intended on going to the fund-raiser alone, especially since she was only going in order to help the girls steal Gayle's phone. Bringing Isaac would be tricky. What if Gayle said something? What if she took one look at Isaac and knew, somehow, he was the father?

But Isaac was looking at her nervously, like he'd be crushed if she said no. And before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "Yes!"

"Great!" Isaac said, looking relived. "It's a date."

Emily forced a bright smile on her face. She'd never felt so many things at once. Freaked, definitely. Pleased, too-she did want to see Isaac again. But she also hated herself for everything she wasn't telling him. She was playing a very dangerous game.

It was their turn to order, and they stepped up to the counter. A motorcycle engine revved, and she glanced at the street out the window. There, across the wide avenue, backlit by the neon sign of the Hollis Liquor Store, stood someone in a black hood, staring at her. At first, she thought it might be Derrick, but this person was smaller, thinner. Emily shot away from Isaac and wound around the tables to get a closer look, but by the time she was at the gla.s.s, the figure was gone.

22.

THE TOUGHEST DECISION EVER.

Aria stood at the window of Ella's house in Rosewood, peering out at the dark street. She felt a hand on her shoulder and smelled Ella's familiar patchouli perfume. Her mother wore a paint-spattered artist's smock and chopsticks in her hair. She'd recently gotten inspiration for a new painting series, and between her new boyfriend, her job at an art gallery in Hollis, and her time in the studio, Aria barely saw her.

"What are you and Noel up to tonight?" she asked, perching on the paisley wing chair she and Byron had bought at a flea market a million years ago. "That's who you're waiting for, right?"

A lump formed in Aria's throat. Truthfully, she was hoping Noel wouldn't show up for their date. That way, Aria wouldn't have to break up with him.

A's note had tortured her all day, and she'd debated saying something versus keeping quiet. If she kept the secret, she'd have to end things. On the other hand, if she outed Noel's father, Noel would hate her and probably break up with her anyway. And how the h.e.l.l had A found out? How did A know everything?

Aria had no doubt that A would spill Mr. Kahn's cross-dressing secret if she didn't act soon. It was bad enough that she still felt like she'd ruined her own family-

she couldn't ruin Noel's, too. Only, could she really dump Noel after all they'd been through? She loved him so much.

She looked up at her mom and took a deep breath. "Do you still blame me for what happened between you and Byron?"

Ella blinked hard. "What do you mean, still?"

"I kept it a secret. If I would have said something to you, maybe you could have . . ."

Aria's mother sank further into the chair cushion. "Honey, your father put you in a horrible position. You should have never had to make the decision to tell or not to tell. Even if you had told me sooner, it wouldn't have changed anything in the end. It's not your fault." She laid a hand on Aria's thigh.

"I know, but you got so mad at me for not saying anything," Aria mumbled. Ella had kicked her out of the house, and she'd had to live with Sean Ackard, her then-boyfriend.

Ella cradled a knitted throw pillow between her hands. "I shouldn't have reacted like that. I was just so blindsided, and I had to lash out at someone." She looked up. "I'm sorry, too, honey. You shouldn't dwell over this. Things happen. And we're all happier and healthier now, right?"

Aria nodded, feeling a knot in her stomach. "But if we were to do it all over again, would you rather I told you sooner?"