She felt that same black, gummy nastiness she’d felt with Aria the other day ooze over her. She turned to the row of photographs along the wall instead, grabbing the big frame of Melissa’s senior picture. “That’s a pretty foul thing to do to your sister, Spence,” she said. “He’s your sister’s boyfriend.”
Spencer squinted. “So?”
Ali looked into Melissa’s eyes in the photograph. They were the same blue as her own. “I know you hate her, but that’s low, even for you.”
“But you told me to go for him!” Spencer bellowed, her voice cracking.
Ali frowned. “No, I didn’t.”
Now Spencer was on her feet. “Yes, you did! Don’t you remember Melissa’s party? You said, You should totally go for him. All’s fair in love and war.”
Ali crossed her arms over her chest. “Well, I’ve changed my mind. And anyway, I didn’t think you’d actually do it.”
Spencer stomped over to the corner of the room and aimlessly stared out the window. The view was of Melissa’s barn. There was a light on inside; Melissa must have been home. “I really like him,” she said tremulously, her eyes suddenly glistening with tears. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”
Ali sighed and stood up. “I’d be happier if you liked someone else.”
Realization washed across Spencer’s face. “Do you like him?”
Ali shook her head sharply. “No. I just think it’s wrong. And I think you should tell Melissa what you did.”
“I can’t!”
Ali sank into one hip. “Yes, you can, Spence. And if you don’t, I will.”
Spencer’s eyes searched Ali’s face as if she’d never seen her before. After a moment, she turned to the side and let out a small shriek. “Maybe I don’t need you as a friend anymore,” she growled through gritted teeth.
Ali laughed. “C’mon, Spence. You’d be nothing without me.”
“That’s not friendship. I’m tired of you always trying to be better than me.”
Ali snorted but didn’t take the bait. “Besides, if we’re no longer friends, then I have absolutely no reason not to tell Melissa what happened. I’m only keeping my mouth shut because I care about you so very much.” She blinked innocently.
Spencer ran a hand down her forehead. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She walked over to her books, gathered them up in her arms, and marched angrily out of the room, dropping a few index cards as she went. She didn’t come back to pick them up, and Ali stared at her neat, even handwriting. Svengali, it said. Definition: person who, with evil intent, controls another person by persuasion or deceit. The Svengali may feign kindness and use manipulation to get the other person to yield his or her autonomy.
That’s me, Ali thought grimly. It’s who my family has turned me into.
She walked through the bushes and into her yard. But just as she was about to open the front door to her house, her skin prickled. It felt like there was someone standing behind her, watching, but when she turned, the street was empty. She narrowed her eyes at the Cavanaughs’ house across the street. The blinds were drawn. No lights were on.
Something fluttered out of the doorjamb and fell to her feet. She bent down, picked it up, and frowned at the Polaroid photo before her. It was the picture she’d taken of herself and Ian at Romeo and Juliet a few weeks before. Only now there was red-lipsticked writing over her and Ian’s smiling faces. Ali drew in a breath as she read the message, then looked around once more.
“Hello?” she said quietly, her voice cracking. “Ali?” No answer.
Swallowing hard, she looked down at the message once more. You’re dead, bitch, it said, in handwriting that looked eerily like her sister’s.
22
DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL
On Thursday afternoon, Ali and Aria stood in the aisles of Sparrow, a dusty record store in the heart of Hollis’s shopping district. Cut Copy played over the speakers, and a couple of unwashed-looking college kids stood at the registers, bopping to the music with their eyes closed. Sparrow was one of the only stores left in the Philadelphia area that sold actual record albums. Even though Ali’s family didn’t even own a record player, it was fun to flip through the stacks, looking at the album covers.
“I’m really excited for this party,” Aria said as she rifled through the dance records. “That was nice of you to throw it, Ali.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Ali said calmly. Then she looked down at her beeping phone. For once, it wasn’t a call from an anonymous number, but a text from Spencer. Took the history final today, it said. Do you want the answer key?
That’s okay, Ali wrote back, feeling a ripple of satisfaction. This was the third bargaining text she’d received from Spencer today, all to keep Ali from saying anything to Melissa. In the first text, Spencer had said Ali could have her Burberry tote instead of just borrow it. In the second, she’d said she was working her hardest to get the barn for the sleepover. Ali could probably ask for the moon right now and Spencer would offer to pull it down with a lasso. It felt good to have Spencer back in her control. “Maybe I should get into DJing,” Aria murmured, her bangle bracelets clanging together as she picked up a big pair of plastic headphones and clapped them over her ears. “Do I look cool? Maybe a college boy would be into it.”
“You look like an air-traffic controller,” Ali said, ripping them off her. “Big headphones screw up your hair.”