Ariana realized she was rambling and bit down hard on her bottom lip.
“So. Will you come?”
“Okay, you’re freaking me out here,” Jasper said. “Just tell me what’s going on.”
Ariana’s mouth hardened into a thin line. Jasper almost never spoke so colloquially. “You’re stalling.”
His eyes widened. “What? No? I just … you’re bleeding and you’re talking about leaving the country like some kind of fugitive and I’m not sure you’re thinking straight. Let me get you some help and we’ll—”
He started to get up, but Ariana grasped his hand and pulled him back down again.
“Jasper, there’s no time.” She looked him dead in the eye. “I know this a lot to ask, but I also know that you love me. And because I love you, I’m going to give you some time to think about it. Just … not too much.”
She let him go and he stood up, backing up enough for her to slam the car door closed. Her finger trembled as she pressed the button to lower the window.
“If you want to be with me, meet me at Terminal A at Ronald Reagan International in four hours. And bring your passport.”
“Ana … please. Let’s talk about this,” Jasper said, his nose turning red with the cold. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“I don’t have the time, Jasper,” she said, shaking her head, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “You’re going to have to decide this on your own. And please, just … don’t tell anyone you saw me out here.”
Then she closed the window, shoved the car into gear, and pulled away. She gave Jasper one last look in the rearview mirror as she reached the edge of the parking lot. The sudden pain in her heart nearly choked her. This couldn’t be the last time she’d ever see him. She couldn’t handle the idea that this was the end.
Come with me, Jasper, please, she thought desperately. I don’t want to lose you, too.
ALMOST EVERYTHING
Ariana gritted her teeth as she cleaned the blood around her wound with antiseptic wipes. Every time the medicated cloth came within as much as a centimeter of the cut, the pain was excruciating. The countertop around the sink in her private bathroom was littered with crumbled, red scraps. Her chest heaving as she tried to breathe, Ariana finished the job and looked in the mirror. The gash wasn’t as deep as she’d originally thought. The bleeding had slowed considerably, and even though it hurt like nothing she’d ever experienced before, she was reasonably certain she would live.
She reached for the gauze and tape she’d swiped from the emergency kit in the hallway. Gritting her teeth, she covered the wound with a large piece of gauze and taped it down tightly. Then she used an ACE bandage to wrap her abdomen and keep it from moving too much when she walked. When she was finally finished, Ariana took a few test steps around the bathroom. The cut still stung and her side ached, but it was nothing like it had been. This, she could deal with. This would not slow her down.
Ariana swiped all of the messy gauze and wipes and bandages into a small garbage bag where she’d already stashed her ruined dress and Meloni’s blood-caked scarf. Then she took out two antiseptic cleaning wipes and carefully, meticulously, rubbed down every last inch of the sink, the counter, the mirror, and the floor in front of the vanity. She added these to the garbage bag and tied it tight. Later, she would dispose of the bag in a Dumpster at the airport, where it would be whisked away before anyone even knew she was gone.
Back in her room, Ariana threw on a soft black turtleneck sweater and tossed the first aid equipment into her Louis Vuitton satchel, the one she intended to carry onto the plane. Already stashed inside were her Emma Walsh passport and wallet, two thousand dollars in cash, her laptop, a change of clothes, and plenty of reading material. Her Louis Vuitton rolling trunk was full of winter clothes and coats.
Ariana snapped the trunk closed and looked around her room. Her eyes fell on the stack of opened and unopened invitations on her desk, and her heart gave a pang. The Princeton catalog lay at the center of the workspace, looking glossy and colorful and inviting. On the shelf above her bed was the framed photograph of her, Lexa, Maria, Soomie, and Brigit taken at the fund-raiser back in September—the one frame she had managed not to shatter after Meloni had shown up on campus. On impulse, Ariana grabbed the picture, shoved it into her carry-on, and zipped it closed. She took a deep breath and resolved not to cry, not to wonder what if, not to regret. Right now, she had to be practical. She had to make sure she hadn’t left anything behind for the police to find. Everything seemed to be in order, and it had taken her less then twenty minutes to pack.
“Well. This is it. Good-bye, Briana Leigh Covington,” Ariana said, making sure to keep her voice steady.
Then she righted her rolling trunk, slid out the handle until it clicked, and walked out the door.
STALKING HER PREY
Ariana stood in the Georgetown library while Reed participated in an American lit study group, safely hidden behind a huge shelf full of dusty sociology books. Her situation, she realized, was far from ideal. She had spent the last two weeks of her life stalking and studying and planning for this and now, she’d been forced to work off the cuff. But at least she had spotted Reed leaving for the library the moment she’d arrived. That had been a stroke of luck. Of course, it would have been more convenient had she been alone, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. She would simply have to stand here and wait. Wait until this ridiculously long, Friday night discussion of Toni Morrison’s life work was finally over.
This girl really did have no life.
At least it was warm inside the library. And the pain beneath her hastily applied gauze was nothing but a dull ache now. For the moment, Ariana chose to look at the bright side.
“All right, tomorrow afternoon we’ll go over Sula and Jazz,” the scruffy dude who’d been popping his gum all night said, closing his laptop. “Thanks, everyone, for coming on such short notice.”
Ariana’s chest flooded with relief and excitement as Reed began to pack up her things. The two other girls in her group—the ones she had walked to the library with earlier—said good night and strolled off together, while Reed and the scruffy dude made for the door. Ariana waited until they were nearly to the checkout desk before emerging from between the stacks. She hovered near the bulletin board while they adjusted their scarves and gloves, said their good-byes, and went outside. Then, heart pounding, she quickly followed. At the top of the steps, she paused. Scruffy dude had headed off to the right. Reed was walking in the opposite direction, toward her dorm, and she was alone.
Thank you, thank you, thank you, Ariana thought, practically skipping down the steps. She made sure to stay a good fifty paces behind Reed as she navigated the frosty, ice patch–dotted pathway toward her dorm.
Please just let her be going home. Don’t let her stop anywhere along the way, Ariana begged silently. She couldn’t take the suspense much longer. She needed to get this over with and get to the airport ASAP. If Reed managed to stall for very long, there was a good chance Ariana was going to have to abort her mission and go—that she was going to have to leave Reed alive.
The very thought made bile rise up in the back of her throat. The girl had to die. She simply had to die.