"Do you see why we had to leave, now?" Hanna inquires, risking a glance at me from the driver's seat, before returning her attention to the road, and pressing her foot against the accelerator even harder than she had been, before, "You and I are apparently A's new playthings."
"You and—you and I?"
"Check my phone. It's in my purse."
Reaching into the back seat to grab the Prada bag and rifle through it to reach Hanna's phone, I find that I am fighting against a startling sense of apprehension, both over the repeated taunts from our mystery tormenter, and the breakneck speed Hanna was using to barrel down the road leading away from Noel's. I still do not understand it—why my friends and I appear to have earned ourselves a barrage of attacks from an unknown source, when not a one of us have been able to come up with a reason why we might deserve such a thing to begin with. But regardless of whether I can understand it or not, I find my heart sinking as I open Hanna's phone, and read the text she must have received at around the same time I received my own…
Heads up, hon. Hefty Hanna never gets the guy. –A
"What was this about?" I ask her, stowing her phone back in the bottom of her purse, and twisting around in my seat to place it back where I found it in hopes that she might be persuaded to be forthcoming if I am not looking at her, directly. Of course, I am aware of exactly what her text must be doing to her, no matter its initial cause. And although I am somewhat hesitant to force her to give the message even the slightest bit of acknowledgement, I would be lying if I were to pretend I was not still curious, my attention once again flicking to Hanna's face as I realize she is giving me an answer far more willingly than I might have believed.
"I tried to get Sean to—commit, and he wouldn't do it."
"And 'A' saw?"
"The bitch sees everything," Hanna retorts, taking the approaching corner at such a speed that I am forced to grip the handlebar beside the door for support, "What the hell are we supposed to do?"
"Maybe we could start by slowing down?"
"I'll slow down when I'm dead, Ava."
Aware that I am not likely to have any luck in persuading her to drive a bit more carefully, given the circumstances, I do what I can to force myself to settle back in my seat, and remain calm, my thoughts turning inward in an attempt at discerning our next course of action. I have no idea where to even begin, and that prospect scares me far more than I am willing to admit.
Now more than ever, I find myself wishing that I could have had the chance to come clean with Jason at the Grille the other day, if for no other reason than to still have the relative safety of someone to confide in.
As if I could be so lucky…
A sigh escapes me before I can stop it, the squeal of the car's tires forcing me to divert my attention to the window at my right while Hanna speeds around yet another corner. For a moment, time seems to stall, my brow furrowing as the glare of oncoming headlights nearly blinds me. Belatedly, I hear Hanna's sharp intake of breath in the same moment as I become aware of the sound of a blaring horn echoing through the air as well. But in spite of the fact that instinct has every muscle I possess tensing as though I truly believe I have a shot at bracing myself for the impact I now know is coming.
The reality of the collision, of course, is a different matter, entirely.
…
I wake some time later with a start, a wince stealing over my features as the sudden movement tugs at already strained and bruised muscles, and the reflexive tears prick at my eyes while I force them open to try and discern where I am. Fluorescent light is very nearly blinding, while muted chatter makes it all but impossible to tell where one ends, and the other begins. But before I can make any sort of attempt at focusing my thoughts, the sensation of a hand resting upon my arm causes my attention to zero in on its source, my eyes only widening as I realize exactly who it is that is by my side.
"Spence?"
"What the hell happened to you?" My sister demands, her hand squeezing my own as though if she lets me go, she fears I will simply slip away, "Hanna said that a car just came out of nowhere—"
"Hanna? She's—she's okay?"
"They're checking her out right now," Spencer confirms, her gaze sweeping over me for a moment in silence, before she elaborates further, "From the looks of things, she made it out with just a few scrapes and bruises."
"And me?"
"Much of the same. They'll probably be along shortly to check you out, as well."
"Thank God," I murmur, sagging back against the pillow, though my hand still remains rather firmly clutched in Spencer's the entire time, "I can't—does Mom know?"
"Not yet."
"Thank God."
"Is that all that you have to say for yourself?" Spencer demands, incredulity lacing her tone as she removes her hand from mine, and tucks a stray lock of dark hair behind her ear, "What the hell were you and Hanna doing, stealing Sean's car?"
