Nineteen: Fortune Cookies Usually Never Say Anything This Good.

Thursday night after swimming, Emily stood in front of the full-length mirror in the Rosewood Day natatorium, examining her outfit. She had on her favorite pair of chocolate brown corduroys, a pale pink blouse with just a teensy bit of ruffle, and dark pink flats. Was the look appropriate for a dinner at China Rose with Isaac? Or was it too girly and un-Emily? Not that she knew what constituted "Emily" these days.

"Why are you looking all cute?" Carolyn burst around the corner, making Emily jump. "You got a date?"

"No!" Emily said quickly, horrified.

Carolyn cocked her head knowingly. "Who is she? Anyone I know?"

She. Emily sucked her teeth. "I'm just meeting a guy for dinner. A friend. That's all."

Carolyn flitted over and adjusted Emily's collar. "Is that the story you gave Mom, too?"

Actually, it was the story Emily had given her mother. She was probably the only girl in Rosewood who could tell her parents she was going out with a boy without getting any paranoid lectures about how sex is a serious thing and should be between two people who were much older and in love.

Ever since her kiss was Isaac yesterday, she'd been wandering around in a perplexed haze. She had no idea what had happened in any of her classes today. Her peanut butter and jelly sandwich at lunch could've been made with sawdust and sardines, for all she'd noticed. And she'd barely flinched when Mike Montgomery and Noel Kahn waved to her in the parking lot after swim practice, asking if she'd had a good Christmas break. "Is there a lesbian version of Santa Claus?" Mike had yelled excitedly. "Did you sit on her lap? Are there lesbian elves?"

Emily hadn't even been offended, and that worried her too—if gay jokes no longer bothered her, did that mean she wasn't gay? But wasn't that the big, scary thing she'd figured out about herself over the past few months? The reason her parents had shipped her off to Iowa? If she felt the same emotions for Isaac as she had for Maya and Ali, what did that make her? Straight? Bi? Confused?

As much as she wanted to tell her family about Isaac—he was, ironically, the model boy to bring home to her parents—she felt sheepish. What if they didn't believe her? What if they laughed? What if they got angry? She'd put them through a lot this fall. Now she liked a boy again, just like that? And her note from A had actually made a good point. She had no idea how conservative Isaac was or how he'd react to the secrets of her past. What if it made him uncomfortable and he never spoke to her again?

Emily slammed her locker shut, spun the dial, and then scooped up her canvas bag. "Good luck," Carolyn singsonged breezily as Emily left the locker room. "I'm sure she'll love you." Emily winced, but didn't correct her.

China Rose was a few miles down Route 30, a cheerful little stand-alone building next to a falling-down stone structure that used to be a spring. To get there, Emily had to drive through the parking lot of a Kinko's, a yarn store, and the Amish market, which sold homemade apple butter and paintings of farm animals on lacquered slabs of wood. When she got out of the car, parking lot was eerily silent. Too silent? The hair on the back of her neck began to rise. Emily had never called Aria back last night to discuss New A. Frankly, Emily had been too afraid to talk to anyone about it, and decided that if she just didn't think about it, maybe it would go away. Aria hadn't called back either. Emily wondered if she was trying to block it out too.

The Rosewood Bowl-O-Rama was in the business complex too, although it was in the process of being remodeled into yet another Whole Foods.

Emily, Ali, and the others used to go bowling at this very alley on Friday nights at the beginning of sixth grade, right after they'd become friends. At first, Emily had thought it was strange. She'd assumed they'd be hanging out at the King James Mall, where Ali and old posse used to go on the weekends. But Ali said she needed a break from the King James—and from everyone else at Rosewood Day. "New friends need alone time, don't you think?" Ali told them. "And no one from school will find us here."

It had been in this very bowling alley that Emily asked Ali her one and only question about the Time Capsule game—and the spooky thing Ian had said to Ali that day. They had been fooling around in a lane, getting a sugar rush off fountain sodas from the snack bar and seeing if they could knock down more pins by bowling between their legs. Emily felt extra brave that night, more willing to delve into the past that they all tried so hard to avoid. When Spencer got up to bowl and Hanna and Aria ran off to the vending machines, Emily turned to Ali, who was busy drawing cartoon smiley faces in the margins of the scorecard.

