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Chapter 64

I spend the entirety of the next twenty-four hours in my room.

Well, I guess that's not true. I do leave about ten times, either to run to the bathroom or to sneak downstairs to get food. But other than that, I haven't gone anywhere.

It's not that I think my parents are going to assault me or anything if I leave my room. I was never even officially grounded. But I'm too ashamed to even look them in the eye. I thought that after a few hours, the guilt would begin to subside. But it hasn't. If anything, it's gotten worse.

As far as I know, Mona feels the same way, although I don't know much. We've talked a few times through the vent that connects our rooms, but it's so hard to hear that it's not really worth it. For all I know, she's carrying on with life like normal. I wish I could.

It's not until the morning of my second day in my room that something out of the ordinary happens. I hear voices coming from my sister's room, voices that don't sound like my parents. Voices that sound familiar.

What are they doing here? I wonder, quietly opening my door and slipping into the hallway. Mona's door is closed, but even so, I can hear the voices of Spencer, Aria, and Hanna pretty clearly.

Curious, I walk over and silently press my ear to the door just in time to hear Hanna burst out, her voice muffled, "Tell her to get her ass over here or I'll show her a confrontation!"

I reel away from the door in surprise. Who the heck are they talking about? I suddenly feel like the day and a half that I've spent in my room was more like a lifetime. Not wanting to barge in and interrupt, I lean back against the door just in time to hear Mona say insistently, "I swear, Lesli doesn't know anything else. If she did, she would tell me, and I would tell you."

Lesli. I roll my eyes, feeling angry all over again. Less than a week ago, I didn't even know what that bitch looked like. And now she has managed to throw everyone's lives even more off-kilter than usual.

As I listen half-heartedly as they argue, I quickly put the pieces together in my mind. Obviously some events have occurred over the past few days that have led the girls to believe that Lesli is "A," or knows something about "A," or something. Their theories change so often that it's hard to keep up.

But clearly their evidence isn't good enough for Mona to sell Lesli out, as much as I kind of wish she would. I highly doubt that Lesli is Charles, but that girl is clearly whacked in more ways than one.

I'm so lost in my own thoughts that I completely stop listening, even though my ear is still pressed against the door. Footsteps begin moving closer, and I leap away, practically tumbling into my room just as I hear three sets of footsteps stomp angrily down the stairs.

A surge of adrenaline rushes through me, and before I even know what I'm doing, I'm pushing back out of my room and running after them. I yank open the front door just in time to catch Aria, Hanna, and Spencer already halfway down the walkway. "Guys!"

They turn as I step outside, easing the door closed behind me. It's weird seeing three instead of four, and I wonder briefly where Emily is. "Viola?" Hanna asks, surprise beginning to replace some of the irritation on her face.

"What's going on?" Spencer asks suspiciously, folding her arms over her chest.

"I heard you guys talking," I gasp, still trying to catch my breath. "About Lesli. You think she's Charles?"

They exchange a glance. "Viola, she was Bethany's roommate at Radley," Spencer says slowly. "She obviously knows more than we think, especially about the night that both Charles and Bethany escaped."

Aria opens her mouth, but I cut her off. This is completely new information to me. "Wait, wait a minute. What do you mean, they both escaped? Who told you that?"

Once again, all three girls look at each other. I'm just starting to get exasperated when Aria finally says, folding her arms and narrowing her eyes, "Your sister."

I take a step back. They're all watching me, like they're expecting me to blow up or be totally shocked. But I'm really not even the slightest bit surprised. I've gotten used to the fact that Mona knows everything. This isn't really that difficult to digest.

"So then why doesn't she want you guys to talk to Lesli?" I ask, glancing nervously back at the house. Any moment now my mother is probably going to burst out here and drag me back inside by my hair.

Spencer looks disgruntled. Once again, I get the impression that she hasn't slept. "Apparently," she says, rolling her eyes sarcastically, "Lesli doesn't think talking to us would be 'good for her stability.'"

I feel my mouth drop open. The image of that girl yelling in my face comes rushing back to me. "Stability? That's a joke."

Hanna snorts in agreement, but then her eyes light up like she's come to a realization. "Wait a minute. You know where she lives, right?"

"Um, I might have her address somewhere," I stammer, bewildered. "Why?"

"You can take us there!" Hanna grins, invigorated. "Come on, go get her address and then we can – "

"Hold it," I say, holding up a hand, because Spencer and Aria are starting to look excited, too. "I never said I'd take you guys to her house."

Spencer's face reddens a bit. "Of course you will," she says sharply, her gaze intense. "Because you want to end this just as badly as we do."

I turn away slightly, rocking back on my heels uncomfortably. "Of course I do," I mutter, trying to organize my thoughts. "But if Mona doesn't think it's a good idea, then I think you guys had better listen. She knows Lesli better than any of us."

Spencer looks a little like she wants to murder me. Aria glances at her and seems to notice this, too, as she steps forward, between us, and says in a low voice, "Viola, this is not a game anymore. That girl could be the person who's been tormenting us for years."

I shake my head, crossing my arms. "You really think Lesli Stone is Charles?"

Spencer steps around Aria, but her face is calmer. "No. She can't be…Charles is dead. For sure. We found his autopsy report at Radley."

"Among other things," Hanna adds with a disgusted shudder.

This doesn't make any sense. I can't believe that after so long, these girls still don't seem to understand how "A" works. "And did you guys even consider the possibility that 'A' made up that report himself?"

"That's not all," Spencer cuts me off quickly, and the look on all of their faces gives me a twinge of fear. "Charles has a grave. A real one."

"He's really dead," I murmur, rubbing the goose bumps that have risen on my arms. "So we're back to square one. We have nothing."

