CHAPTER ONE
1 Year and Some Months Later...
"And don't forget - If you're out late walking around, make sure you bring your pepper spray. Or call a campus escort."
Both teenagers rolled their eyes good-naturedly. "I have it under control, Mom."
"All right." Mrs. Hastings took a deep breath and let it out in a loud gust.
"And be sure to call if money ever becomes tight," Mrs. Marin added, affectionately smoothing down her daughter's cowlick. "I'll do what I can to help out."
"Mo-om," Hanna whined. Her childish demeanor ironically contradicted the situation at hand. She stubbornly flattened her own hair. "We'll be fine!"
"Promise to call every weekend?" Mrs. Hastings requested. Spencer was truthfully surprised at her mother's sudden concern.
"Yes," Spencer droned.
"Okay, that's enough, ladies." Mr. Hastings picked up the rental car keys purposefully, attempting to make a statement about the time.
"One last hug," Mrs. Marin decided, wrapping her daughter in a tight embrace. She let out a deep breath to steady her emotions as she pulled away. "I love you."
"I love you too, Mom," Hanna replied, unable to resist the urge to smile.
"We need to leave now if we want to beat rush hour back to the airport," Mr. Hastings pressed.
"All right, we're ready," Mrs. Hastings responded as she and Mrs. Marin retrieved their purses.
"Bye, girls. Good luck! Get good grades!"
"Bye, Mom," Hanna said, mild irritation tainting her voice.
"Be safe," Mr. Hastings added to the growing list of demands. And with that, they were gone.
"Finally," Hanna breathed, flopping lazily down onto the couch, kicking off her pumps.
Spencer took a moment to appreciatively take in her surroundings. This was it: the proudest day of her life. Through dedication and hard work, she had earned every penny of her scholarship to the University of Michigan. And here she and Hanna were, in their very own apartment.
Hanna had enrolled in a local community college in the area, insisting that she couldn't bear the thought of Spencer "braving the big city without her." Spencer, well aware that this was Hanna's way of saying "I'll miss you too much if you leave without me," was unbelievably thankful for the companionship. She had dreaded the day in which she would have to say good-bye to her life-long friends. And as much as she knew she would miss Aria and Emily, (who were attending the Pennsylvania Academy for Fine Arts and University of Pittsburg, respectively), the notion of having Hanna at her side was comforting.
"Ugh," Hanna muttered to herself, thumbing through her planner. "Classes start on Thursday. How did that happen so fast?"
Spencer rolled her eyes. "Do we need to go through this again, Han?"
"I know, I know," Hanna dismissed with a careless wave of her hand. "Here for the education...not for the parties." As she quoted Spencer's mantra, she turned her nose up distastefully and tossed her planner across the living room frisbee-style.
"Hanna," Spencer began reproachfully, feeling a surge of mild panic at the planner's position on the otherwise spotless floor.
"Oh, relax," Hanna groaned. "It's our first mess. Enjoy the moment."
Spencer laughed bitterly, knowing that Hanna was right. She would certainly have to lower her standards for perfection if she was going to survive. So what if there was a planner in the middle of the floor?
...Right?
"I'm going to take a shower," Spencer announced. Moving all the furniture in the heat had negated this morning's washing, and she felt sweaty and disgusting.
"Have fun," Hanna declared off-handedly, snatching the remote from the coffee table.
As Spencer began making her way towards her bedroom, the ominous planner continued calling out to her, as if a demonic presence was haunting her. She paused beside it, considering.
"Spencer, leave it be," Hanna warned, as if Spencer were a curious two-year old eyeing a hot stove.
She breathed in heavily. Nope. She couldn't force herself to walk away. She picked it up and set it on the coffee table, lining the corner perfectly with the table's surface.
"Oh, God," Hanna groaned. "You're not going to make this easy, are you?"
Spencer knew she was speaking in general about the experience as a whole: college, homework, house-cleaning. And she knew the answer.
"We'll just have to compromise," she said definitively. "I'm letting it sit on the coffee table, aren't I? If I wanted to, I could have put it back in your purse. Right?"
Hanna rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Spence." Her channel surfing had subsided as she decided on re-runs of 90210. "Go shower."
"Right," Spencer reminded herself, heading once again towards her room. Once inside, she quietly shut the door. She thought distantly about how this may affect Hanna's feelings, but she knew she needed this moment of solitude and silence to soak in the transition.
