Twisted (26 page)

“Stop it!” Spencer screamed, wriggling into her skirt from last night and catapulting over the bed to the two of them. “Just stop it! Please!”

Mr. Pennythistle didn’t seem to hear. Zach crumpled against the wall, but Mr. Pennythistle only shook him harder. “When will you listen?” he growled. “When will you understand?”

Spencer tugged Mr. Pennythistle’s arm. “Please stop! It wasn’t what it looked like! I swear!”

“Spencer . . .” Zach eyed her over his father’s shoulder. “Just go. You don’t need to see this.”

“No!” Zach was Spencer’s soon-to-be stepbrother, and she needed to protect him. She pulled at the back of Mr. Pennythistle’s oxford shirt, tearing it. “Zach didn’t touch me! He’s gay!”

Mr. Pennythistle immediately let go of his son and whirled around to stare at her. “
What
did you say?”

Spencer glanced at Zach’s stricken face. He shook his head desperately, like he couldn’t believe what she’d said either, but what was she supposed to do, let his father whale on him some more?

Zach covered his face with his hands. His father turned back to him. “Is what she said
true
?”

A gurgling sound emerged from between Zach’s lips. His dad stepped away from him as though he were toxic. Then, abruptly, he reached out his arm and punched the faux-wood wall next to Zach’s head. Spencer jumped back and yelped. Mr. Pennythistle punched the wall again and again. Plaster flew everywhere. When he was finished, he bent over at the waist and placed his bloody fists on his knees. His face twisted with anguish. He looked like he was about to cry.

A small, timid knock sounded on the door. “Nicholas?” Spencer’s mother called. “Is everything okay?”

No one said a word. After a moment, Mr. Pennythistle turned and stormed out of the room, slamming the door so hard that the walls shivered. Spencer could hear him talking to her mom in the hall.

She dared to peek at Zach. He looked rattled, but okay. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why did you tell him that?”

Spencer reached out to him. “I thought he was hurting you!”

Zach’s lips warped into a sneer, and he took a step back from her. He looked at her with utter hatred, a look she thought she’d never see in him. “I asked you to keep it a secret, but I guess that was too much to ask of a Pretty Little Liar,” he snarled. “Rot in hell, bitch.”

Before Spencer could protest, he scooped up his coat, shoved on his shoes, and stormed out of the room, too. The door slammed once more. And then, silence.

Spencer sank to the mattress, knocking one of the pillows on the bed to the floor. It still had an indentation from Zach’s skull. The mattress was still warm from his body.

Another chunk of plaster fell from the wall to the ground. Mr. Pennythistle’s blood dripped onto the carpet from the hole he’d created. It reminded Spencer of the dream she’d had that morning: the line of blood trickling from Ali’s ear.
I know what you did.

Beep.

It was Spencer’s BlackBerry, which she’d set on the nightstand before falling asleep last night. Even from across the room, she could tell that the screen said
ONE NEW TEXT
.

No
, Spencer thought.
Please. Not now.
But she couldn’t ignore it. She had to press
READ
.

Watch out, Spencer. Eventually, all secrets wash ashore. I
think you know exactly what I mean. –A

Chapter 30

She’s smarter than she looks

The Lenape medical center was nothing but a squat, square building that smelled like antiseptic and cough drops. A TV in the corner silently played an infomercial about a magical potato peeler, the chair Aria was sitting on was making her butt fall asleep, and she was about to lose her mind from the constant drone of the automaton-like National Weather Service voice on the radio. Apparently, this area was due for two more feet of snow tomorrow. Not that they’d stay the extra day to ski. Not after what had happened with Klaudia.

Aria strained to listen for anything coming from the examination room—moans of pain, screams of agony, a heart monitor flat-lining. The room was deadly quiet. Eric and Christopher Kahn lounged on the couches, reading old copies of
Sports Illustrated
. Noel paced around the small space, on the phone with his mother. “Yeah, Mom . . . she just
fell
, I don’t know . . . the ski patrol got her . . . we’re at the med center now . . . I hope she’s okay, but I don’t know.”

