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“Are you happy?” the voice said.
Courtney’s jaw wobbled. “I don’t know,” she said, looking back down in the hole, a hand over her mouth. “I can’t believe I just . . . did that.”
“But it was our plan all along.”
Suddenly, Ali realized whose voice it was. She tried to react, tried to scream, but she could feel herself slipping away inch by inch, first her feet, then her calves, then her knees. She struggled to stay present, but it was just too much of an effort. She stared at the top of the hole until her sister’s figure was nothing but a big blob of light and shadow. She thought of the second voice, that voice she knew. Only one question screamed over and over in her brain: Why?
But before she could answer, the dying feeling, like a candle fizzling out, had reached her neck. She inhaled the last breath she would ever take, and then shut her eyes. After a moment, amid the dirt and the rocks and the earthworms, she breathed out and finally let go.
34
MISSING: ALISON DILAURENTIS
The following morning, the real Alison DiLaurentis watched the sun come up through the maple blinds in her old bedroom. Bands of light illuminated the vanity she’d begged her mom to buy for her in fifth grade, the blue crystal knobs on her closet and bureau drawers, the faint patina of dust on the flat-screen monitor and TV. This room even smelled the same, like vanilla hand soap. It felt like home.
Finally.
The aroma of coffee brewing in the kitchen wafted into her nostrils. When she looked over the railing, her family was already awake. Mr. and Mrs. DiLaurentis sat at the kitchen table, staring blearily at each other. Jason paced the hall, looking worried.
Just one family member was missing, though Ali certainly wouldn’t miss her.
She glanced at herself in the mirror. Her eyes had always been bluer than her sister’s, the cheekbones in her heart-shaped face more pronounced. She was the more beautiful twin, the rightful queen bee of Rosewood Day. Now it was time to reclaim her throne from that bitch. Just thinking of her, just picturing her face, still filled Ali with rage. How dare she go outside in sixth grade and pretend she was someone she wasn’t. How dare she show up at the Preserve during those visits and pick at her perfect manicure or text with her friends while their parents tried to make conversation. That bitch deserved everything she got. And now Ali would never have to worry about her again.
She walked downstairs, her head held high. But when she entered the kitchen, her family looked up and paled as if they’d seen a ghost. Mrs. DiLaurentis stepped forward and touched her arm. “I think you should go back upstairs, Courtney.”
Ali stopped short. “I already told you. I’m not Courtney. I’m Ali.”
Her parents exchanged a worried glance. A thin ribbon of fear began to niggle its way into Ali’s brain. She knew that look. It is happening again.
And now their other daughter was missing.
Last night, when she’d come home, Ali hadn’t expected her father to be awake—or for her mother to be home—but she still thought she’d pulled it off okay. They’d both caught her as she was sneaking up the stairs and yelled out her name—her real name.
“Hey, Mom, hey, Dad,” she’d said breezily, staying in the shadows so they couldn’t see her disheveled hair or the bruise on her cheek. “The sleepover was a bust. We kind of got into a fight. I’m off to bed.”
She made it to her old bedroom and shut the door. Once inside, she’d scrubbed at her hands and brushed her hair. Her brain had whirled, trying to come up with what she and her friends had been fighting about. It had looked like her sister was trying to hypnotize them or something, right? But Spencer wasn’t into it. And then her sister and Spencer got into that stupid fight about Ian Thomas outside the barn—Ali heard everything.
Then a knock had sounded on her door.
She’d jumped up and offered her parents, who were standing nervously in the hall, a twitchy smile. Their gazes zipped to Ali’s pointer finger, which, of course, was missing its initial ring. Then they looked at her wrist. It was naked; no Jenna Thing string bracelet. Crap.
“Courtney?” Mrs. DiLaurentis asked tentatively. “Honey, were you outside?”
“I’m not Courtney,” Ali said, frowning. “I’m Ali. See? This is why I didn’t want you to bring her home. It’s so confusing.”
She tried to shut the door, but Mr. DiLaurentis stuck his hand on the jamb before she could. “This isn’t your room, Courtney,” he said with authority.
And you aren’t my dad, Ali wanted to snap. “Yes, it is,” she said instead, and then glowered at him. “And please don’t call me Courtney. It’s insulting.”
Mrs. DiLaurentis looked confused. “Were you trying to hang out with your sister and her friends? Did you go into Spencer’s barn?”
Ali shrugged. “Yeah, I was in Spencer’s barn—I’m Ali. But the sleepover sucked. We had a fight, and we all went home. I already told you.”
Mrs. DiLaurentis blinked hard. “So no one’s in the barn anymore?”
“Yeah. They went home.”
Looking like she didn’t quite believe her, Mrs. DiLaurentis walked swiftly to the window in the bathroom, which offered a view of the backyards. Ali already knew the barn’s windows were dark. Seconds later, her mom wheeled back into Ali’s room. “Where’s your sister?”
“Courtney?” Ali stared at her innocently. “I have no idea. She’s not in her room?”
Mrs. DiLaurentis poked her head into the dark guest room, then shook her head.