"Exactly," Aria says insistently, grabbing my arm. "So come on, we need your help."

I yank my arm out of her grip, shaking my head again. "No way. Mona is my sister. I'm not going to purposefully go and do something that she's not comfortable with. If she says that Lesli's not 'A,' then she's not 'A,' and you guys need to get over it." I narrow my eyes at the looks of surprise on their faces and say, turning back to my house, "Is that all?"

I'm fully expecting no response, and practically jump out of my skin when Spencer suddenly grabs me by the wrist. "No. There is something else. Turn around."

This strikes me as very suspicious, and I immediately feel a rush of fear, which I try to shake off. This is insane. They're not going to do anything to me. I've just been jumpy and paranoid ever since I escaped from that place.

Slowly, I wrap my arms around myself and turn around, giving her an inquisitive look. After a moment, I feel her fingers pressing against the back of my neck, and I wince, my shoulders shooting up, not just from surprise, but from a sudden burst of pain.

"Ow!" I yelp when she pushes harder, whirling around. "What the heck are you – " But the words freeze on my tongue when I reach back to rub the spot that's now sore.

My fingers bump against something small and hard, right beneath the skin on the back of my neck. It's protruding just a bit, but I gasp. I can't believe that I didn't notice that before. "Oh my god, what is that?"

"It's a tracking device," Spencer explains, pressing her hand to the back of her own neck. "Remember that day we woke up in that morgue-like room, with major headaches?"

" 'A' chipped us?" I burst out squeakily, black spots dancing in front of my vision. I feel like I'm going to pass out. "Oh my god, what are we gonna do?"

"We have a plan," Hanna says, grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the sidewalk. "But you have to come with us."

I have no idea what's going on or if I should trust them, but none of that even occurs to me as I jump into the back of Spencer's SUV and try to buckle the seatbelt with my shaking hands. The only thing on my mind is that stupid chip, and getting it out of me.

…

I wake up several hours later to the sound of the doorbell ringing. I heave myself off of my bed, so nauseous that I can barely see straight. I can feel my pulse in the back of my neck, and I raise my hand to make sure that the bandage is still there and not soaked with blood or anything.

It's been three hours since I allowed Spencer and Hanna to pretty much operate on my neck in order to get that tracking chip out. At the time, I was so scared that I laid down on the bed and told them to hurry up without a second thought.

But once it took thirty minutes for the bleeding to stop, and once I passed out for several minutes, I started to have second thoughts. I understand why we couldn't have gone to the hospital. On the other hand, watching YouTube videos probably wasn't the best way to learn how to do surgery.

Feeling a little less light-headed now, I stumble down the stairs and take a moment to make myself presentable before opening the door.

Mike stands in front of me, his hands shoved in his pockets and a large Tupperware box beside him. "Mike?" I say, unable to keep from grinning. I haven't seen him since before the dollhouse.

He grins as well, looking relieved. "Viola, hey," he says, and I step forward to hug him. He was my best friend in the weeks before I was kidnapped, and I realize now how much I missed him.

"What are you doing here?" I ask once I pull away, trying to ignore the irritating sting of the stitches on my neck. I casually push back my hair, making sure it's covered.

He turns bright red, glancing down at the box beside him. "I – um – is…is Mona here?"

I smile. "No. She went out with our mom. She'll be back soon, why don't you come in and – "

"No," he says loudly, taking a step back. "Don't worry about it."

"Mike," I interrupt, walking outside and closing the door behind me. "What's going on? You look freaked."

There was a time when he would have refused to tell me, when I would have had to poke and prod and ask relentlessly until he fessed up, because that's what boys are like. But apparently we've all matured over the past few months, because he sighs, sits down on the porch swing, and says, with his head in his hands, "I haven't talked to her since you guys got back."

It takes a minute for that to process. We've been back for nearly two weeks now. "What? Seriously? Mona hasn't tried to call you or anything this whole time?"

Mike shakes his head, not meeting my eyes. "I've tried to call her," he mutters. "She hasn't answered any of my calls or texts, anything. I came over a few days ago but your mom wouldn't let me see her."

I flinch, fiddling with my hands. "Things have been a little crazy," I admit with reluctance, thinking again of what I went through a few hours ago and suppressing the urge to throw up. "And she's been having a really rough time. Don't take it personally."

"It's hard not to," he says, then snorts and adds sarcastically, "I mean, it's not like I thought she was dead for months or anything."

I flinch involuntarily. "Come on," I say lightly, sitting down beside him on the swing. "It's nothing against you. We've all just been trying to handle everything as best we can." Glancing around, I nod down at the box and add jokingly, "So what, you thought you'd try and win her over with…Tupperware?"

He finally laughs, although it's harsh, and stands, walking over to the box. "No." He lifts the lid and I feel my eyes widen. Instinctively, I pull my knees up to my chest.

Half a dozen pairs of eyes stare blankly up at me. "What the heck?" I say in alarm, narrowing my own eyes at the porcelain dolls that remind me a little too much of what I've been through. "I don't…"

"They were Aria's," he explains hastily, seeming to sense my discomfort and sticking the lid back on, the dolls disappearing from view. "She said she's kind of over dolls."

"Yeah, I know how she feels," I mutter, rolling my eyes and not even trying to suppress the shiver that passes through me.

"This was her idea," Mike says quickly, almost defensively. "Giving them to Mona. But I don't know, maybe – "

"It's fine," I blurt out, jumping up before he can change his mind. "It's actually really sweet. I think she'll appreciate it. Here." Smiling, I walk over and pull open the door. "Hurry up, would you? Before bugs get in."

...

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