Perfect (Book Two)

Thirty-Three: Who's The Naughty Sister Now?

The next morning, Spencer came back into her bedroom after taking a shower and noticed the window was open. As in, seriously hoisted up about two feet, screen and all. The curtains fluttered in the breeze.

She ran to the window, her throat tight. Although she'd calmed down after she reached Emily last night, this was odd. The Hastingses never open the screens, because moths could fly in and ruin the expensive rugs. She jerked the window down, then nervously checked under her bed and in her closet. No one.

When her Sidekick buzzed, she nearly jumped out of her silk pajama pants. She found her phone buried in her Foxy dress, which she'd stripped off last night and left in a pile on the floor—something the old Spencer Hastings would never have done. It was an e-mail from Squidward.

Dear Spencer, Thank you for turning in your essay questions early. I've read them, and I'm very pleased. See you Monday. —Mr. McAdam

Spencer slumped back down on her bed, her heart beating slowly but forcefully.

Out her bedroom window, she could see that it was a beautiful, crisp September Sunday. The aroma of apples hung in the air. Her mother, wearing a straw hat and rolled-up jeans, strolled to the end of the driveway with her gardening shears to prune back the bushes.

She couldn't deal with all this...this pleasantness. She grabbed her Sidekick and speed-dialed Wren's number. Perhaps they could start their date early. She needed out of Rosewood. The phone rang a few times; then there was a clatter and a clunk. It took a few seconds for Wren to say hello. "It's me," Spencer sobbed.

"Spencer?" Wren sounded groggy.

"Yeah." Her mood shifted to irritation. Did he not recognize her voice?

"Could I call you back?" Wren yawned. "I'm sort of...I'm still sleeping."

"But...I need to talk with you."

He sighed.

Spencer softened. "I'm sorry. Can you please talk to me right now?" She paced around the room. "I need to hear a friendly voice."

Wren was quiet. Spencer even checked her Sidekick's LED screen to make sure they were still connected. "Look," he finally said. "This isn't the easiest thing to say, but...I don't think this is going to work out."

Spencer rubbed her ears. "What?"

"I thought this would be okay." Wren sounded numb. Robotic, almost. "But I think you're too young for me. I just...I don't know. We seem to be in really different places."

The room blurred, then tilted. Spencer grasped the phone so hard, her knuckles turned white. "Wait. What? We were just together the other day, and it was fine then!"

"I know. But...God, this isn't that easy...I've started seeing someone else."

For a few seconds, Spencer's brain shut down. She had no idea how to respond. She was pretty sure she wasn't even breathing. "But I had sex with you," she whispered.

"I know. I'm sorry. But I think this is for the best."

The best...for who? In the background, Spencer heard Wren's coffeemaker beep that brewing ad finished. "Wren..." Spencer pleaded. "Why are you doing this?"

But he had already hung up.

Her phone flashed Call Ended. Spencer held it at arm's length.

"Hey!"

Spencer jumped. Melissa stood in Spencer's doorway. In her yellow J. Crew tissue tee and orange Adidas shorts, she looked like a ball of sunshine. "How'd it go?"

Spencer blinked. "Huh?"

"Foxy! Was it fun?"

Spencer tried to mask her swirling emotions. "Um, yeah. It was great."

"Did they have an ugly jewelry auction this year? How was Andrew?"

Andrew. She'd meant to explain everything to Andrew, but Toby had gotten in the way. Spencer had left Foxy shortly after she found out Emily was okay, hailing one of the town cars that were chugging in Kingman Hall's circular drive. Her parents had reinstated her credit cards, so she could actually pay for the trip home.

It made her squeamish to imagine how Andrew felt today. They might even be feeling the same way—blindsided, rushed. But that was silly, really. Spencer and Wren had had something serious... Andrew was delusional if he'd thought he and Spencer were honestly together.

Her eyed widened. Was she delusional, thinking that she was honestly with Wren? What kind of jerk dumps you over the phone, anyway?

Melissa sat next to her on her bed, expectantly awaiting an answer.

"Andrew was good." Spencer's brain felt gummy. "He was very, um, chivalrous."

"What was for dinner?"

"Um, squab," Spencer lied. She didn't have a clue.

"And was it romantic?"

Spencer quickly tried to conjure up some cute scenes with Andrew. Sharing the appetizer. Drunkenly dancing to Shakira. She caught herself. What was the point? it didn't matter anymore.

The clouds started to move out of her brain. Melissa was sitting here, so sweetly trying to make an effort to patch things up. The way she'd taken an interest in Foxy, the way she'd urged their parents to forgive her...and Spencer had repaid her by stealing Wren and ripping off her old econ paper. Even Melissa didn't deserve this.

"I have something to tell you," Spencer blurted out. "I...I saw Wren."

Melissa barely flinched, so Spencer forward. "This whole week. I've gone to his new apartment in Philly, we've talked on the phone, everything. But...I think it's over now." She curled into the fetal position, armoring herself for when Melissa started to hit her. "You can hate me. I mean, I wouldn't blame you. You can go tell Mom and Dad to kick me out of the house."

Melissa quietly held Spencer's preppy seersucker pillow to her chest. It took a long time or her to answer. "It's all right. I won't tell them anything." Melissa leaned back. "I actually have something to tell you. You remember Friday night, when you couldn't reach Wren? You left five messages?"

Spencer stared at her. "H-How do you know that?"

Melissa gave her a tight, satisfied smile. A smile that suddenly made everything all too clear. I've been seeing someone else, Wren had said. It can't be, Spencer thought.

"Because Wren wasn't in Philly," Melissa answered nonchalantly. "He was here, in Rosewood. With me." She got up off the bed and pushed her hair behind her ears, and Spencer saw the hickey on Melissa's neck, practically in the same spot where Spencer's had been. Melissa couldn't have been more deliberate if she'd circled it with a Sharpie.

"And he told you?" she managed. "You knew, all this time?"

"No, I only found out last night." Melissa ran her hand over her chin. "Let's just say I got an anonymous tip from a concerned individual."

Spencer gripped her bedspread. A.

"Anyway," Melissa lilted, "I was with Wren last night, too, when you were at Foxy." She tilted her head down at Spencer, giving her the same haughty look she used to make when they played Queen, back when they were little. The rules of Queen never changed: Melissa was always Queen, and Spencer always had to do what she said. Make my bed, loyal subject, Melissa would say. Kiss my feet. You're mine forever.

Melissa took a step toward the door. "But I decided this morning. I haven't told him yet, but Wren's really not for me. So I'm never going to see him again." She paused, considered her words, then smirked. "And by the looks of things, I guess you won't be seeing him ever again, either."