Free Pretty Wanted by Elisa Ludwig Page A

brilliant in a totally twisted sort of way.”
    “And you got arrested for that, too?” I asked. “For assault?”
    “No,” he said. “There would never have been any evidence. Because it didn’t happen! But the arrest part was my fault. I was so mad after all this went down that I went to her house and spray-painted ‘Liar’ on it, and that’s when the actual cops got involved. That’s when I got stuck on probation. Anyway, my parents’ lawyers made me sign an agreement that I would never talk about it.”
    I could only stare at him. “That’s an awful story.”
    And yet I was relieved. As far as crimes went, spray-painting wasn’t too deep. He hadn’t been cheating on me and he hadn’t had an affair with a teacher, both of which would have been more serious, possibly unforgiveable offenses. And hearing what this lady did to him, I could hardly blame him for wanting revenge. I probably would have done the same thing.
    “Even now she keeps taunting me, sending me these text messages, like the one you saw. It’s like she wants me to mess up again. Or maybe she still wants me to send her that money.”
    “Can’t you get her arrested for harassment?”
    “I’m not a minor. And who would believe a woman was harassing a guy? She has all the power in her favor. She’s the teacher and I’m the son of a rich guy. It’s always going to make me look bad, like a spoiled brat. No matter what, people are going to side with her.”
    “What about blackmail? That’s a real offense.”
    He sighed. “I just want to get away from her.”
    “She sounds truly sick,” I said, softening. “I’m so sorry you had to go through all of that.”
    “Yeah, well, I’d been wanting a reason to leave for a while. This gave me a way to get out from underneath my dad’s thumb. Ironic, huh? I finally ended up getting kicked out—but it was for something I didn’t even do.” He kicked at a flattened soda can on the street. “It’s really hard, you know, when no one will believe you and you’re telling the truth.”
    We walked in silence for a while, watching our shadows elongate on the pavement. The Arch came into view up ahead, the uppermost part of it peeking behind the tallest buildings. So far it had been a good-luck charm, and when I saw it I took comfort in knowing it was out there, watching over us.
    I guess I was relieved to know the full story, finally. It was creepy, but it explained everything.
    Even so, I was still uncomfortable with his whole family situation and the way he was just throwing it all away, like it was no big deal. As if the people who raised you were disposable or replaceable. That was something about Aidan I would never understand, one way we’d never be connected.
    In the meantime, though, we had enough problems. Bigger ones. Like cops.
    “Where are we going to sleep tonight?” I asked.
    “I guess we can’t go back to the library,” he said. I’d thought the same thing, even though we were only a few blocks away from there. It was tempting.
    I nodded agreement. “I don’t think, under the circumstances, we should be squatting in a private home, either. That’s what they’re expecting us to do.”
    It was now four o’clock, according to the time on our phone. I searched through the files of my mind for possibilities. We certainly didn’t have enough money for a hotel room. Sleep out on the street? That seemed like a bad idea. We could look for a hostel or a Y, or something, but we wouldn’t have any privacy. We kept walking, passing a postal center and some other office buildings. We turned down Washington Avenue and up 16th Street where red ribbons were tied onto each light post. Even if I wanted to forget about Christmas it was impossible with them jamming holiday cheer down your throat at every turn.
    “Cool,” Aidan said, pointing to two serpent sculptures meeting fang to fang at the edge of a parking lot. “And look up there.”
    On the roof of the building behind the lot