Perfect (Book Three)

Twenty-Three: The Rosebushes Have Eyes.

Friday at lunch, Emily sat in the Rosewood Day greenhouse, where tall, leafy plants and a few species of butterflies flourished in the humidity. Even though it was hot and smelled like dirt, a lot of people were eating lunch in here. Maybe it was to escape the drizzly weather—or maybe they just wanted to be near Rosewood Day's new It Girl, Emily Fields.

"So are you going to Mona's party?" Aria's brother, Mike, gazed expectantly at Emily. He and a few other boys on the lacrosse team had plopped down on a bench across from her and were hanging on her every word.

"I don't know," Emily replied, finishing the last of her potato chips. It was doubtful her mom would let her go to Mona's, and Emily wasn't sure if she wanted to.

"You should come hang out in my hot tub afterward." Noel Kahn scribbled his number on a piece of lined notebook paper. He tore it off and handed it to her. "That's when the real party's going to start."

"Bring your girlfriend, too," Mike suggested, a hungry look in his eyes. "And feel free to make out around us. We're very open-minded."

"I could even get my photo booth back out for you," Noel offered, giving Emily a wink. "Whatever turns you on."

Emily rolled her eyes. As the boys sauntered off, she leaned over her thighs and let out a frazzled breath. It was too had she wasn't the exploitative type—she could probably make a lot of money off these sexed-up, girl-on-girl-loving Rosewood boys.

Suddenly, she felt someone's small hand curl around her wrist. "You're dating a lax boy?" Maya whispered in her ear. "I saw him slip you his number."

Emily looked up. Her heart swooped. It felt like she hadn't seen Maya in weeks, and she couldn't stop thinking about her. Maya's face swam before her whenever she shut her eyes. She thought about the feel of her lips during their make-out sessions on the rock by the creek.

Not that those make-out sessions could ever happen again.

Emily pulled her hand away. "Maya. We can't."

Maya stuck out her bottom lip. She looked around. Kids were sitting on the fountains or on the wooden benches next to the flower beds or near the butterfly sanctuary, calmly talking and eating their lunches. "It's not like anyone's watching."

Emily shivered. It felt like someone was. This whole lunch, she'd had the most eerie feeling that there was someone right behind her, spying. The greenhouse plants were so tall and thick, they provided easy coverage for people to hide behind.

Maya unclipped her pink Swiss Army knife from her backpack and snipped off a rose from the lush bushes behind them. "Here," she said, handing it to Emily.

"Maya!" Emily dropped the rose on her lap. "You can't pick flowers in here!"

"I don't care," Maya insisted. "I want you to have it."

"Maya." Emily forcefully slapped her palms on her thighs. "You should go."

Maya scowled at her. "You're seriously doing the Tree Tops thing?" When Emily nodded, Maya groaned. "I thought you were stronger than that. And it seems so creepy."

Emily crumpled up her lunch bag. Hadn't she already gone through this? "If I don't do Tree Tops, I have to go to Iowa. And I can't—my aunt and uncle are crazy."

She closed her eyes and thought of her aunt, her uncle, and her three Iowa cousins. She hadn't seen them in years, and all she could picture were five disapproving frowns. "The last time I visited, my aunt Helene told me that I should eat Cheerios and only Cheerios for breakfast because they suppressed sexual urges. My two male cousins went on extra-ling runs through the cornfields every morning to drain their sexual energy. And my cousin Abby—she's my age—wanted to be a nun. She probably is one now. She carried around a notebook that she called Abby's Little Book of Evil—and she wrote down everything she thought was a sin. She recorded thirty sinful things about me. She even thought going barefoot was evil!"

Maya chuckled. "If you have really ganked-up feet, it is."

"It's not funny!" Emily cried. "And this isn't about me being strong or thinking Tree Tops is right or lying to myself. I can't move there."

Emily bit her lip, feeling the hot rush she always got before she was about to cry. In the past two days, if her family passed her in the halls or the kitchen, they wouldn't even look in her direction. They said nothing to her at meals. She felt weird about joining them on the couch to watch TV. And Emily's sister Carolyn seemed to have no idea how to deal with her. Since the swim meet, Carolyn had stayed away from their shared bedroom. Usually, the sisters did their homework at their desks, murmuring to each other about math problems, history essays, or random gossip they'd heard at school. Last night, Carolyn came upstairs when Emily was already in bed. She changed in the dark and climbed into her bed without saying a word.

"My family won't love me if I'm gay," Emily explained looking into Maya's round brown eyes. "Imagine if your family woke up and decided they hated you."

"I just want to be with you," Maya mumbled, twirling the rose between her hands.

"Well, me too," Emily answered. "But we can't."

"Let's hang out in secret," Maya suggested. "I'm going to Mona Vanderwaal's party tomorrow. Meet me there. We'll ditch and find somewhere to be alone."

Emily chewed on her thumbnail. She wished she could...but Becka's words haunted her. Life is hard already. Why make it harder? Yesterday, during her free period, Emily had logged into Google and typed, Are lesbians' lives hard? Even as she typed that word—lesbian—her right hand pecking the L key and her left the E, S, and B, it seemed strange to think that it applied to her. She didn't like it, as a word—it made her think of rice pudding, which she despised. Every link in the list was to a blocked porn site. Then again, Emily had put the words lesbian and hard in the same search field.

Emily felt someone's eyes on her. She glanced around through the whirling vines and bushes and saw Carolyn and a few other swim team girls sitting by the bougainvillea. Her sister glared right at them, a disgusted look on her face.

Emily leapt up from the bench. "Maya go, Carolyn sees us."

She took a few steps away, pretending to be fascinated by a planter of marigolds, but Maya didn't move. "Hurry!" Emily hissed. "Get out of here!"

She felt Maya's eyes on her. "I'm going to Mona's party tomorrow," she said in a low voice. "Are you going to be there or not?"

Emily shook her head, not meeting Maya's eye. "I'm sorry. I need to change."

Maya violently yanked up her green-and-white canvas tote. "You can't change who you are. I've told you that a thousand times."

"But maybe I can," Emily answered. "And maybe I want to."

Maya dropped Emily's rose on the bench and stomped away. Emily watched her weave through the rows of planters past the foggy windows for the exit and wanted to cry. Her life was a horrible mess. Her old, simple life—the one she'd had before this school year started—seemed like it belonged to a different girl entirely.

Suddenly, she felt someone's fingernails trace the back of her neck. A chill ran up her back, and she whirled around. It was only a tendril from another rosebush, its thorns fat and sharp, the roses plump. Then, Emily noticed something on one of the windows a few feet away. Her mouth fell open. There was writing in the condensation. I see you. Two wide-open, heavily lashed eyes were drawn next to the words. It was signed A.

Emily rushed to the writing to wipe it away with her sleeve. Had it been here all along? Why hadn't she seen it? Then, something else struck her. Because of the greenhouse's humidity, water only condensed on its inside walls, so whoever had written this had to be...inside.

Emily turned around, looking for some kind of telltale sign, but the only people glancing in her direction were Maya, Carolyn, and the lacrosse boys. Everyone else was milling around the greenhouse door, waiting for lunch period to end, and Emily couldn't help but wonder if A was among them.