"To be fair, I had nothing to do with Hanna deciding to play grand theft auto," I reply, wincing once again as the act of attempting to scoot up so that my back rests against the pillows instead of my head tugs at my already aggravated abdominal muscles, "I just—she saw the text, and knew I needed to get out of there."
"And the crash?"
"If I knew what caused it, believe me, I'd tell you. Is the other driver okay?"
"What other driver?"
"The—there was a car coming straight at us. I—I saw the headlights, and then Hanna swerved, and—"
"Ava, they found no other car at the scene," Spencer says, her expression holding an intriguing mix of both concern, and something that suggests she might just be questioning my sanity, "Just Sean's car, smashed against a tree."
"So, they just—what, they just think Hanna lost control and drove into the tree all by herself?"
"Yeah. That's exactly what they think."
Bringing a hand up to shove at some of my hair that has fallen down across my brow, I fight against a crippling sense of anxiousness as I try to think back to the circumstances surrounding the accident as best I can. Doing so is about as effective as trying to grasp onto a wisp of fog, though that realization does not exactly dissuade me from persisting, regardless—
I saw that car. I know I did. So why is it that the more I sit here trying to remember specific details in an effort to make my claim seem less fictitious, the harder it is to focus on anything concrete?
As if she can sense my disquiet, I find that I am momentarily startled back into some semblance of awareness at the renewed sensation of Spencer's hand latching onto my own, my eyes meeting hers while I do what I can to quiet my racing heart. On some level, I know that if I cannot force myself back into some sort of calm, it may jeopardize my ability to return home. And regardless of how I am still more than a little determined to get to the bottom of my recollection of the events leading up to what landed me in this particular predicament to begin with, I force myself to focus on Spencer alone, for the time-being, my brow furrowing as I squeeze her hand to provide what little reassurance I can before I speak.
"Did you end up finishing that paper?"
"That's what you're going to ask me about? A paper?"
"Seems better than the alternative."
"And what alternative might that be?" My sister persists, one brow lifting in obvious skepticism, despite the fact that a faint smile has started to tug at her mouth to betray her amusement over my apparent decision to change the topic of our conversation to something so mundane, "Reality?"
"As far as I'm aware, that paper is pretty real, Spence."
"You're funny."
"I know," I admit, smiling myself in response to my sister's rather predictable turn to sarcasm, and glancing down at where her hand still holds my own for a moment before going on, "And you are avoiding my question."
"I'll tell you about it later?"
"Why can't you tell me about it now?"
"Because I'd rather go find that nurse who was discharging Hanna to see when she's going to do the same for you," Spencer quips, abandoning her hold on my hand in favor of getting up, and walking over to the thin curtain I had only just realized cordoned off my bed from the rest of what I could only assume was the hospital's emergency department, "Are you okay if I step out for a minute?"
"Sure," I reply, managing a faint nod that I hope is reassuring enough for my sister to feel that I won't vanish into thin air the second she leaves me to my own devices, "And Spence?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For—for being here."
"Where else would I be, Ava? You're my sister," Spencer states, shaking her head and allowing a faint laugh to escape before she is turning from me, and ducking around the curtain to head off in search of the nurse taking care of discharge. Regardless of whatever uncertainties I still possess regarding both the crash, and the circumstances surrounding exactly how our mystery tormenter managed to snap that photo of Noel and I without leaving any trace of their presence behind, it is far more comforting than I would have dared to believe, having my sister here by my side. And although I am nowhere near done with being preoccupied over my own troubles, I cannot help but latch onto the fact that it appears there might be something Spencer is not telling me, as well.
I would have been blind had I missed her careful evasion of my simple inquiry regarding her paper, and though I knew I may not have the chance to press her about that in the immediate future, that did not mean that I would forget, either…
If she was going to be insistent upon protecting me from my demons, she could be damned sure I would be doing the same for her.
…
Returning home after my brief stint in the hospital emergency room proves to be every bit as daunting as I had feared, between my mother's near to endless interrogation over the exact circumstances of the crash Hanna and I had been involved in, and my father's equally endless threats to hunt down the car I claimed I had seen himself. Fortunately for me, both of them seem to take me at my word in that regard, and, with Spencer's help, I am able to convince them quickly enough that Hanna is not at fault for the entire affair.