Just hearing Noel rehash the event made Aria feel shaky and sick. The last few hours had been ugly and surreal. After Klaudia fell off the lift and didn’t move, several skiers stopped around her. A ski guard appeared next, and then a snowmobile with a rescue sled. Someone knelt down and felt Klaudia’s pulse. They screamed in Klaudia’s ear, but Aria couldn’t tell if she answered—that was about the time the lift reached the top of the hill and she’d stumbled off.

Now, everyone was waiting to see what damage had been done. Apparently the ski patrol had been able to wake Klaudia up before they’d loaded her onto the rescue sled and pulled her down the mountain, but she’d been in a lot of pain. An ambulance was waiting for her at the bottom by the time Aria butt-slid down the treacherous hill, and they’d all come here. This didn’t seem like a very decent trauma center, though. It looked more like a DMV.

Noel slumped back down in the plastic chair next to Aria. “My mom’s beside herself. She wanted to come up here and take care of Klaudia, but I said she should wait.”

“She must be so worried,” Aria mumbled, closing the copy of
Ladies’ Home Journal
in her lap. She’d been reading the same line of an article about how to make prize-winning cheesecake for the last twenty minutes.

Noel leaned closer. “So what happened, exactly? How did Klaudia fall?”

Aria looked at him, feeling a mix of guilt and regret. Noel had arrived on the scene a few minutes after everything happened; he hadn’t seen a thing. They’d been too keyed up to talk on the drive here, but he kept gazing at Aria suspiciously, as if he sensed she’d done something awful.

“I’m not really sure.” It was the truth—she hadn’t
meant
to push Klaudia off the lift. Shove her away, yeah. But not hurt her.

“Were you guys fighting or something?” Noel searched Aria’s face. “Did she, like, jump?”

Aria shook her head. “She just . . . slipped off. It was really weird.”

Noel crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a long, discerning look that made Aria’s skin prickle. He didn’t believe her. But what was she supposed to do, tell him the real story? That Klaudia said
I’m going to fuck your boyfriend
in perfect English, without even an accent? That Klaudia had lunged for her, looking crazed and vengeful? Noel would just accuse Aria of being jealous again.

She turned away, fearing that if she stared at him for much longer she’d blurt out everything—and not just what happened on the lift, either. The stuff about A, too. The stuff about Jamaica. The stuff Aria couldn’t block out on the lift today, the horrible thing she’d done. The horrible thing A knew about.

Then again, maybe what she did wasn’t as horrific as she’d thought all these months. If A
was
Ali—and who else could it be?—then Aria’s push hadn’t killed her.

The door to the treatment rooms opened, and a female doctor in a crisp white coat emerged. “Ms. Huusko is resting,” she said. “You can see her now.”

Everyone rose and followed her to the back. The doctor parted a pink-striped curtain, and there was Klaudia, lying on a cot with a bulky white cast on her ankle. Her blond hair spilled across the pillow. Her plain cotton gown gaped at the bosom. Her lips were pink and glossy as though she’d recently applied a fresh coat of lipstick. She’d managed to look ready for sex even in the hospital.

“Oh my God, Klaudia,” Aria said, feeling a rush of remorse despite Klaudia’s perky appearance. “Are you okay?”

“Does it hurt?” Noel and the other boys asked too, gathering around her bed.

“I fine.” Klaudia simpered at all of them, all traces of her excellent English enunciation gone. “Just a little owie.”

“She has a broken ankle.” A nurse bustled in and wrapped a blood pressure cuff around Klaudia’s arm. “That’s pretty minor, considering the accident she had. Luckily, her fall was toward the top of the slope. If it had been in the middle, she would’ve been in real trouble.”

“Yes, is crazy!” Klaudia pretended to wipe sweat off her brow. “I never fall from lift before! Oof!”

“So what happened?” Noel perched on the edge of Klaudia’s bed.

Klaudia licked her lips and eyed Aria. The only sound in the room was the nurse pumping up the blood pressure cuff. Every muscle in Aria’s body tensed, waiting for the blow. Of course Klaudia was going to rat her out. She wanted to sleep with Noel—this would get Aria out of the way.

Finally, Klaudia shifted higher in her bed. “It is blur. I no remember.”

“Are you sure?” Noel curled his hands over his knees. “It just seems crazy to me that you’d slip off a lift. You’ve been skiing for years.”

Klaudia shrugged, looking faint. “I don’t know,” she said weakly, her eyelids fluttering closed.

