Emily bit her lip and kept her head down. She had to get out of here. She had to escape. But she couldn’t find Wilden, who could escort her back to her car, and she didn’t want to go outside alone. Then she saw the Hastingses’ powder room right off the kitchen. The door was slightly open, and the light was off. Emily scampered inside, but when she went to shut the door, someone’s foot was in the way.
Isaac pushed his way in. “Hey.” He sounded annoyed. “What is going on?”
Emily let out a small squeak and shot to the very corner of the room, her arms tightly around her chest. The powder room was bigger than most master baths, with a little seating area, an ornate mirror, and a separate room for the toilet. Underneath the heavy, cloying smell of the jasmine candle on the vanity was a slight tinge of vomit.
Isaac didn’t follow her to the corner. He remained by the door, his posture very straight and guarded. “You’re acting kind of…crazy,” he said.
Emily settled down on the peach-colored chaise and picked at a tiny run in her stockings, too nervous to answer. Her secrets throbbed painfully inside of her.
“Are you embarrassed to be seen with me?” Isaac went on. “Is it because I told that Spencer girl my dad was the caterer? Should I not have said that?”
Emily pressed her palms to her eyes. She couldn’t believe Isaac thought her weird behavior was his fault. Again. A feeling of dread slowly settled down around her shoulders like a sheet. Even if she managed to divert this disaster, there would be another one, and another one. And finally, at the end of all that, there would be A…Ian. And now that Ian had escaped, he was capable of anything. Let this be a warning, he’d written after Maya had shown up at the Chinese restaurant. Ian had Emily right where he wanted her.
Unless she made things right.
Emily looked up at Isaac, her throat tight. She just had to get this over with quick, like pulling off a Band-Aid. “Do you remember that girl in China Rose?” she blurted out. Isaac looked at her blankly, shrugging. Emily took a deep breath. “She and I used to be…a couple.”
Everything else tumbled out at lightning speed. She talked about how she’d kissed Ali in her tree house in seventh grade. And how she’d fallen for Maya instantly, intoxicated by her banana gum. Emily explained the A notes, how she’d tried to date Toby Cavanaugh to prove to herself that she liked guys, how a picture of her and Maya kissing had been passed around at a swim meet, and how the whole school knew. She told Isaac about Tree Tops, the gay-away program her parents had forced her into, and that the real reason she’d gone to Iowa was because her parents couldn’t accept her sexuality. She also said she’d met a girl named Trista in Iowa and had kissed her, too.
When she finished, she glanced up at Isaac. He looked green and was tapping one foot steadily and nervously…or maybe angrily.
Emily lowered her head. “I understand if you don’t ever want to speak to me again. I didn’t want to hurt you, though—I just thought you’d hate me if you knew. But even though I didn’t tell you all this, everything I told you about how I felt about you, that I wanted you to be my boyfriend, that I really liked you, all of that—it’s all true. I thought it wasn’t possible for me to like a guy, but I guess it is.”
The little room was silent. Even the party seemed to have quieted down. Isaac ran his hands along the edge of his tie. “So, does this mean you’re…bi? Or what?”
Emily dug her nails into the chaise’s plushy silk cushions. It would be so much easier if she just said she was straight, and that the stuff that had happened with Maya and Ali and Trista had been confused mistakes. But she knew that wasn’t true.
“I don’t know what I am,” Emily answered quietly. “I wish I did, but I don’t. Maybe I just like…people. Maybe it’s the person, not necessarily their gender.”
Isaac’s eyes lowered. He let out a small, deflated sigh. When Emily heard him turn, her chest throbbed with despair. In seconds, Isaac would turn the knob, walk out the door, and be gone forever. Emily pictured Isaac’s mother standing in the front doorway, eagerly wanting to know how their fairy-tale date had gone. Her face would fall when Isaac told her the truth. Emily’s a what? she’d gasp.
“Hey.” Hot breath tickled the top of her head. Isaac loomed above her, an unreadable expression on his face. Without saying a word, he wrapped his arms around her. “It’s okay.”
“W-what?” Emily gasped.
“It’s okay,” he repeated quietly. “And I accept it. I accept you.”
Emily blinked in disbelief. “You…do?”
Isaac shook his head. “Honestly? It’s kind of a relief. I thought you were acting crazy because of me. Or because you already had a boyfriend.”
Thankful tears came to Emily’s eyes. “Not much of a chance of that,” she blurted.
Isaac snorted. “I guess not, huh?” He took Emily into his arms, kissing the side of her head.
As they were hugging, Lanie Iler, one of Emily’s swimming teammates, stuck her head into the bathroom, thinking it was unoccupied. “Oops,” she said. When Lanie saw Emily in the bathroom, hugging a guy, her eyes grew wide. But Emily no longer cared. Let them see, she thought. Let Lanie go back and tell everyone. Her days of hiding things were officially over.
26 SPENCER MEETS HER MATCH
The Hastingses’ doorbell rang for the umpteenth time, and Spencer watched from the corner as her parents welcomed the Pembrokes, one of the oldest families in the area. Mr. and Mrs. Pembroke were notorious for always bringing their animals everywhere with them, and it looked as if they’d brought two of their pets tonight: Mimsy, their yapping Pomeranian, and the stole around Hester Pembroke’s neck, which still had the fox’s head attached. As the couple stampeded hungrily for the bar, Spencer’s mother whispered something to Melissa and then drifted away. Melissa caught Spencer looking. Her hand fluttered against her dark red satin dress; then she lowered her eyes and turned away. Spencer hadn’t been able to ask Melissa how she felt about Ian’s disappearance—Melissa had made herself scarce all day.
Spencer was still unsure why they were even having the benefit, although everyone seemed to be having a fantastic time. Heavy drinking, apparently, was Rosewood’s salve for a scandal. Wilden had already had to escort Mason Byers’s parents out to their Bentley because Binky Byers had downed too many Metropolitan cocktails. Spencer had walked in on Olivia Zeigler, Naomi’s mom, throwing up in the powder room, her tanned arms clutching the sides of the sink. If only vodka could numb Spencer, too, but no matter how many Lemon Drops she covertly shot back, she remained clear-eyed and aware. It was as if some karmic force was punishing her, making her suffer through this whole ordeal sober.
She’d made a dreadful mistake, keeping the secret about Ian private. But how was she supposed to know Ian was planning to escape? She thought of the dream she’d had yesterday morning—it’s almost too late. Well, now it was.
She’d promised her friends that she would tell the cops about Ian’s visit, but as soon as Wilden had turned up on the doorstep, ready to guard the party, Spencer just…couldn’t. She couldn’t bear to hear someone else give her yet another scathing lecture about how terribly she’d screwed up—again. What good would telling Wilden do, anyway? It wasn’t as if Ian had tipped Spencer off to where he was planning to hide. The only interesting hint Ian had given was that he was on the verge of a secret that would blow her mind.