day, Aria didn’t know who had texted Ali that night.
“Ask him who his favorite teacher at Rosewood is,” Aria’s younger, slightly higher voice called out from behind the camera.
Ali chuckled and looked straight into the lens. “That’s a good question for you, Aria. You should ask him if he wants to hook up with any of his teachers. In vacant parking lots.”
Aria gasped, and heard her younger self gasp on-screen, too. Ali had really said that? In front of all of them?
And then the clip was over.
Mike turned to her. There were neon-orange Dorito crumbs around his mouth. “What did she mean about hooking up with teachers? It seemed like she was only talking to you.”
A dry rasp escaped Aria’s mouth. A had told Ella that Aria had known about Byron’s affair all these years, but Mike still didn’t know. He’d be so disappointed in her.
Mike stood up. “Whatever.” Aria could tell he was trying to be all unaffected and casual, but he bumbled out of the room, knocking over a framed, signed photo of Lou Reed—Byron’s rock star hero, and one of the few Byron artifacts Ella hadn’t removed. She heard him stomp up to his bedroom and slam the door hard.
Aria put her head in her hands. This was the three-thousandth instance she wished she were back in Reykjavík, hiking to a glacier, riding her Icelandic pony, Gilda, along a dried-up volcano bed, or even eating whale blubber, which everyone in Iceland seemed to adore.
She shut off the TV, and the house became eerily silent. When she heard a rustling at the door, she jumped. In the hall, she saw her mother, lugging in several large canvas shopping bags from Rosewood’s organic market.
Ella noticed Aria and smiled wearily. “Hey, sweetie.” Since she’d kicked Byron out, Ella seemed more disheveled than usual. Her black gauzy tunic was baggier than ever, her wide-leg silk pants had a tahini stain on the thigh, and her long, brownish-black hair sat in a rat’s nest at the crown of her head.
“Let me help.” Aria took a bunch of bags from Ella’s arms. They walked into the kitchen together, hefted the bags onto the island, and started unpacking.
“How was your day?” Ella murmured.
Then Aria remembered. “Oh my God, you’ll never believe what I did,” she exclaimed, feeling a surge of giddiness. Ella glanced at her before putting the organic peanut butter away. “I went down to Hollis. Because I was looking for…you know. Her .” Aria didn’t want to say Meredith’s name. “She was teaching an art class, so I ran inside, grabbed a paintbrush, and painted a scarlet A across her chest. You know, like that woman in The Scarlet Letter ? It was awesome.”
Ella paused, holding a bag of whole-wheat pasta midair. She looked nauseated.
“She didn’t know what hit her,” Aria went on. “And then I said, ‘Now everyone will know what you’ve done.’” She grinned and spread her arms out. Taa-daa!
Ella’s eyes darted back and forth, processing this. “Do you realize that Hester Prynne is supposed to be a sympathetic character?”
Aria frowned. She was only on page eight. “I did it for you,” Aria explained quietly. “For revenge.”
“Revenge?” Ella’s voice shook. “Thanks. That makes me look really sane. Like I’m really handling this well. This is hard enough for me as it is. Don’t you realize you’ve made her look like…like a martyr?”
Aria took a step toward Ella. She hadn’t considered that. “I’m sorry….”
Then Ella crumpled against the counter and started to sob. Aria stood motionless. Her limbs felt like Sculpey clay straight out of the oven, all hardened and useless. She couldn’t fathom what her mom was going through, and she’d gone and made it worse.
Outside their kitchen window, a hummingbird landed on the replica of a whale penis Mike had bought at Reykjavík’s phallological museum. In any other circumstance, Aria would’ve pointed it out—hummingbirds were rare here, especially ones that
“Ask him who his favorite teacher at Rosewood is,” Aria’s younger, slightly higher voice called out from behind the camera.
Ali chuckled and looked straight into the lens. “That’s a good question for you, Aria. You should ask him if he wants to hook up with any of his teachers. In vacant parking lots.”
Aria gasped, and heard her younger self gasp on-screen, too. Ali had really said that? In front of all of them?
And then the clip was over.
Mike turned to her. There were neon-orange Dorito crumbs around his mouth. “What did she mean about hooking up with teachers? It seemed like she was only talking to you.”
A dry rasp escaped Aria’s mouth. A had told Ella that Aria had known about Byron’s affair all these years, but Mike still didn’t know. He’d be so disappointed in her.
Mike stood up. “Whatever.” Aria could tell he was trying to be all unaffected and casual, but he bumbled out of the room, knocking over a framed, signed photo of Lou Reed—Byron’s rock star hero, and one of the few Byron artifacts Ella hadn’t removed. She heard him stomp up to his bedroom and slam the door hard.
Aria put her head in her hands. This was the three-thousandth instance she wished she were back in Reykjavík, hiking to a glacier, riding her Icelandic pony, Gilda, along a dried-up volcano bed, or even eating whale blubber, which everyone in Iceland seemed to adore.
She shut off the TV, and the house became eerily silent. When she heard a rustling at the door, she jumped. In the hall, she saw her mother, lugging in several large canvas shopping bags from Rosewood’s organic market.
Ella noticed Aria and smiled wearily. “Hey, sweetie.” Since she’d kicked Byron out, Ella seemed more disheveled than usual. Her black gauzy tunic was baggier than ever, her wide-leg silk pants had a tahini stain on the thigh, and her long, brownish-black hair sat in a rat’s nest at the crown of her head.
“Let me help.” Aria took a bunch of bags from Ella’s arms. They walked into the kitchen together, hefted the bags onto the island, and started unpacking.
“How was your day?” Ella murmured.
Then Aria remembered. “Oh my God, you’ll never believe what I did,” she exclaimed, feeling a surge of giddiness. Ella glanced at her before putting the organic peanut butter away. “I went down to Hollis. Because I was looking for…you know. Her .” Aria didn’t want to say Meredith’s name. “She was teaching an art class, so I ran inside, grabbed a paintbrush, and painted a scarlet A across her chest. You know, like that woman in The Scarlet Letter ? It was awesome.”
Ella paused, holding a bag of whole-wheat pasta midair. She looked nauseated.
“She didn’t know what hit her,” Aria went on. “And then I said, ‘Now everyone will know what you’ve done.’” She grinned and spread her arms out. Taa-daa!
Ella’s eyes darted back and forth, processing this. “Do you realize that Hester Prynne is supposed to be a sympathetic character?”
Aria frowned. She was only on page eight. “I did it for you,” Aria explained quietly. “For revenge.”
“Revenge?” Ella’s voice shook. “Thanks. That makes me look really sane. Like I’m really handling this well. This is hard enough for me as it is. Don’t you realize you’ve made her look like…like a martyr?”
Aria took a step toward Ella. She hadn’t considered that. “I’m sorry….”
Then Ella crumpled against the counter and started to sob. Aria stood motionless. Her limbs felt like Sculpey clay straight out of the oven, all hardened and useless. She couldn’t fathom what her mom was going through, and she’d gone and made it worse.
Outside their kitchen window, a hummingbird landed on the replica of a whale penis Mike had bought at Reykjavík’s phallological museum. In any other circumstance, Aria would’ve pointed it out—hummingbirds were rare here, especially ones that
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