Free Heartless by Sara Shepard

talked to your parents, but I . . .” He looked down at his lace-up Merrells. “I wasn’t sure if you’d want to see me.”
    “Oh.” Spencer’s heart did a flip. “I—I would have wanted to see you. And . . . I’m sorry. For . . . you know.”
    Andrew nodded, and Spencer wondered if he’d found out what happened with Olivia. “Maybe I can call you later?” he asked.
    “Sure,” Spencer said, feeling a flutter of excitement. Andrew raised a hand awkwardly, doing a little bow in good-bye. She watched him disappear down the hall, skirting around a bunch of orchestra girls holding violin and cello cases. She’d come close to crying twice today, overstressed and tired of kids staring at her like she’d come to school in only a thong. Finally, something pleasant had happened.
    The front walk was crowded with yellow buses, a traffic guard in a bright orange vest, and, of course, the ubiquitous news vans. A CNN cameraman noticed Spencer and nudged his reporter. “Miss Hastings?” They sprinted over. “What do you think about the people who doubt that you saw Alison Saturday night? Did you really see her?”
    Spencer gritted her teeth. Damn Emily for blurting out that they’d seen Ali. “No,” she said into the lens. “We didn’t see Ali. It was a misunderstanding.”
    “So you lied ?” The reporters were practically frothing at the mouth. A bunch of students had stopped just behind Spencer too. A couple kids were waving at the cameras, but most were staring at her, agog. A freshman boy snapped a photo with his camera phone. Even Spencer’s AP econ teacher, Mr. McAdam, had paused in the lobby and was gaping at her through the big front windows.
    “The brain conjures up all kinds of strange things when deprived of oxygen,” Spencer said, parroting what the ER doctor had told her. “It’s the same phenomenon that happens to people right before they die.” Then she extended her palm toward the screen. “No more questions.”
    “Spencer!” called a familiar voice. Spencer whirled around. Her sister, Melissa, was in her silver Mercedes SUV, parked in one of the visitors’ spots. She waved her arm. “Come on!”
    Saved. Spencer ducked the reporters and darted past the buses. Melissa smiled as Spencer climbed into the SuV, as if it wasn’t completely out of the ordinary that she was picking Spencer up from school.
    “What are you doing back?” Spencer blurted. She hadn’t seen Melissa in almost a week, not since she swiftly bolted from the house after coming home from Nana’s funeral. That was right around the time Spencer had begun talking to Ian Thomas on IM. Spencer had looked for him on IM last night, hoping to talk to him about the fire, but he hadn’t logged on.
    Spencer suspected Melissa thought Ian was innocent too—after Ian had been arrested and thrown in jail, Melissa insisted that he didn’t deserve a life sentence. She even admitted she’d talked to Ian on the phone when he was in prison. Her sister had packed up her things so hastily last week that Spencer wondered if Melissa felt she needed to get out of Rosewood for the same reasons Ian did—because she knew too much about what had really happened to Ali.
    Melissa started the car. NPR blared, and she quickly turned it down. “I’m back because I heard about your brush with death. Obviously. And I wanted to see the destruction from the fire. It’s terrible, huh? The woods . . . the windmill . . . even the barn. So much of my stuff, too.”
    Spencer hung her head. The barn had been Melissa’s apartment all through high school. She had stashed tons of yearbooks, journals, memorabilia, and clothes there.
    “Mom told me about you, too.” Melissa backed out of the space, almost hitting a CNN cameraman filming the front of the school. “About . . . the surrogate thing. How are you doing?”
    Spencer shrugged. “It was a shock. But for the best. It’s good that I know.”
    “Yeah, well.” They passed the journalism barn and