Her eyes roamed the room, trying to convince her brain that this was her new home. It wasn't as though she wasn't excited to be on her own, but it was taking a certain effort to adjust. The bedroom, in truth, was perfect. Everything was set up according to Spencer's intricate blue print, and all items were in their proper places.
All except the last box she had been hesitating to unpack. In scrawl that she remembered had been written with shaky hands was "T.C." She knew what it stood for. And try as she might to dispose of the box before her latest big adventure, she had not been able to part with it. She hadn't looked inside in months for fear of emotional upheaval, but she knew she couldn't let it go.
She slowly approached the box on her bed, tucking hair behind her ears. The urge to explore its contents was overwhelming, though she knew in her heart that it had the potential to ruin this momentous day. She gingerly sat on the immaculately-made bed beside it, running her hands over the packaging tape that kept it sealed.
Don't do it, her inner voice reprimanded. It's not the day.
Nonsense, the other voice insisted. There's nothing wrong with keeping the memories alive.
She had grown weary of the angel-and-devil dichotomy that so often haunted her brain. It made her feel like she had so little control over her own decisions.
As if to silence both voices, she began lifting the tape away and opening the box.
Inside were photographs, gifts, and other reminders of her relationship with Toby Cavanaugh. One item in particular sat on the very top, as it was the most frequently referred-to memory. It was the letter he had written her before his departure. She remembered the day vividly. It was only about a month after the girls had been taken in to police custody for being caught with Ali's murder weapon.
Rain was coming down in buckets. Spencer hastily threw on her jacket and shoes, cursing herself for leaving her car windows down. Had she had the faintest idea of what the ever-changing forecast had in store, she never would have been so foolish. She had admittedly been distracted, though, as Toby had attempted to phone her as she was pulling into her driveway. With a bleeding heart, she had declined the call.
She yanked open the door to be met with a natural orchestra of pattering rain. Ducking out of the house into the ominously-darkening outside world, she splashed quickly through mud puddles and wet pavement to reach her vehicle. Thunder rumbled in the distance, as if reminding her that this should be done with haste.
She nearly slipped upon reaching her car, fumbling with the keys to unlock it.
"Spencer!"
She turned. Emily was jogging over from across the street, donned appropriately in rain boots and a tasteful poncho. She appeared distraught.
"What is it? Are you okay?" Spencer demanded immediately, fearing the worst for Emily's military father.
Emily stopped in front of her, blinking away raindrops from her dark eyelashes. She paused. "Spence..."
Spencer's heart was beginning to sink. She didn't like the tone of Emily's voice, whatsoever.
"Spencer, he's gone." As if on cue, another thunderous crack echoed in the woods.
"What? Is it your dad?" Spencer asked worriedly.
Emily paused once more as additional water droplets cascaded down her nose and chin.
"It's Toby."
Spencer's stomach flip-flopped violently on the inside. "Is he okay?" she demanded, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. As she waited for a response, Emily was protectively passing a folded note into Spencer's hands.
"He joined the army. He left a couple hours ago."
Spencer felt her mouth dry out.
"Can...can I still catch him?" she whispered, comforted in knowing that the involuntarily-flowing tears would intermingle with the raindrops on her face, undetected.
"No," Emily murmured sadly, shaking her head. "He's gone."
Spencer's world turned on its belly, suddenly making her insides writhe in confusion. She distantly heard her phone chirp inside her jeans pocket. She yanked it out desperately, hoping subconsciously that it was him...
"Who is it?" Emily inquired.
Spencer sighed dejectedly, handing the phone to Emily, who read the message aloud.
"When I told you to keep Toby safe, this wasn't exactly what I had in mind. But bravo, Spencer! Always the over-achiever! - A."
Spencer tenderly fumbled with the letter, unsure of whether or not she wanted to unearth its contents yet again. The day that Toby left was ironically the last message she had ever received from 'A'. She wasn't sure why, but had the distinct feeling that 'A' was finally satisfied that they had officially ruined her life.
With a shaky sigh, she pushed the letter deep into the box, deciding that it was not the time to re-read it. With feigned confidence, she stood and made her way to her dresser, haphazardly yanking out fresh clothes.
It was time for that shower. It would serve several purposes, but none were so appealing to Spencer as the symbolism of a fresh start.