Eric punched Noel’s arm. “Dude, don’t push her.”

“Maybe she has amnesia or something,” Christopher said.

Aria grabbed the bed for balance, her heart still racing. Could that be it? Had Klaudia lost her memory?

The doctor parted the curtain. “Don’t overwhelm her too much, guys. Because Ms. Huusko hit her head, we want to observe her for a while to make sure she isn’t showing any signs of a concussion. If she is, we’ll have to airlift her to a bigger facility. If not, we can probably discharge her tomorrow morning.”

Everyone nodded. “I’ll book the rooms for an extra night,” Noel said in a perfunctory voice, whipping out his iPhone.

“Oh.” Aria looked at him. “I can’t stay an extra night. I promised my dad I’d babysit Lola.”

“Fine.” Noel didn’t even look up from his Google search. “Do you mind taking the bus home?”

Aria opened her mouth, then shut it again. She’d hoped Noel would drive her back to Rosewood himself. Couldn’t the other brothers stay here with Klaudia? Couldn’t he come back tomorrow to retrieve them?

But Noel didn’t offer, and so Aria shrugged into her coat and dug out her phone to check Greyhound times. “What time do you think you’ll be back tomorrow?” she asked Noel. “Maybe we can hang out in the evening.”

Noel’s head shot up. “We don’t even know if Klaudia’s going to be okay yet. I don’t think we should make plans until we do.”

“Oh.” Aria backed away from him. “Right. Sorry.”

“And anyway, I should probably hang out with Klaudia for the next few days.” Noel glanced at Klaudia’s sleeping shape. “It’s the least that I can do. She’s probably going to be in a lot of pain. She’ll need someone to help her get around.”

“O-of course.” Aria fought back tears.

The next Greyhound bus to Philly was in an hour. Aria could walk to the station from the clinic, and Noel could grab the rest of her things from the hotel and bring them home tomorrow. Just as Aria was backing out of the tiny curtained-off area, something made her turn. Klaudia’s eyes had opened, and she stared straight at Aria. There was a tiny, victorious smile on her face. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her small, pale hand, and gave Aria the finger.

Aria gasped. The realization was like a rush of cold air. Klaudia didn’t have amnesia—she remembered everything on the ski lift with perfect clarity. And now she had exactly what she wanted. Now she had something to hold over Aria’s head. Now, Klaudia had Aria in her power.

Just like A did.

Chapter 31

Congratulations, now eff-off

Later that afternoon, Emily pulled into her driveway just as an ad blared over the radio. “
The devastating deceit. The identity twists. The lives at stake. Get the whole story tonight on the anniversary of the Poconos fire and her death.
Pretty Little Killer
. Brought to you by . . .
”

“Ugh,” Emily moaned, switching it off. She couldn’t wait until this day was over and the advertisements went away.
She
certainly didn’t want to relive the day of Ali’s death—any of them. Especially since she wasn’t even sure if Real Ali was truly dead.

She got out of the car, pulled her swim gear bag over her shoulder, and walked up the snowy front path. Before she opened the door, she tried texting Chloe one more time.
I need to talk to you. It isn’t my fault. I didn’t know how to tell you.
She’d texted Chloe five times since the swim meet, but Chloe hadn’t written back.

Sighing, she slipped her key in the door, but the knob turned easily already. That was strange—her parents usually kept the door locked tight, afraid of intruders. “Hello?” Emily called in the foyer. No answer. That was weird, too—her parents always at least mumbled some sign of their presence, even if they were beyond pissed at her. The house seemed occupied, though—there was an unfamiliar scent in the air and a nagging sense that someone had just walked down the hall.

The hairs on Emily’s arms stood on end. Various scenarios flipped through her head. What if A was
here
? What if A had hurt her family? Maybe A—
Ali
—was pulling out all the stops. Maybe this was the day everything was going down.

A horrible thought stopped her cold. Today was the day of reckoning, the anniversary of Ali’s death, the day she’d tried to kill them. Naturally this was the day she’d come back to finish them off.

“H-hello?” Emily called out again, creeping down the hall toward the kitchen. A sound made her stop and turn. Was that . . . a
giggle
? Her heart banged in her chest. It was coming from the living room, which was closed off to the hall by French doors. Those doors were
never
closed.