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Like you? Tanja wrote back. Klaudia replied with a winking smiley.<br />
Aria’s stomach burbled. She hadn’t just read that. Babel Fish had made a mistake. Swallowing hard, she typed in Aria on peikko. The page loaded even<br />
slower this time.<br />
“Aria?” Klaudia’s voice sounded from the other side of the dressing room. “It look good? You super ski bunny?”<br />
“Uh . . .” Aria glanced frantically at the snowsuit hanging from the hook in the corner. It was so yellow it nearly blinded her. Why had Klaudia chosen it for<br />
her? Because Noel would appreciate the effort . . . or because it would make her look like a neon-yellow Sasquatch? Because he was a super hot<br />
American boy and needed an appropriate girlfriend, not a skiing-hating, artsy freak?<br />
Don’t think that way, she told herself. Klaudia had been nice. There had to be another explanation.<br />
But then the latest translated page popped up. Aria read the line slowly, her mouth suddenly bone-dry. Aria is a . . . troll.<br />
Aria’s hands gripped her phone. Aria on peikko meant Aria is a troll.<br />
“Is okay?” Klaudia called from outside, her voice still friendly and chipper.<br />
Aria ran her hands down the length of her face and stared at her phone again. Suddenly, it made a loud trumpeting sound, nearly causing her to drop it.<br />
NEW TEXT MESSAGE FROM ANONYMOUS, the screen said.<br />
Dizziness overcame her. Please no, Aria thought. But when she opened the text, she saw it was exactly what she feared.<br />
Watch out, Aria—I think you have some competition. We<br />
both know Noel has a thing for blondes, after all. Mwah! –A<br />
Chapter 17<br />
Dance like no one’s watching<br />
“There’s a spot!” Spencer bellowed, pointing to an empty space on the side of Walnut Street in downtown Philadelphia.<br />
Zach nodded, wrenched the wheel of his Mercedes to the right, and pulled in neatly behind a dented Ford Explorer. “Am I a genius parallel parker or<br />
what?”<br />
“The best,” Spencer said.<br />
She peeked at Zach out of the corner of her eye. Tonight, he was wearing fitted dark-denim jeans, a striped Paul Smith button-down, shiny wingtips, and a<br />
pair of aviator sunglasses on his head. He’d splashed himself with a spicy, woodsy cologne, and he’d combed his hair off his head so she could see<br />
every angle of his fine-boned face. Each moment Spencer spent with Zach, he got cuter and cuter.<br />
And tonight, she had him all to herself.<br />
It was Thursday, a school night, but Zach was sneaking out to Club Shampoo in Philly to see his favorite DJ spin and asked Spencer to come along.<br />
When he’d picked her up earlier this evening, she was thrilled to see Amelia wasn’t glaring at her from the front seat. “She had flute practice,” Zach said<br />
as soon as Spencer opened the door, as if reading her mind. “We’re free!”<br />
A pulsing bass assaulted Spencer’s ears as soon as she stepped out of the car. She straightened her clingy black dress, rotated her ankles in the ultrahigh<br />
Elizabeth and James heels she’d stolen from Melissa’s closet ages ago, and followed Zach toward the group of people waiting behind velvet ropes<br />
at the door. As she crossed the slick-with-rain city street to join the line, her cell phone buzzed. She pulled it out of her sequined clutch and stared at the<br />
screen.<br />
Aria: I just heard from A. Have you?<br />
The words sent a knife through Spencer’s chest. Should she have told the others about her A note?<br />
I’m not paying attention to A, Spencer typed back. Neither should you.<br />
Aria replied immediately. What if A knows?<br />
A car blared its horn, nearly sideswiping Spencer. She jumped away, still staring at her phone. Should she reply? Should she worry? Or was that exactly<br />
what A wanted?<br />
“Spencer?”<br />
When she looked up, Zach was standing at the front of the line. The bouncer had unclipped the rope and opened the door for him.<br />
“Coming!” Spencer slipped the phone back in her purse. She couldn’t deal with A right now.<br />
The music thrummed in Spencer’s ears as she ducked into the dark, industrial space. Vague outlines of bodies stood at the bar and gyrated on the<br />
dance floor, backlit by neon flashing lights and round, swinging bulbs. Zach was right about Thursday being the night to go out—Shampoo was packed,<br />
and the air was humid and sweaty. Four bartenders worked efficiently, pouring drinks so quickly they barely even looked down at what they were doing.<br />
Beautiful girls in barely there dresses turned to smile at Zach, but Zach didn’t even notice them. His eyes were squarely on Spencer. Swoon.<br />
“Two mojitos,” Zach told a bartender, using the proper Spanish intonation. Their drinks arrived quickly, and they found a table in the corner. It was almost
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