"Do you remember that fight Ian Thomas and your brother got into that day Time Capsule was announced?" Emily asked casually, as if she hadn't been thinking about it for weeks.

Ali laid down the nubby scorecard pencil and stared at Emily foe nearly a minute. Finally she leaned over and retired her already tight shoelace. "Jason's a freak," she mumbled. "I teased him about it when he gave me a ride home that day."

But Jason hadn't given Ali a ride him that day—he'd sped away in a black car, and Ali and her posse had headed toward the woods. "So that fight didn't upset you, then?"

Ali looked up, grinning. "Easy there, Killer! I can take care of myself!" It was the first time Ali had ever called her Killer—as in, her personal, protective pit bull—and the name had stuck.

Looking back on it now, Emily wondered if Ali had gone to meet Ian that day and covered it up with her lie about riding him with Jason. Shaking all thoughts of Ali from her head, Emily slammed the door of the Volvo, put her keys in her pocket, and made her way down the little brick path to China Rose's front door. The inside of the restaurant was decorated to look like a thatch-roofed hut, with bamboo sheaths covering the ceiling and a big aquarium filled with bloated, silvery goldfish. Emily wove around the takeout waiting area, the smell of ginger and green onions tickling her nose. A bunch of cooks hovered over enormous works in the chaotic open kitchen. Thankfully, she didn't see anyone she recognized from Rosewood Day.

Isaac was waving at her from a table toward the rear. Emily waved back, wondering if her face was contorted with nerves. Feeling wobbly, she walked toward him, trying not to bump into any of the tightly grouped tables.

"Hi," Isaac said. He was wearing a dark blue button-down that brought out his eyes. His hair was pushed back from his face, showing off his chiseled cheekbones.

"Hi," Emily answered. There was a pregnant pause as she sat down.

"Thanks for coming," Isaac said, rather formally.

"You're welcome." Emily tried to sound shy and demure.

"I missed you," Isaac added.

"Oh," Emily squeaked, having no clue how to respond. "She took a sip of water so she wouldn't have to answer.

A waitress interrupted, handing them menus and towels for their hands. Emily laid the towel over her wrists, trying to calm down. Feeling the moist heat against her skin made her think of the time she and Maya had gone swimming in the Marwyn trail stream in the fall. The creek water had been so warm from the midday sun, as soothing as a hot tub.

A pan clattered in the kitchen, shattering Emily's thoughts. Why on earth had Maya popped into her head? Isaac gazed at her curiously, as if he knew what she was thinking. It made her blush even more.

Emily stared down at the place mats of the Chinese zodiac, eager to get her mind off Maya. Along the place mat margins was the regular zodiac too. "What's your sign?" she blurted.

"Virgo," Isaac answered promptly. "Generous, shy, and a perfectionist. What are you?"

"Taurus," Emily answered.

"That means we're compatible." Isaac gave her a little smile.

Emily raised an eyebrow, startled. "You know about astrology?"

"My aunt's into it," Isaac explained, running the hot towel over his palms. "She's at our house all the time, and she does my chart a couple times a year. I've known all about my mom and rising sign since I was six. She'll do your chart, if you want."

Emily grinned, thrilled. "I'd love that."

"But actually, did you know we're not really the astrological signs we think we are?" Isaac took a sip of his green tea. "I saw something about it on the Science Channel. People created the zodiac thousands of years ago, but between then and now, the earth has slowly moved on its axis. The zodiac constellations and the months in which they appear in the sky are out of synch by one whole astrological sign. I didn't quite get all the logistics, but technically, you're not a Taurus. You're an Aries."

