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Her phone beeped, and she pounced on it, but it was just a text from Spencer: We’re getting together at my house. Please come over!
Out the window, Spencer, Aria, Emily, and Hanna sat in bathing suits on Spencer’s patio. She flopped back down on the pillow, feeling tears prick her eyes. They’d take one look at her and know. Emily had probably told the others that Ali was seeing someone older; maybe they’d ask if he was why her eyes were so red. And how could she fake it?
They’d see the weakness in her eyes. They’d see what sort of messed-up life she had. They would prey on her like she’d preyed on them. That was what best friends did, wasn’t it? They ate each other alive. They would give Ali a taste of her own medicine.
She scrolled through her texts, making sure she hadn’t missed any from Nick, but she hadn’t. What was he doing right now? Eating lunch, happily going on with his life? Would he ever take her back?
And even worse than that, she’d told him about her sister, something she’d sworn to keep a secret forever. Now, she felt naked, exposed.
Her phone pinged again. You coming? Spencer asked. I see the light on in your bedroom.
“God,” Ali said through her teeth, tossing the phone toward the closet. It hit the wall hard, knocking off a photograph of Ali and her friends on a boat in Newport Harbor. After a moment, Ali slid off her bed, slithered toward her phone, and composed a text to Spencer.
Not feeling up to it.
Another text arrived immediately. Why not? Are you sick? Can we help?
Ali shut her eyes and didn’t answer. The last thing she wanted was their pity.
Another ping. We’re going to come over, Spencer wrote. Whatever you need, we can help.
“No!” Ali screamed, but she already knew it was too late. And when she stood, Spencer, Aria, Hanna, and Emily had already left Spencer’s patio and were heading for the side yard. In seconds, they would be here.
Suddenly, her arms and legs could move again. She slipped on a pair of flip-flops, pulled her hair in a ponytail, and barreled down the stairs. She almost crashed into the console table in the hall as she wheeled toward the garage, but she had to get out of here—fast.
Mrs. DiLaurentis, who had her head in the fridge, looked up as she passed. “Ali? Are you okay?”
“Fine,” Ali snapped, reaching for the handle to the sliding-glass door.
“Can we talk?” Bottles of salad dressing rattled as the fridge door slammed shut.
“I’m busy,” Ali barked.
Outside, the sun seemed almost alien, way too bright. A lawn mower buzzed in the distance, and bees flitted around the newly sprung daffodils. Ali’s nose twitched with the scent of something close and sour, and after a moment, she realized it was herself. She hadn’t taken off the shirt she’d worn on her date with Nick yesterday.
She took a step off the patio, then paused. The trees at the edge of the property whispered and hissed. Ali froze. It felt like someone was watching. She looked back and forth, almost expecting to see a pair of eyes gazing out from the woods. A shiver darted up her back.
“Ali?”
She jumped, jerking her hand to the side and hitting it hard against the bricks. Standing at the edge of the yard were Spencer and the others, all of them looking sheepish and worried.
Spencer took a small step forward. “Are you sick? You look sick.”
“I could make you chicken soup,” Hanna offered. “Or brownies. My dad always used to do that for me when I was sick.”
“Maybe you should go back to bed?” Emily asked in a small voice.
Ali ran her hand through her greasy hair and wished she’d changed her shirt. “I’m fine, just a little bug,” she said, sighing. “I suppose I could tan for a while.”
“Oh.” Spencer pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, okay. Let’s go.”
They headed back to Spencer’s yard. Spencer started chattering about a party next week that they were all invited to, and Hanna suggested they all go shopping for dresses after school on Monday. But with every step they took, Ali could feel their concern. That familiar thick, goopy nastiness filled her, and suddenly she wanted to shake something hard. She wanted everyone to feel as horrible as she did.
Aria glanced over her shoulder, giving Ali a worried look, and Ali felt a fire burn inside of her. She grabbed Aria’s arm. “Do you want to talk about anything?” she whispered in a fake concerned tone.
Aria paled and stared straight ahead. “No. I’m fine.”
Ali clucked her tongue. “It’s not good to hold things in, Aria—I’ve seen it on Dr. Phil all the time. You need to vent about this. Get it out. Otherwise you’ll be, like, sexually repressed or something when you get older.”
Aria squirmed. “Really?”
Ali laid her hand on her shoulder. “Yep. So, tell Dr. Ali what you’re going to do.”
Aria kicked at a clump of cut grass that the mowing service had forgotten to bag. “I can’t do anything about it,” she whispered.
“Do you think they’re, like, dating?” Ali’s voice rose with a mix of horror and excitement. “She was so young!”
Aria shoved her hands in her pockets and just shrugged. But her eyes were wet, as though she was about to cry. Ali turned away. At least she wasn’t crying right now. At least her mom was having an affair with someone her own age.
Hanna looked over her shoulder and frowned at Aria’s injured expression. “What are you guys talking about back there?” She lagged behind so that Ali and Aria could catch up. “Is everything okay?”
