good-bye and Emily drifted over to her mother and her choir friends, she wondered what on earth she’d just agreed to. She couldn’t have just made a date with him. They were going sledding just as friends. She’d set him straight—so to speak—the next time she saw him.
Only, as Emily watched Isaac drift away through the crowd, stopping every so often to talk to other kids or members of the congregation, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to just be friends. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure what she wanted at all.
7
ONE BIG HAPPY HASTINGS FAMILY
Early Tuesday morning, Spencer followed her sister up the steps of the Rosewood courthouse, the wind whipping at her back. Her family and relatives were meeting Ernest Calloway, the Hastings family lawyer, for the reading of Nana’s will.
Melissa held the front door for her. The courthouse hallway was drafty and dim, lit only by a few yellow hallway lights—it was way too early for anyone who worked here to have arrived yet. Spencer shivered with dread—the last time she’d been here was for Ian’s arraignment. And the next time she’d be here would be at the end of this week, to testify at his trial.
Their footsteps echoed on the hard marble floors as they climbed the stairs. The conference room where Mr. Calloway had scheduled the reading was still locked tight; Spencer and Melissa were the first to arrive. Spencer slid down the hallway’s wall to the Oriental rug, staring at a large oil painting of a constipated-looking William W. Rosewood, who had founded the town in the seventeenth century with a bunch of other Quakers. For more than a hundred years, the town of Rosewood had belonged to only three farming families and had had more cows than people. The King James Mall had been built on top of an enormous old dairy pasture.
Melissa slumped against the wall next to her, pressing yet another pink Kleenex to her eyes. She’d been crying on and off since Nana had died. Both the sisters listened to the wind pressing against the windows, making the whole building creak. Melissa took a sip of the cappuccino she’d grabbed from Starbucks before they arrived. She caught Spencer’s eye. “Want some?”
Spencer nodded. Melissa had been especially nice lately, a bizarre shift from the sisters’ usual pattern of cat-fighting and one-upmanship—with Melissa generally winning. It was probably because their parents were peeved at Melissa, too. She’d lied to the police for years, saying that she and Ian, who was her boyfriend at the time, had been together the whole night Ali went missing. Truthfully, Melissa had woken up at one point and found Ian gone. She’d been too afraid to say anything because she and Ian had been smashed, and Little Miss Perfect Valedictorian didn’t do such tawdry things as get drunk and share a bed with her boyfriend. Still, Melissa seemed extra charitable this morning, which was setting off little warning bells in Spencer’s head.
Melissa took a long sip of her coffee and eyed Spencer carefully. “Have you heard some of the news stories? They’re saying there’s not enough evidence for Ian to be convicted.”
Spencer tensed. “I heard a report about that this morning.” But she’d also heard a rebuttal from Jackson Hughes, the Rosewood D.A., saying there was plenty of evidence, and that the people of Rosewood deserved to have this horrible crime put to rest. Spencer and her old friends had met with Mr. Hughes countless times to discuss the trial. Spencer had met with Jackson a few more sessions than the others because, according to Mr. Hughes, her testimony—that she remembered seeing Ali and Ian together the split second before Ali vanished—was the most important piece of evidence of all. He’d gone through what questions she was going to be asked, how she should respond, and how she should and shouldn’t act. To Spencer, it didn’t seem that different from performing a part in a play, except instead of everyone clapping at the end,
Only, as Emily watched Isaac drift away through the crowd, stopping every so often to talk to other kids or members of the congregation, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to just be friends. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure what she wanted at all.
7
ONE BIG HAPPY HASTINGS FAMILY
Early Tuesday morning, Spencer followed her sister up the steps of the Rosewood courthouse, the wind whipping at her back. Her family and relatives were meeting Ernest Calloway, the Hastings family lawyer, for the reading of Nana’s will.
Melissa held the front door for her. The courthouse hallway was drafty and dim, lit only by a few yellow hallway lights—it was way too early for anyone who worked here to have arrived yet. Spencer shivered with dread—the last time she’d been here was for Ian’s arraignment. And the next time she’d be here would be at the end of this week, to testify at his trial.
Their footsteps echoed on the hard marble floors as they climbed the stairs. The conference room where Mr. Calloway had scheduled the reading was still locked tight; Spencer and Melissa were the first to arrive. Spencer slid down the hallway’s wall to the Oriental rug, staring at a large oil painting of a constipated-looking William W. Rosewood, who had founded the town in the seventeenth century with a bunch of other Quakers. For more than a hundred years, the town of Rosewood had belonged to only three farming families and had had more cows than people. The King James Mall had been built on top of an enormous old dairy pasture.
Melissa slumped against the wall next to her, pressing yet another pink Kleenex to her eyes. She’d been crying on and off since Nana had died. Both the sisters listened to the wind pressing against the windows, making the whole building creak. Melissa took a sip of the cappuccino she’d grabbed from Starbucks before they arrived. She caught Spencer’s eye. “Want some?”
Spencer nodded. Melissa had been especially nice lately, a bizarre shift from the sisters’ usual pattern of cat-fighting and one-upmanship—with Melissa generally winning. It was probably because their parents were peeved at Melissa, too. She’d lied to the police for years, saying that she and Ian, who was her boyfriend at the time, had been together the whole night Ali went missing. Truthfully, Melissa had woken up at one point and found Ian gone. She’d been too afraid to say anything because she and Ian had been smashed, and Little Miss Perfect Valedictorian didn’t do such tawdry things as get drunk and share a bed with her boyfriend. Still, Melissa seemed extra charitable this morning, which was setting off little warning bells in Spencer’s head.
Melissa took a long sip of her coffee and eyed Spencer carefully. “Have you heard some of the news stories? They’re saying there’s not enough evidence for Ian to be convicted.”
Spencer tensed. “I heard a report about that this morning.” But she’d also heard a rebuttal from Jackson Hughes, the Rosewood D.A., saying there was plenty of evidence, and that the people of Rosewood deserved to have this horrible crime put to rest. Spencer and her old friends had met with Mr. Hughes countless times to discuss the trial. Spencer had met with Jackson a few more sessions than the others because, according to Mr. Hughes, her testimony—that she remembered seeing Ali and Ian together the split second before Ali vanished—was the most important piece of evidence of all. He’d gone through what questions she was going to be asked, how she should respond, and how she should and shouldn’t act. To Spencer, it didn’t seem that different from performing a part in a play, except instead of everyone clapping at the end,
Similar Books