Emily's mind boggled. Aries? That was impossible. Her whole life lined up perfectly with what was right for a Taurus, from choosing what colors to wear to what her best swimming stroke was. Ali used to tease that dependable, stubborn Tauruses always had the most boring horoscopes, but Emily liked her sign. The only thing she knew about Aries people was that they were impatient, had to be the center of attention, and were sometimes kind of slutty. Spencer was an Aries. Or was she really a Pisces?

Isaac leaned forward, pushing his menu to the side. "And I'm a Leo. And we're still compatible." He laid down his menu. "So now that we've gotten the whole astrology thing out of the way, what else should I know about you?"

A niggling little voice inside of Emily's head said there were lots of things he should know, but she just shrugged. "Why don't you tell me about you first?"

"Okay…" Isaac took a sip of water, thinking. "We'll, besides playing the guitar, I also play the piano. I've taken lessons since I was three."

"Wow," Emily exclaimed. "I took lessons when I was younger, but I found it way too boring. My parents used to tell at me because I never practiced."

Isaac smiled. "My parents forced me to practice, too. So…what else? Well, my dad owns a catering company. And because I'm a nice guy and his son and therefore cheap labor, I work a lot of his events."

Emily grinned. "So you can cook?"

Isaac shook his head. "Nope, I'm pathetic—I can't even make toast. All I do is serve. Next week I'm working a fund-raiser at this burn rehab place. It's a plastic surgery hospital too, but hopefully the party isn't to raise money for any of that." He made a face.

Emily widened her eyes. There was only one burn rehab/plastic surgery clinic around here. "You mean the William Atlantic?"

Isaac nodded, smiling questioningly.

Emily looked away, gazing blankly at the big bronze gong near the hostess stand. Some little boy with two missing front teeth was trying desperately to kick it while his dad held him back. The William Atlantic—or Bill Beach, as a lot of people called it—was where Jenna Cavanaugh had been treated for her burns after Ali accidentally blinded her with the firework. Or maybe Ali burned her on purpose…Emily didn't know what was true anymore. Mona Vanderwaal had been treated there for the burns she'd received that same night.

Isaac's eyebrows lowered. "What's the matter? Did I say something wrong?"

Emily shrugged. "I, uh, I know the kid whose dad founded the burn clinic."

"You know David Ackard's son?"

"He goes to my school."

Isaac nodded. "Right. Rosewood Day."

"I'm on partial scholarship," Emily said quickly. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was one of the privileged, spoiled rich kids.

"You must be really smart," Isaac said.

Emily ducked her head. "Nah."

A waitress passed by, balancing multiple plates of General Tso's Chicken. "My dad is catering a Rosewood Day fund-raiser on Saturday. It's at some ten-bedroom farmhouse."

"Oh yeah?" Emily's stomach burbled. Isaac was obviously talking about the event at Spencer's house—there's been an announcement about the fund-raiser that morning in homeroom. Nearly every parent attended school fund-raisers, and most students went too, as no one could resist an opportunity to dress up and sneak glasses of champagne while their parents weren't watching.

"So will I see you there?" Isaac's face lit up.

Emily pressed the tines of her fork into her palm. If she went, people were bound to ask questions about why they were together. But if she didn't go and Isaac asked around about her, someone might tell him the truth about her past. Like Noel Kahn or Mike Montgomery, or maybe even Ben, Emily's old boyfriend. Maybe New A would be there, too.

"I guess you will see me there," she decided.

"Great." Isaac smiled. "I'll be the one in the caterer's tuxedo."

Emily blushed. "Maybe you can serve me personally," she flirted.

"Done," Isaac said. He squeezed her hand, and Emily's heart did a somersault.

Suddenly, Isaac looked beyond Emily's swiveled around, her heart dropped to her knees. She blinked several times, hoping the girl standing there was just a mirage.

"Hey, Emily." Maya St. Germain pushed a curly lock of hair out of her tiger yellow eyes. She was wearing a heavy white sweater, a denim skirt, and white cable-knit tights. Her eyes kept ping-ponging back and forth from Emily to Isaac, trying to figure out what they were doing together.

