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Chapter 62

I wake up a few days later to the smell of bacon. For a moment, I think that I must be dreaming. My dad can barely make ice. And it's just after seven. There's no way he could have run out to get breakfast anywhere.

I heave myself out of bed, my stomach lurching as I look at the outfit laid out on my bed. I was planning on going back to school today. I know that Hanna started yesterday, and the others are supposed to be going back soon, too.

But I'm not sure I can do it.

The thought of rushing through the hallways, hearing kids laughing and lockers slamming and teachers droning seems so…mundane. After everything I've been through, I can barely fathom the thought of it.

Maybe I'll make a coffee run and decide from there.

I pull on the outfit that I picked out and head downstairs, still confused about the smell. Maybe my dad has some secret cooking skill that I never knew about? Or maybe he found some bacon scented candle or something. Gross.

I walk into the kitchen and my keys fall out of my hand, clattering to the floor, but I barely notice. "Mom?"

My mother turns away from the stove, her face lighting up. "Viola."

I rush over, throwing my arms around her tightly. I've never been more grateful to see my mom, but the first words out of my mouth are, "Where's Mona?"

She pulls away, and I notice that her face has turned ashen. "She was called down to the precinct. That's why we're back early."

I can hardly hear her over the sound of blood rushing in my ears. "What? Why?"

"Well," my mother says slowly. She grabs a spatula and picks a piece of bacon off of the pan, letting it fall onto a plate. Her hand is shaking. "The police have a few questions. Specifically about her faking her death."

I shake my head, unable to believe this. "Seriously? That's what they care about?"

"There was an investigation, sweetie," my mother says, trying to hand me a plate of food, but I hold out my hands in protest, stepping away. I don't think I could eat right now. In fact, I feel like I might be sick. "A lot of tax dollars went into trying to solve her murder. They're not very happy."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard," I mutter, but I no longer have the energy to argue. I stoop down to pick my keys up off of the floor.

My mom glances at me nervously, her eyes sweeping up and down my outfit. "Where are you…you're not going back to school today, are you?"

Great. Out of all the subject changes, she picks the thing I least want to talk about. Now my stomach is really churning. "I don't know," I say quietly, pressing a hand to it. "Right now I'm gonna go to the Brew, grab a coffee. Maybe I'll make it a half day."

"Viola, if you're not ready for this – "

"I think I am," I muse, to myself just as much as to her. "I want my life to start getting back to normal." That won't happen until "A" is caught, a little voice in the back of my head taunts. I resist the urge to smack myself.

"Do you want me to give you a ride?" my mom asks, standing up from the table, where she has just fixed a plate for herself.

I glance at her still-trembling hands and shake my head. "Mom, I don't think that's the best idea. I'll be fine."

"Text me when you get there," she insists, and I turn away before I roll my eyes. Even so, her protectiveness is kind of sweet. And understandable, I realize. She thought I was dead for two months.

Tears rush to my eyes and I fling my arms around my mother, holding back tears. "I will. I love you, Mom."

She lets out a choked sob and hugs me back, tightly. "I love you too, honey."

…

I walk into the Brew ten minutes later, inhaling the smell of coffee and smiling. I haven't been in here since I got back. The familiarity of the coffee shop is already starting to calm my stomach. Maybe I really will be able to make it to school later today.

I'm just figuring out what kind of latte I want to order when my attention is caught by a burst of shouting.

Whoa. I glance around, caught off guard. Generally when something out of the ordinary happens, it involves someone I know, so I'm unsurprised when I peer around the corner and spot Mona and Hanna facing some red-haired girl. My joy at seeing my sister for the first time in over a week quickly dissipates when I see the look on her face.

Curious and a little alarmed, I step closer just in time to hear the red-haired girl, who is wearing glasses and looks extremely angry, raise her voice, practically screaming out, "I actually saw you as the victim. You, you conniving little bitch!"

"Whoa!" I yell out at the same time as Hanna, who gives a start and looks over at me. Feeling a rush of anger toward this complete stranger, I rush over, stepping between her and Mona, mostly because I am getting the feeling that someone is about to be punched. "Excuse me," I say, letting out a surprised laugh, "I'm sorry, who the hell are you?"

The girl looks me up and down and I get the strange feeling that she knows who I am. Creepy. "The girl who your lovely sister completely screwed over," she snaps, her voice practically a snarl, and I step back, winding my arm through Mona's and wondering briefly if I'm the one who's going to get punched.

"Viola, this is Lesli," my sister says, her voice shaking.

Lesli. The name rings a bell, and I suddenly realize why. This is her friend with mysterious origins, the one I was supposed to meet on Thanksgiving before the world completely turned on its head.

Funny. I never pegged her as a complete psychopath. Or a redhead.

I'm so furious that it takes me a moment to collect my thoughts. "Look, I don't know what your deal is and I honestly don't care. You need to lay off."

