Perfect (Book Two)

Twenty-Six: At Least She Doesn't Have To Sing Backup.

By the time Spencer and Andrew got to Foxy, the place was mobbed. The valet line was twenty cars long, the wanna-bes who hadn't been invited swarmed around the entrance, and the main tent was jammed with kids at tables, around the bar, and on the dance floor.

As Andrew made his way back from the drinks table, Spencer checked her cell phone again. Still no calls from Wren. She paced around the cross-shaped marble pattern on the dining hall's floor, wondering why she was there. Andrew had come to pick her up, and despite all her anxiety, Spencer had put her drama club skills to use and fooled her family into thinking they were an item—giving Andrew a little kiss near the lips when she saw him, graciously accepting his flowers, posing for a picture, her cheek pressed to his. Andrew had seemed giddily flustered, which helped all the more with the ruse.

Now she had no use for him, but unfortunately he didn't know that. He kept introducing Spencer to everyone—people they both knew—as his date. What she really wanted to do was to go into a quiet room and think. She needed to untangle what that cop, Wilden, knew, and what he didn't. If Toby was A and Ali's killer, he wouldn't be talking with the police. But what if Toby wasn't A...and A had told the police something?

"I think they're doing karaoke." Andrew pointed at the stage. Sure enough, some girl was belting out "I Will Survive." "Want to sing something?"

"I don't think so," Spencer said anxiously, fiddling with the pin of her corsage. She looked around for the fiftieth time for her old friends, hoping they would appear. She felt she had to warn them about Toby—and the cops. A had told her not to, but maybe she could do it in code.

"Well, maybe you'll do one with me?" Andrew coaxed.

Spencer turned to him. Andrew looked just like one of her family's labradoodles, begging for table scraps. "Didn't I just say I didn't want to?"

"Oh." Andrew fiddled with his paisley tie. "Sorry."

In the end, she agreed to sing backup or Christina Aguilera's "Dirrty"—so asinine that squeaky-clean Andrew chose to sing that song—because it was easier that way. Now Mona Vanderwaal and Celeste What's-her-name—she went to the Quaker school—were onstage singing "Total Eclipse of the Heart." They already seemed tipsy, holding each other's arms for balance, and repeatedly dropping their suede mini bags on the floor.

"We're going to be way better than them," Andrew said. He was standing too close. Spencer felt his hot, Orbit gum—minty breath and bristled. Wren breathing heavily on her neck was one thing, but Andrew was quite another. If she didn't get some air right now, she might pass out. "I'll be back," she murmured to Andrew, and fumbled toward the door.

As soon as she passed through the terrace's French doors, her phone vibrated. She flinched. When she looked at the LED screen, her heart lifted. Wren.

"Are you all right?" Spencer said as she answered. "I was so worried!"

"You've left twelve messages," Wren replied. "What's going on?"

Spencer could feel the stress seeping out of her and her shoulders relaxing. "I...I didn't hear from you, and I thought... Why didn't you check your voice mail?"

Wren cleared his throat, sounding a little uncomfortable. "I was busy. That's all."

"But I thought you were—"

"What?" Wren said, sort of laughing. "In a gutter? C'mon, Spence."

"But..." Spencer paused, trying to figure out how to explain. "I just had a weird feeling."

"Well, I'm fine." Wren paused. "Are you fine?"

"Yeah," Spencer answered, smiling a little. "I mean, I'm here at my lame-ass dance, with my lame-ass date, and I'd rather be with you, but I'm so much better now. I'm glad you're okay."

When she hung up, she was so relieved, she wanted to run up and kiss a random person on the terrace—like Adriana Peoples, the Catholic school girl who was sitting on the Dionysus statue, smoking a clove. Or Liam Olsen, the ice hockey player who was fondling his date. Or Andrew Campbell, who was standing behind her, looking forlorn and useless. When it registered in Spencer's brain that Andrew was, well, Andrew, her stomach clenched.

"Um, hey," she said haltingly. "How...how long have you been standing there?"

But by the dejected look on Andrew's face, Spencer realized he'd been standing there just long enough. "Listen," she said, sighing. She might as well just cut this off at its nerve center. "The truth is, Andrew, I hope you don't think anything's going to happen between us. I have a boyfriend."

At first, Andrew looked stunned. Then hurt, then embarrassed, then angry. The emotions passed so quickly over his face, it was like watching a sunset in time-lapse photography. "I know," he said, pointing to her Sidekick. "I heard your conversation."

Of course you did. "I'm sorry," Spencer answered. "But I—"

Andrew held up his hand to stop her. "So why bring me and not him? Is he some guy your parents don't want you to date? So you come with me, thinking you have them totally fooled?"

"No," Spencer said quickly, feeling a twinge of discomfort. Was she that transparent, or was Andrew just a lucky guesser? "It's...it's hard to explain. I thought we could have fun. I didn't mean to hurt you."

A lock of hair fell over Andrew's eyes. "You could've fooled me." He turned for the door.

"Andrew!" Spencer cried. "Wait!" As she watched him disappear through the crowd of kids, a cold, uneasy feeling washed over her. She'd definitely picked the wrong boy as her fake date. It would've been better to go with Ryan Vreeland, who was in the closet, or Thayer Anderson, who was too into basketball to date girls seriously.

She ran into the main tent and looked around; she at least owed Andrew an apology. The whole place was lit by candles, however, so it was hard to find anyone. She could just make out Noel and the Quaker school girl on the dance floor, sneaking drinks out of Noel's flask Naomi Zeigler and James Freed were now onstage, singing some Avril Lavigne song Spencer couldn't stand. Mason Byers and Devon Arliss leaned in to kiss. Kirsten Cullen and Bethany Wells whispered in the corner.

"Andrew?" she called.

Then Spencer noticed Emily across the room. She wore a strapless pink dress and had a pink pashmina thrown over her shoulders. Spencer took a few steps toward her, but then noticed her date standing next to her, his hand on her arm. Just as Spencer squinted to get a better look, the guy turned his head and noticed her. He had dark, denim-blue eyes, the same exact color they'd been in her dream.

Spencer gasped and stepped back.

I'll show up when you least expect it.

It was Toby.