Emily pulled her hand away from Isaac's. "Isaac," she croaked, "this is Maya. We go to school together."

Isaac stood up halfway, offering his hand. "Hi. I'm Emily's date."

Maya widened her eyes and took a step back, as if Isaac had just said that he was made of cow manure. "Right," she joked. "Her date. Good one."

Isaac's eyebrows knitted together. "I'm…sorry?"

Maya's forehead furrowed. And then time seemed to slow down. Emily saw the precise moment when the realization rolled over Maya's face—it wasn't a joke. A slow, amused smile grew across her lips. You're on an actual date with him. Maya's eyes gleamed nastily. And you haven't told him what you are, just like you didn't tell Toby Cavanaugh. Emily realized how angry Maya must be with her—Emily had jerked Maya around all autumn, cheated on her with Trista, a girl she'd met in Iowa, accused Maya of being A, and hadn't said a word to her moths. Here was Maya's big chance to get Emily back for all of that.

As Maya opened her mouth to speak, Emily leapt up, ripped her jacket off the back of her chair, grabbed her purse, and began weaving around the tables toward the door. There was no point being here when Maya told Isaac. She didn't want to see the disappointment—and most certainly disgust—on Isaac's face.

The freezing air whipped around her. When she reached her car, she leaned over the hood, trying to regain her balance. She didn't dare look back inside the restaurant. It would be best if she got in the car, drove away, and never came to this shopping village again.

Wind swirled around the desolate parking lot. A big streetlight above Emily's head flickered and swayed. Then something rustled behind a massive Cadillac Escalade. Two spots down Emily stood on her tiptoes. Was that a shadow? Was someone there? She trifled for her car keys, but they were lost in the depths of her purse.

Her cell phone beeped, and Emily let out a muffled scream. She fumbled for it in her pocket, her hands trembling. One new text message. She stabbed at her keypad, opening it up.

Hi Em—Don't you just hate it when your ex shows up and ruins your romantic night? I wonder how she knew where to find you… Let this be a warning. Talk, and your past will be the least of your problems.

—A

Emily ran her hands over her hair. It made perfect sense—A had sent Maya a text that she was at the restaurant, and Maya, wanting revenge, had taken the bait. Or, even worse, maybe Maya was New A.

"Emily?"

She whirled around, her heart racing. Isaac stood behind her. He wasn't wearing his coat, and his cheeks flared red from the old. "What are you doing out here?" he asked.

Emily stared at the fluorescent lines that demarcated the parking spaces, unable to meet his eyes. "I-I thought it would be better if I left."

"Why?"

She paused. Isaac didn't sound angry. He sounded…confused. She glanced through the windows of the restaurant, watching as the waitresses walked up and down the rows of tables. Was it possible Maya hadn't said anything?

"I'm sorry about what I said in there," Isaac went on, shivering. "That I was your date. I didn't mean to define tonight like that."

His face was full of earnest shame. Suddenly, Emily saw it from his perspective—what he'd blurted out, the delicate mistake he thought he'd made. "Don't apologize," she burst out, steadying his chilled hands. "God, please don't apologize!"

Isaac blinked. One corner of his mouth pulled up into a tentative smile.

"I wanted this to be a date," Emily breathed. As soon as she said it, she knew it was the absolute truth. "In fact, that Rosewood Day fund-raiser you're working? You should see if your dad will let you off for the night. I'd love it if you could come with me…as my date."

Isaac grinned. "I think he could let me off work just this once." Then he squeezed her hands and pulled her loose. Then, as an afterthought, he murmured, "So who was that girl in the restaurant, anyway?"

Emily stiffened, a sharp feeling of guilt prodding her side. She should just tell Isaac the truth before A did. Would it really be so bad? Hadn't she spent the entire fall coming to terms with being out in the open about this?

But no—the deal was if Emily kept her mouth shut about A, A would keep quiet to Isaac. Right? The hug was so cozy and warm, and it seemed to ruin the moment. "Oh, just this girl who goes to my school," she finally answered, pushing the truth down deep. "No one important at all."