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Spencer stepped back as if Ali had slapped her. “Ian told you that? When?”
“When we were on our date,” she lied.
Spencer’s lips parted. No words came out of her mouth.
Ali edged closer. “You’re so lame, acting like you don’t know we’re together. But of course you do, Spence. That’s why you liked him, isn’t it? Because I’m with him? Because your sister’s with him?” She shrugged. “The only reason he kissed you the other night was because I asked him to. He didn’t want to, but I begged.”
Spencer’s eyes boggled. “Why?”
“I wanted to see if he would do anything for me.” She stuck out her lip. “Oh, Spence. Did you really believe he liked you?”
Spencer looked dizzy. A lightning bug landed on her arm, but she didn’t flick it away. Ali waited for her to whirl around in fury, but instead, she reached out and pushed Ali so hard that her feet went out from under her and her body flew back. A series of images flashed past her: the hazy lights, the huge moon in the sky, and then whiteness. A loud crack sounded in her ears. Her head throbbed with pain. She landed sharply on her elbow and rolled to her side. Moisture seeped into her clothes, but for a moment, she was too stunned to move.
An owl screeched in the trees. Ali opened her eyes, then felt the dirt caked onto the side of her cheek. She wiggled her fingers, then her toes, then rolled over and attempted to sit up. Spencer was still standing there, but she looked transfixed, almost like she had been hypnotized. Ali stood and brushed herself off. When she ran down the path, Spencer didn’t follow.
Good.
She padded toward her yard. But as she reached the hedges at the back of the property, a door banged in the barn, and a new thought struck her. What if her sister had seized the opportunity and gone inside the barn with Aria, Emily, and Hanna? She might be pretending she was Ali—or telling them everything.
She wheeled back around, her head throbbing. That had to be it! She couldn’t believe she’d fallen for it.
She doubled back toward the barn, feet slipping in the dewy grass. A door slammed, and she could just make out through the windows Spencer walking back inside. A crack sounded behind her, and she turned. Something was moving near the Hastingses’ patio. A person.
Ali’s hand flew to her mouth. “Courtney?” she whispered, too quietly for anyone to hear.
Only, it was two people, not one. They stuck close together, moving toward the side of the house and stopping by the Hastingses’ garden hose caddy. The taller of the two pushed the smaller figure up against the side of the house. Their bodies pressed together, and their lips met in a kiss.
Ali squinted hard. At first, she thought it was Ian and Melissa—they were around here somewhere. Then a car passed on the street, its headlights shining against the figures for a brief second. Her mother’s long blond hair and sharp profile shimmered into view. Ali gasped and looked at the taller figure, who was now caressing Mrs. DiLaurentis’s neck. The headlights touched on his face for a brief moment, illuminating his strong jaw, long and slender nose, full head of hair. He leaned Mrs. DiLaurentis against the side of the house with authority, as though he owned the place.
And then it hit Ali: He did own the place. The man her mother was kissing was Spencer’s father.
She wheeled backward, feeling literally struck down by the news. There was no way this could be true. Her mother hated Mr. Hastings, didn’t she? But then she heard her mother’s words on the phone: We just need a little more cash, honey. Just to pay the rest of her hospital bills…. she’s your daughter, too.
Her insides curdled. Mr. Hastings certainly had money to pay hospital bills—especially for a deranged daughter no one knew about. Perhaps this explained why Mr. DiLaurentis always seemed so outrageously jealous of the Hastings—perhaps he sensed that something was going on. But what had gone on? He’d gotten Ali’s mom pregnant while they were having an affair . . . and then what? She’d passed the twins off as Mr. DiLaurentis’s, clearly. Maybe she’d tried to drop it for a while . . . until things got bad between Ali and Courtney, when she needed Mr. Hastings’s financial help. Perhaps he’d helped them move to Rosewood. Got them a house next door so he could keep an eye on his daughter—and his mistress. How convenient, Ali thought acidly. Her father, next door, and she’d never even known.
Ali felt like she was going to throw up. Instead, she turned around and ran. That it was someone she knew, her best friend’s father, made it even worse. How could her mother never tell her this? How could they move next door to the Hastingses, her real father within arm’s reach but off-limits? And this made her and Spencer . . . sisters.
Mist swirled around her head, and she suddenly lost her bearings. She came to a stop in her yard—at least she thought it was her yard. Everything looked unfamiliar. The house glowed far away, up a long, gradual slope of grass. A tarp flapped next to her, and the moonlight caught a glint of a discarded tool on the ground. She hadn’t realized she was so close to the half-dug hole. One false move, and she could have fallen right in.
“It’s pretty shocking, huh?”
Ali jerked her head up. A figure stood opposite her, shrouded in shadow. Her face was tilted toward the kissing couple in the Hastingses’ yard.
“Looks like our family tree has a lot of rotten apples,” the person said, in a voice that indicated she’d figured everything out, too.
Then she stepped into the light, and Ali swallowed hard. It was her sister.