The only thing that remains, it seems, is convincing them that I am more than capable of fending for myself the next few days, so that they can travel to New York for some seminar or another, and a bit of relaxation as well.
With that task finally accomplished, Spencer and I have succeeded in holing ourselves up in her room to attempt making some headway on the mountains of homework we still have yet to finish, though neither one of us appears to be having much luck in that regard. For my part, I seem to be rather adept at simply staring at the screen of my laptop while the cursor on the document I have opened up blinks at my lack of progress rather mockingly, if truth be told. But before I can spend too much time doing exactly that I find myself distracted by the sound of an exasperated huff, my gaze flicking to where Spencer sits at her desk with her head held gingerly in both hands.
"If I have to look at one more of these questions about cell biology, I'm going to lose it."
"Ooh—keep looking. And let me get my cell to take some video," I tease, shoving my laptop away from me, and sprawling on my sister's bed in such a way that I can at least attempt to stretch my still throbbing muscles. The painkiller that the emergency room doctor discharged me with has dulled some of the discomfort, of course, though I am still poignantly aware of it every time I make an attempt to move too quickly. Not for the first time, I find my thoughts straying once again to Hanna, my displeasure over not having been able to see that she was alright myself before she left hardly tempered by the knowledge that her mother had clearly thought she was sound enough to read her the riot act as she led her out to their car.
Whether or not her mother thought so, I was still nearly frantic over the fact that had things gone just a bit differently, one or both of us might not have walked away from the event after all…
"Ava—don't go there," Spencer cautions, the worry that is so apparent in her words rather effectively snapping me out of my own internal musings, and forcing me to glance at her directly as she vacates the chair before her desk, and moves to perch on the edge of her bed instead, "You're fine. Hanna is fine. And you'll see her again at school on Monday."
"How did you know I was thinking I wouldn't?"
"Because you've never been one to master your facial expressions. And I've been looking at them since we were born."
"And I apparently forgot you were practically baby Einstein," I retort, glancing down at the bedspread while my fingers toy with an errant thread, and frowning just a bit before voicing what has really been plaguing my mind almost since we arrived back at home, "Do you think—do you think that maybe our mutual friend was in that other car?"
"Honestly, Ava? I don't know what to think," Spencer admits, her brow furrowing just a bit as though the thought of not having an answer for a question that is as impossible as this one is preposterous, "You're still set on the fact that there was a car?"
"I am. I know what I saw, Spence."
"I'm not saying you don't. I just—"
"You just what?" I demand, my exasperation with my own memories, and the fact that near everyone I've spoken to since the event seems determined to discount them without a second thought slipping into my tone, no matter how hard I try to avoid it. I know Spencer is not accusing me of lying. I just know it. But regardless of my own personal awareness, it is as though some sort of instinct is rising up in defense of my assertion, anyway, my teeth coming to worry at my lower lip for just a moment before I risk speaking again, "I'm sorry. I just don't get why literally no one else is willing to admit that the presence of another car is even possible."
"Because there was apparently absolutely zero forensic evidence at the scene to indicate one was there."
"Yeah, well maybe it was meant to look that way."
"What do you mean by that?" Spencer inquires, holding up her hands as I clearly appear to have jumped on the defensive once again, and hurrying to elaborate so that I might hopefully stand down, "I mean—do you—do you think someone might have tampered with things?"
"Someone has already been tampering with things," I state, wincing as I attempt to force myself into a seated position, and waving Spencer off when she almost immediately moves to try and help, "From where I'm standing, this person is already always one step ahead of us. Is it that much of a stretch to think maybe they're good at making it look like we're pulling facts out of thin air, too?"
"I suppose not. But why would they risk tampering with evidence from a crash?"
"Why would they risk discovery themselves by trying to push police like Wilden towards us when it comes to suspects in Ali's disappearance?"
"Because whoever is doing this is seriously messed up," Spencer supplies, running both hands through her hair, and rumpling it up from its already semi-disheveled state to give evidence to her apparent frustration, "And they've moved from taunting texts, to vehicular homicide, apparently."
