Later that evening, after the police had finished raiding the Vanderwaal mansion, Wilden arrived at the Hastingses' house to ask Melissa a few final questions. He was sitting on their leather living room couch now, his eyes puffy and tired. Everyone looked tired, actually—except for Spencer's mother, who wore a crisp Marc Jacobs shirtdress. She and Spencer's father were standing on the far side of the room, as if there daughters were covered in bacteria.
Melissa's voice was monotone. "I didn't tell you the truth about that night," she admitted. "Ian and I had been drinking, and I fell asleep. When I woke up, he wasn't there. Then I fell asleep again and he was there when I woke."
"Why didn't you say anything about this before?" Spencer's father demanded.
Melissa shook her head. "I went to Prague that next morning. At that point, I'm not sure anyone really knew Alison went missing. When I got back and everyone was frantic…well, I just thought Ian would be capable of something like that." She picked at the hem on her pale yellow Juicy hoodie. "I suspected they'd hooked up all those years ago, but I didn't think it was serious. I didn't think Alison had given him an ultimatum." Like everyone else, Melissa had learned of Ian's motives. "I mean, she was in seventh grade."
Melissa glanced at Wilden. "When you started asking questions this week about where Ian and I were, I started to wonder if maybe I should've said something years ago. But I still didn't think it was possible. And I didn't say anything then because…because I thought I'd somehow get in trouble for concealing the truth. And, I mean, I couldn't have that. What would people think of me?"
Her sister's face crumpled. Spencer tried hard not to gape. She'd seen her sister cry plenty of times, but usually out of frustration, anger, rage, or a ploy to get her own way. Never out of fear or shame.
Spencer waited for her parents tp rush over to console Melissa. But they sat stock-still, judgmental looks on their faces. She wondered if she and Melissa had been dealing with the exact same issues all this time. Melissa had made impressing their parents look so effortless that Spencer never realized that she agonized about it, too.
Spencer plopped down at her sister's side and threw her arms around Melissa's shoulders. "It's okay," she whispered in her ear. Melissa raised her head for a moment, noted Spencer confusedly, then set her head on Spencer's shoulder and sobbed.
Wilden handed Melissa a tissue and stood up, thanking them for their cooperation throughout this ordeal. As he was leaving, the house phone rang. Mrs. Hastings walked primly to the phone in the den and answered. Within seconds, she poked her head into the living room. "Spencer," she whispered, her face still sober but her eyes bright with excitement. "It's for you. It's Mr. Edwards."
A hot, sick feeling washed over Spencer. Mr. Edwards was the head of the Golden Orchid committee. A personal phone call from him could mean only one thing.
Spencer licked her lips, then stood. The other side of the room, where her mom was standing, seemed like a mile away. She wondered what her mom's secret phone calls were about—what big gift she'd bought for Spencer because she'd been so certain Spencer would win the Golden Orchid. Even if it was the most wonderful thing in the world, Spencer wasn't sure she'd be able to enjoy it.
"Mom?" Spencer approached her mother and leaned against the antique Chippendale desk next to the phone. "Don't you think it's wrong that I cheated?"
Mrs. Hastings quickly covered the phone's mouthpiece. "Well, of course. But we discussed this." She shoved the phone to Spencer's ear. "Say hello," she hissed.
Spencer swallowed hard. "Hello?" she finally croaked into the phone.
"Miss Hastings?" a man's voice chirped. "This is Mr. Edwards, the head of the Golden Orchid committee. I know it's late, but I have some very exciting news for you. It was a tough decision, given our two hundred outstanding nominees, and I am pleased to announce that…"
It sounded as if Mr. Edwards were talking underwater—Spencer barely heard the rest. She glanced at her sister, sitting all alone on the couch. It had taken so much courage for Melissa to admit she'd lied. She could've said she didn't remember, and no one would've been the wiser, but instead, she'd done the right thing. Spencer thought, too, of Mona's offer to her—I know how badly you want to be perfect. The thing was, being perfect didn't mean anything if it wasn't real.
Spencer put her mouth back up to the phone. Mr. Edwards paused, waiting for Spencer to reply. She took a deep breath, rehearsing in her head what she would say: Mr. Edwards, I have a confession to make.
It was a confession no one was going to like. But she could do this. She really could.