Wanted. (Book Eight)

Twelve: Dreams Really Do Come True.

Late Wednesday afternoon, Emily stood in front of her bedroom mirror, turning first to the right, then to the left. Should she have used a curling iron on her stick-straight, reddish-blond hair? Did her sister Carolyn's pink lip gloss look stupid? She pulled off the striped T-shirt she was wearing, threw it on the floor, and slid on a pink wool-cashmere sweater instead. That looked wrong, too. She checked the digital clock on the nightstand again. Courtney would be here any minute.

Maybe she was overthinking this. Maybe Courtney hadn't even been flirting with her in gym class. She had been in unconventional schools her whole life—she might not be well-versed in the four arts of flirtation and other social cues.

The doorbell rang, and Emily froze, staring at her wide-eyed expression in the mirror. In an instant, she was thundering down the stairs and scampering through the hall to the door. No one else was home—her mother had taken Carolyn to a doctor's appointment after swimming, and her dad was still at work. She and Courtney would have the house to themselves.

Courtney stood on the steps, her cheeks pink and her blue eyes sparkling. "Hey!"

"Hi!" Emily unintentionally backed away just as Courtney came in for a hug. Then Emily stepped forward to hug, too, just when Courtney was self-consciously stepping aside.

Emily giggled. "Come in," she said. Courtney shuffled into the foyer and looked around, taking in the hutch of Hummel figurines in the hall, the dusty, upright piano in the living room, and the cluster of hanging plants that Mrs. Fields had brought indoors for the winter.

"Should we go to your room?"

"Sure."

Courtney bounded up the stairs, turned right at the landing, and stopped at the door to the bedroom that Emily and Carolyn shared. Emily gawked. "H-how did you know where my room was?"

Courtney gave her a crazy look. "Because it says so on your door." She pointed at the wooden sign that said Emily And Carolyn in cartoonish letters. Emily let out a breath. Duh. It had been there since she was six.

Emily moved some stuffed animals off her twin bed so they could both fit. "Wow," Courtney breathed, gesturing at the Ali collage over the bureau. It was a series of photographs of Emily and Ali together from sixth and seventh grade. In one corner was a shot of the five of them in the living room of Ali's Poconos house, doing each other's hair. In another corner was a photo of Emily and Ali in matching striped bikinis on Spencer's pool deck, their arms wrapped around each other's shoulders. There were plenty of pictures of Ali alone, many of which Emily snapped without Ali knowing—of Ali sleeping on Aria's rollaway cot, her face relaxed and beautiful. Another of Ali sprinting up the hockey field in her Rosewood Day JV uniform, her stick raised high in the air. Propped up next to the collage was the patent leather change purse Maya had returned to her at the press conference. Emily had scoured all the dirt and grime off it as soon as she'd gotten home that afternoon.

Emily blushed, wondering if the shrine was weird. "That stuff is so old. I haven't gone through it in a long time." It's not like I'm obsessed or anything, she wanted to add.

"No, I like it," Courtney insisted. She bounced on the bed. "It looks like you guys had a lot of fun."

"Yeah," Emily said.

Courtney flung off her Freye boots. "What's that?" She pointed at a jar on Emily's nightstand.

Emily cradled the jar between her palms. The contents rattled. "Dandelion seeds."

"What for?"

Color rushed to Emily's cheeks. "We all tried to smoke them once, to see if we'd hallucinate. It's stupid."