Heartless. (Book Seven)

Seven: An Old Friend Is Back.

When the final bell of the day rang, Spencer plodded gratefully to her locker. Her limbs ached. Her head felt like it weighed a million pounds. She was ready for this day to be over. Her parents had told her she could take a few days off school to recuperate after the fire, but Spencer wanted to get back into the swing of things as soon as possible. She vowed to get straight A's this semester, whatever it took. And maybe by spring, Rosewood Day would take off academic probation and let her keep her spot on the lacrosse team—she needed it for college applications. There was still time to get into an Ivy League summer program, and she could sign up for Habitat for Humanity to round out her community service.

As she pulled her English books from her locker, she felt a tug on her jacket sleeve. When she turned around, Andrew Campbell was standing there, his hands shoved in his pockets, his longish blond hair pushed off his face.

"Hi," he said.

"H-hi," Spencer stammered. She and Andrew had started dating a few weeks ago, but Spencer hadn't spoken to him since she told him she was moving to New York to be with Olivia. Andrew had tried to warn her not to trust Olivia, but Spencer hadn't listened. In fact, she'd kind of called him a clingy loser. Since then, he'd ignored her at school—which was a nearly impossible fear, since they had every class together.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

"I guess," she answered shyly.

Andrew fiddled with the Andrew For Prez! pin on his messenger bag. It was from the previous semester's campaign for class president, which he'd won over Spencer. "I was at the hospital when you were still unconscious," he admitted. "I talked to your parents, but I..." He looked down at his lace-up Merrell's. "I wasn't sure if you'd want to see me."

"Oh." Spencer's heart did a flip. "I—I would have wanted to see you. And...I'm sorry. For...you know."

Andrew nodded, and Spencer wondered if he'd found out what happened with Olivia. "Maybe I can call you later?" he asked.

"Sure," Spencer said, feeling a flutter of excitement. Andrew raised a hand awkwardly, doing a little bow in good-bye. She watched him disappear down the hall, skirting around a bunch of orchestra girls holding violin and cello cases. She'd come close to crying twice today, overstressed and tired of kids staring at her like she'd come to school in only a thong. Finally, something pleasant had happened.

The front walk was crowded with yellow buses, a traffic guard in a bright orange best, and, of course, the ubiquitous news vans. A CNN cameraman noticed Spencer and nudged his reporter. "Miss Hastings?" They sprinted over. "What do you think about the people who doubt that you saw Alison Saturday night? Did you really see her?"

Spencer gritted her teeth. Damn Emily for blurting out that they'd seen Ali. "No," she said into the lens. "We didn't see Ali. It was a misunderstanding."

"So you lied?" The reporters were practically frothing at the mouth. A bunch of students had stopped just behind Spencer too. A couple kids were waving at the cameras, but most were staring at her, agog. A freshman boy snapped a photo with his camera phone. Even Spencer's AP econ teacher, Mr. McAdam, had paused in the lobby and was gaping at her through the big front windows.

"The brain conjures up all kinds of strange things when deprived of oxygen," Spencer said, parroting what the ER doctor had told her. "It's the same phenomenon that happens to people right before they die." Then she extended her palm toward the screen. "No more questions."

"Spencer!" called a familiar voice. Spencer whirled around. Her sister, Melissa, was in her silver Mercedes SUV, parking in one of the visitors' spots. She waved her arm. "Come on!"