"This is her first day back," Hanna adds, and I'm glad to see that I'm not the only one who's angry. I wish I had walked in two minutes sooner. Then maybe I'd have a clue as to what is going on.

"Sorry," Lesli snaps, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "I forgot the champagne."

I roll my eyes so hard that my vision blurs for a second. "Get a grip, Lesli," Hanna says angrily, her eyes narrowed. "Mona never made up that plan to hurt you."

"Really?" Lesli barks out a laugh. She's beginning to sound a little unhinged. "You think I actually wanted perjury on my resume?"

"I don't know what that means, but I really don't like your tone," Hanna says.

Lesli takes a step forward, her face reddening. "Who gives a crap what you like, you bag of hair!"

If I was not so furious, I probably would have broken into hysterical laughter over what is by far the dumbest insult I have ever heard in my life. Instead I raise my voice, but not quite to the level of her screeching, and say, "No one forced you to come testify, Lesli. You put your ass on the line all by yourself."

"Guys, stop," Mona begs, grabbing my hand. "Lesli, I'm sorry about all this, I swear. I'll call you later – "

"Don't," Lesli says, her voice suddenly low. Somehow, this is scarier than when she was shouting. "If you ever try and reach out to me or mention my name to anyone ever again, you will live to regret it." Her eyes narrow behind her thick black glasses. "I believe in payback, too."

"Okay, that's it." I have never wanted to punch someone as much as I do right now. I yank my hands out of my sister's grasp and take a step toward Lesli, not sure what I'm about to do but knowing that it's not going to be pretty. "I'm – "

"Viola!" Mona grabs my arms, pulling me back. Immediately, Lesli shoots us all one last nasty glare and shoves past us, her shoulder knocking into Hanna's as she strides out of the Brew.

We stare after her and I press my hand to my chest, feeling my heart finally slow down. "Oh my god," I mutter. "What the hell?"

"What a psycho," Hanna says, shaking her head in disgust. "How could she say that to you?"

"Where did you meet that girl?" I ask in horror. "The straightjacket ward in Radley?"

Mona is staring at the ground, looking completely shaken. "Do you think she's going to – "

"She's not going to do anything," I interrupt, impressed that my voice isn't even trembling as I wrap my arm around her shoulders. "She's just nuts." I hesitate, thinking about the look on Lesli's face when she was screaming at us, and add quietly, "But, um, let's remember to lock the front door tonight anyway."

Hanna gives an exaggerated shiver, like she's trying to rid herself of what just happened. "I'm going to be late for school." She glances over at me. "Aren't you coming back today?"

All thoughts of going to school have completely left my head. All I want to do is go home, lock myself in my room, and not talk to anyone else for the rest of the day. My heart is still pounding.

But instead, I shake my head and pull out my car keys. "No. Maybe tomorrow." I look over at my sister, jangling the keys. "Come on, I'll take you to the police station."

"You don't have to do that," Mona says, following me out of the Brew and waving goodbye to Hanna, who sets off toward her car. "You should go to school."

Several boys who must be sophomores, at the oldest, walk past on their way into the Brew. They are gaping openly at us. I shudder, glaring at them. I am really not in the mood for this. "Yeah, no, actually…I think the precinct sounds more appealing than school right now."

…

I'm sitting in a chair in my room, my knees pulled up to my chest as I flip through a magazine, when I hear a creak from the hallway.

My head snaps up quickly and the magazine slaps closed. You're being crazy, I tell myself, rolling my eyes at my own panic, even though my heart is still pounding. That was probably just Mom or Dad going to bed.

This is getting out of hand, this whole being jumpy over every sound thing. I shouldn't be living in fear in my own house. But I can't help being jittery. Over those horrible two months, I became accustomed to listening hard for any sound, any indication that "A" was coming or that something was about to happen. I had to be prepared for anything. And I guess that's how my fight or flight reaction is still operating.

I sigh and lean back against the chair, reaching over to pull the curtains closed, hiding the dark sky. Then I flip back open the magazine and force myself to calm down.

And then the door to my room begins to open.

I'm reminded instantly of being in that tiny Radley recreation room in the dollhouse, of that first terrifying moment when the metal door creaked open. I drop the magazine to the floor and pull my knees tight against my chest, looking around wildly for anything I could potentially use as a weapon. If I screamed, could my dad hear me from the kitchen?

And then the door swings the rest of the way open and a small figure steps into my room.

"Oh my god, Mona, what the hell?" I gasp, nearly collapsing right out of the chair in relief. My hand flies to my pounding heart. "Do you have any idea how badly you just scared me?"

"Sorry," my sister says, shutting the door and pulling off her sweatshirt. My eyes widen at the sight of her black sweater and pants. Crap. "I need to use your window."

"What?" I scramble to my feet and cross my arms, moving to stand in front of said window. "You – you're sneaking out?"