"I'm pretty sure I'd take vehicular homicide over facing the entire school on Monday," I confess, finally managing to sit erect so that I can reach behind me and grab one of Spencer's pillows as though I truly believe that clutching it tightly to my chest will shield me against whatever is to come, "Unless of course you think not everyone in our class got that picture."
"You and I both know we won't be that lucky."
"Yeah. I guess we do."
"Have you thought about telling Mom and Dad?"
"About what? The fact that I got drunk and damn near stripped down to my bra and panties on Noel's deck? Yeah, that will go over really well."
"I mean have you thought about telling them about the text?" Spencer clarifies, seemingly aware of how her inquiry has me almost automatically tensing, and looking at the pillow clutched between my hands, as opposed to meeting her gaze directly, "Maybe they could get out ahead of it, try and find out who sent it in the first place."
"Or they could just ground me for an eternity, and I'd never see the light of day again."
"Yeah, but if you were grounded, maybe A couldn't get any more information on you."
"Very funny, Spencer."
"I'm not entirely sure that I'm kidding."
"Well I'm entirely sure that you should be," I quip, rolling my eyes in obvious exasperation, and yet finding that even in spite of that, I am not entirely able to avoid the laugh that breaks free in response to Spencer's assertion, "Trust me, I'd go stir crazy."
"Stir crazy is a damn sight better than dead."
"Spencer—"
"Well it is," My sister insists, her arms folding against her chest as she scoots a bit further back on the mattress to give herself room to cross her legs, as well, "You've got to trust someone, sometime."
"I do trust someone. Several someones, in fact."
"Hanna, Emily, and Aria don't count, Ava. Not in that way, and you know it."
"They're our best friends, Spencer. Who else are we going to trust if not them?" I ask, regarding my sister with an expression that is nothing short of incredulous, though I am also forced to recognize, almost immediately, that I know where she is coming from before she even says a word.
"What I mean, Ava, is that maybe it's time one of us wised up and went to an adult about all of this."
"And what do we do when they think we're just trying to pull their strings? These 'adults' you're talking about already aren't believing Hanna and I about the other car—"
"Maybe Mom and Dad would."
"Or maybe they'd use it as another excuse to keep me locked away in my room for all eternity."
"And again—it's better than dead," Spencer repeats, startling me with the sudden vehemence in her tone, and consequently forcing me to look her in the eye once again, "I'm not saying you have to tell them, and I'm definitely not going to do it myself. It's just—something to consider. That's all."
"Point noted," I assure her, managing a faint smile, and hoping that she sees the fact that I am sincere in my reply, no matter how much I may have just protested her idea to begin with, "I promise, Spence. I'll consider it."
Apparently satisfied with my reply, at least for now, Spencer swings her legs over the edge of the bed so that she can get up and head back to her desk once again. After taking a seat, and running a finger over the mousepad to wake her laptop from sleep mode, she seems content to settle back into the task of attempting to complete some homework—and that leaves me to return my attention back to my own computer screen, the blinking cursor no less illuminating as to how I should begin my history paper than it had been, before.
No matter how fervently I tried to ignore them, my thoughts did not seem capable of straying very far from exactly I might face upon my return to school, Monday…
Something tells me it will be akin to those dreams you get where you have to give a huge speech in front of hundreds of people, and you aren't wearing a stitch of clothing to cover yourself and preserve your pride.
…
Hello there, angels! And welcome to chapter fifteen! I know that this one is a bit more of a filler than anything else, in terms of action, so I hope that fact isn't too objectionable. The muses were a bit more than adamant that I switch up the scene where Hanna crashes Sean's car, and I wasn't able to redirect them in any way. Oops?
As always, my heartfelt thanks go out to each and every one of you that has taken the time to read, follow, favorite and review this story so far (Ineveryfandom, Hope10, Loving Liar, Princess1, Warriorqueen, and Lady Bird, this means you)! I would be absolutely nowhere without your kind words of support, and as always, I cannot wait to see what you think of this latest installment! Hopefully it wasn't too boring?
Until next time, dolls…
MOMM