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Spencer didn’t mean to pull the trigger of the paintball gun…it just happened. Blue paint splattered all over Ali’s jumpsuit, and Ali let out a startled cry. Then she glared at Spencer and stormed away. What if she’d gone and told Melissa then, and Melissa had been waiting all this time for the right moment to drop it on Spencer? Maybe this was it.
“Any guesses who it was?” Melissa goaded, breaking Spencer out of the memory.
Spencer sank down farther into the hot tub’s bubbles, her eyes stinging with chlorine. A kiss hardly qualified as cheating, and it had been so long ago. “Nope. No clue.”
Melissa sighed. “Maybe Dr. Evans is full of it. What does she know, really?”
Spencer studied her sister carefully. She thought about what Dr. Evans had said about Melissa—that her sister needed validation. That she was jealous of Spencer. It was such a weird possibility to consider. And could Melissa’s issues have something to do with the time they’d been mugged, Spencer had gotten sick, and Melissa had had to go to her Bee with Yolanda? How many other things had her sister missed out on that summer because her parents were too busy hovering over Spencer? How many times had she been shoved to the side?
I liked when we were friends, said a voice inside Spencer’s head. I liked quizzing you with your spelling words. I hate the way things are now. I’ve hated it for a long time.
“Does it really matter if Ian cheated on you in high school?” Spencer said quietly. “I mean, it was so long ago.”
Melissa stared up at the dark, clear sky. All the stars had come out. “Of course it matters. It was wrong. And if I ever find out it’s true, Ian is going to regret it for the rest of his life.”
Spencer flinched. She’d never heard Melissa sound so vengeful. “And what will you do to the girl?”
Melissa turned very slowly and gave Spencer a poisonous smile. At that very moment, the backyard’s timed lights snapped on. Melissa’s eyes glowed. “Who says I haven’t done something to her already?”
27
OLD HABITS DIE HARD
Late Saturday afternoon, Aria slumped down behind a maple in the McCreadys’ yard, which was across the street from her own house. She watched as three cookie-selling Girl Scouts strode to her family’s front door. Ella’s not home, but put her down for a couple boxes of Thin Mints, she wanted to tell the girls. They’re her favorite.
The girls waited. When no one answered, they went to the next house.
Aria knew it was weird to have biked here from Sean’s, stalking her own house as if it were a velvet-rope celebrity club and she were a paparazzo, but she missed her family so badly. The Ackards were like the bizarro-Montgomerys. Mr. and Mrs. Ackard had joined the Rosewood Stalker Community Watch Board. They’d established a twenty-four-hour tip hotline, and in a few days, it would be Mr. and Mrs. Ackard’s turn to make the nightly rounds. And every time any of them looked at her, Aria felt like they could tell what she’d done with Ezra in his office. It was as though she had a big scarlet A on her shirt now, too.
Aria needed to clear her head and purge herself of Ezra. Only, she couldn’t stop thinking about him. This whole bike ride had been one Ezra reminder after another. She’d passed a chubby man eating Chicken McNuggets and had gotten weak-kneed from the smell. She’d seen a girl with black plastic glasses just like Ezra’s and felt chills. Even a cat on a garden wall had reminded her of Ezra, for no good reason at all. But what was she thinking? How could something be so wrong…yet so right at the same time?
As she passed a stone house with its own waterwheel, a Channel 7 news van whizzed by. It disappeared over the hill, the wind slid through the trees, and the sky suddenly darkened. All at once, Aria felt as if a hundred spiders were crawling over her. Someone was watching.
A?
When her Treo let out a whirly little ring, she nearly fell off her bike. She hit the brakes, pulled onto the sidewalk, and reached for it in her pocket. It was Sean.
“Where are you?” he asked.
“Um…I went out for a bike ride,” she answered, chewing on the cuff of her beat-up red hoodie.
“Well, come home soon,” Sean said. “Otherwise we’ll be late to Mona’s.”
Aria sighed. She’d completely forgotten about Mona Vanderwaal’s party.
He sighed back at her, too. “Do you not want to go?”
Aria squeezed the bike’s brakes and stared at the beautiful Gothic Revival house in front of her. The owners had decided to paint it royal purple. Aria’s parents were the only people in the neighborhood who hadn’t signed a petition demanding the artist-owners paint it a more conservative color, but the petition hadn’t held up in court. “I’m not really friends with Mona,” Aria mumbled. “Or anyone else going to that party.”
“What are you talking about?” Sean sounded baffled.
“They’re my friends, so they’re your friends. We’re going to have a great time. And, I mean, other than our bike ride, I feel like I haven’t seen you, really, since you moved in with me. Which is weird, if you think about it.”
Suddenly, Aria’s call waiting beeped. She brought her phone away from her ear and looked at the screen. Ezra. She clapped her hand over her mouth.
“Sean, can I put you on hold for a sec?” She tried to contain the exhilaration in her voice.
“Why?” Sean asked.
“Just…hang on.” Aria clicked over. She cleared her throat and smoothed down her hair, as if Ezra were watching her on a video screen. “Hello?” She tried to sound cool yet seductive.