"Don't worry about it," Mona says, trying to push me aside, and I notice that for the first time all day, her voice sounds steady. "I'm not doing anything dangerous. I'll be back in half an hour."

I doubt all of that and grab her arm, suddenly very glad that I'm nearly a head taller than she is. "I'm getting the feeling your whole scared act was just that," I snap.

"I am scared," she insists, wrenching her arm out of my grip and pulling the blinds away from the window. "That's the whole reason why I'm doing this."

All of my annoyance melts into concern. "Can you at least tell me where you're going? This is freaking me out." I think back to our days on the "A" team and shiver. "You're not…"

"This has nothing to do with 'A,'" Mona says quickly, once again reading my mind. "But I can't tell you anything else. I promised."

I nod and walk over to my closet, taking out a black cardigan and pulling it on. "Okay, fine. Then I'll come with you and see for myself."

"No, Viola," she protests, but I'm already halfway out the window, straining my arm until I make contact with the thick tree branch that has helped me sneak out more times than I would like to admit. "I need to do this alone."

I'm barely listening, trying to swing one leg out of the window and onto the branch. "No one has to know," I gasp. "I'm not letting you go off on some secret mission alone, not with Charles still lurking around. That's just asking to get kidnapped again."

"It's not like I'm some kind of amateur at this," Mona mutters, but follows me out the window without further protest. I smirk to myself as I jump to the ground and head for the car.

"Where are we going, anyway?" I call, shooting a nervous glance at the house just in time to see the kitchen light click off. My parents must be going to bed. Good.

She jumps into the car beside me. "Radley."

…

Twenty minutes later, I wish I had not insisted on coming.

"This is so creepy," I hiss, peering into another room at the end of the hallway, which is filled with files, stacked from floor to ceiling. Radley is even creepier at night, in the dark. Or, I guess, what used to be Radley. Since it was sold and closed down sometime when I was trapped underground, I guess it's not really a sanitarium anymore. All of the patients have been moved out. But their records have not. "Okay, are you going to tell me whose file we're looking for?"

Mona has already pulled down a box and is beginning to rifle through it. She doesn't look at me, but even in the dark I can see her face go pale. "Lesli's."

"What?" My jaw drops open. I wonder briefly if I heard incorrectly. "Lesli Stone was a patient at Radley?"

"You were right, partially," my sister says, moving on to another box of records. "But I don't think this place ever had a 'straightjacket ward.'"

"Oh my god," I mutter, shaking my head. "I can't believe you met her here. Although," I add thoughtfully, thinking back to her behavior yesterday and getting angry all over again, "I guess it makes sense. That girl has a serious rage problem." I wrap my arms around myself. It's chilly in here – they most likely shut off the utilities when the place closed down – but that's not the only reason why I shiver.

"Since you insisted on coming along, can you at least help me look?" Mona asks, handing me a stack of files.

I lean against the damp wall and shift through them half-heartedly. Something is still bothering me. "Okay, wait," I say, looking up and raising my eyebrows. "Can you explain why, exactly, you are so willing to help a girl who, if I'm not mistaken, recently called you a 'conniving little bitch'?"

There is a long pause. "I want to make it up to her," she says finally, with obvious reluctance. "I really did hurt her."

"You didn't do anything wrong," I protest, fibbing only a little. "If I were you, I wouldn't be jumping through any hoops for that psycho."

"Trust me, you would," Mona says darkly, still not meeting my eyes. "You don't know Lesli like I do."

"Thank god," I mumble, but her words have made me a little on-edge. What is this girl actually capable of? Because it suddenly seems like she's more unhinged than I thought after our confrontation in the Brew.

Suddenly nervous, I go back to rifling through stacks of papers, having to hold them practically right up to my face to read the names in the darkness. "God, this place is a mess," I hiss after several minutes, dropping a bunch of files back into a box and grabbing a new one. I hold back a yelp when I nearly step in a puddle.

Just then, a scream echoes through the hallway. We both gasp, whirling around. "Okay, what the hell was that?" I say in terror, my heart seizing in my chest. Obviously, there's someone else in here. A girl, judging by that scream. And there was something familiar about it, I realize.

Mona looks at me nervously. "I have no idea."

I grimace and shiver, turning frantically to another box. "Let's just hurry up and find this stupid thing so we can get out of here," I say, standing on tiptoe to pull it off of the top of a cabinet. But my hand slips, and the box is knocked to the ground. With a nasty thud, it crashes to the ground, sending papers everywhere.

"Shh!" Mona whispers, but without her usual amount of intensity. And a moment later she backs into a file cabinet and sends it toppling over. It hits the wall with a resounding bang.

I gape at her, alarmed. "I thought you were supposed to be good at this," I whisper-shout, just as she pulls a file out of a stack with a shaky smile.

"I got it. Let's – "

Then the door flies open, and Spencer and Hanna stand staring at us.

...

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