by Sara Shepard
Hanna sighed, almost annoyed. “Are you here to ask me about A too?”
Emily looked at Aria, then at Spencer, who was picking nervously at her coffee cup’s cardboard sleeve. It was strange to see Aria and Spencer together—didn’t Aria suspect that Spencer had killed Ali? She raised an eyebrow at Aria, indicating as much, but Aria shook her head, mouthing, I’ll explain later.
Emily looked back at Hanna. “Well, I wanted to see how you were, but yeah…” she started.
“Save it,” Hanna said haughtily, winding a tendril of hair around her finger. “I don’t remember what happened. So we might as well talk about something else.” Her voice wobbled with distress.
Emily stepped back. She looked beseechingly at Aria, her eyes saying, She really doesn’t remember? Aria shook her head no.
“Hanna, if we don’t keep asking, you’re never going to remember,” Spencer urged. “Did you get a text? A note? Maybe A put something in your pocket?”
Hanna glowered at Spencer, her lips smushed closed.
“You found out sometime during or after Mona’s party,” Aria encouraged. “Does it have something to do with that?”
“Maybe A said something incriminating,” Spencer said. “Or maybe you saw the person behind the wheel of the SUV that hit you?”
“Would you just stop?” Tears brimmed at the corners of Hanna’s eyes. “The doctor said pushing me like this isn’t good for my recovery.” After a pause, she ran her hands along her soft cashmere blanket and took a deep breath. “If you guys could go back to the time before Ali died, do you think you could prevent it from happening?”
Emily looked around. Her friends seemed as stunned by the question as she was. “Well, sure,” Aria murmured quietly.
“Of course,” Emily said.
“And you’d still want to?” Hanna goaded. “Would we really want Ali around? Now that we know Ali kept the secret about Toby from us and had been seeing Ian behind our backs? Now that we’ve grown up a little and realized that Ali was basically a bitch?”
“Of course I’d want her here,” Emily said sharply. But when she looked around, her friends were staring at the floor, saying nothing.
“Well, we certainly didn’t want her dead,” Spencer finally mumbled. Aria nodded and scratched at her purple nail polish.
Hanna had wrapped a Hermès scarf around part of her cast in what Emily imagined was an attempt to make it look prettier. The rest of the cast, Emily noticed, was filled with signatures. Everyone from Rosewood had signed already—there was a sweeping signature from Noel Kahn; a tidy one from Spencer’s sister, Melissa; a spiky one from Mr. Jennings, Hanna’s math teacher. Someone had signed the cast only with the word KISSES!, the dot in the exclamation point a smiley face. Emily ran her fingers over the word, as if it were Braille.
After a few more minutes of not saying much at all, Aria, Emily, and Spencer gloomily filed out of the room. They were silent until they reached the elevator bank. “What brought on all that stuff she was saying about Ali?” Emily whispered.
“Hanna had a dream about Ali while she was in the coma.” Spencer shrugged and punched the down button for the elevator.
“We have to get Hanna to remember,” Aria whispered. “She knows who A is.”
It was barely 8 A.M. when they emerged into the parking lot. As an ambulance raced past them, Spencer’s cell phone began to play Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. She checked her pocket, irritated. “Who could be calling me this early in the morning?”
Then Aria’s cell phone buzzed too. And Emily’s.
A cold wind swept over all the girls. The hospital-logo flags that hung from the main awning billowed in the breeze. “No,” Spencer gasped.
Emily peeked at the text’s subject line. It said, KISSES!, just like on Hanna’s cast.
Miss me, bitches? Stop digging for answers, or I’ll have to erase your memories too.—A
16
A NEW VICTIM
That Wednesday afternoon, Spencer waited on Rosewood Country Club’s outdoor patio to begin planning Hanna’s welcome-back masquerade with Mona Vanderwaal. She absentmindedly flipped through the AP econ essay that had been nominated for a Golden Orchid. When she’d stolen the essay from Melissa’s arsenal of old high school papers, Spencer hadn’t understood half of it…and she still didn’t. But since the Golden Orchid judges were going to grill her at Friday’s breakfast, she’d decided to learn it word for word. How hard could it be? She memorized entire monologues for drama club all the time. Plus, she was hoping it would get her mind off A.
She closed her eyes and mouthed the first few paragraphs perfectly. Then she imagined the outfit she’d wear for her Golden Orchid interview—definitely something Calvin or Chanel, maybe with some clear-framed, academic-looking glasses. Maybe she’d even bring in the article the Philadelphia Sentinel had done about her and leave it sticking just slightly out of her bag. Then the interviewers would see it and think, My, she’s already been on the front page of a major newspaper!
“Hey.” Mona stood above her in a pretty olive-green dress and tall black boots. She had an oversize dark purple bag slung over her right shoulder, and she carried a Jamba Juice smoothie in her hand. “Am I too early?”
“Nope, you’re perfect.” Spencer moved her books off the seat across from her and stuffed Melissa’s essay into her purse. Her hand grazed against her cell phone. She fought against the masochistic urge to pull it out and look at A’s message again. Stop digging for answers. After everything that had happened, after three days of radio silence, A was still after them. Spencer was dying to talk to Wilden about it, but she was terrified about what A might do if she did.
“You okay?” Mona sat down and stared at Spencer worriedly.
“Sure.” Spencer rattled the straw in her empty Diet Coke glass, trying to push A from her mind. She gestured to her books. “I just have this interview for an essay competition on Friday. It’s in New York. So I’m sort of freaking out.”
Mona smiled. “That’s right, that Golden Orchid thing? You’ve been all over the announcements.”
Spencer ducked her head faux-bashfully. She loved hearing her name on the morning announcements, except when she had to read them herself—then it just seemed boastful. She inspected Mona carefully. Mona had really done a fantastic job transforming from Razor scooter–loving dork to fabulous diva, but Spencer had never really gotten past seeing Mona as one of the many girls Ali liked to tease. This was possibly the first time she’d ever spoken to Mona one-on-one.
Mona cocked her head. “I saw your sister outside your house when I left for school this morning. She said your picture was in Sunday’s paper.”
“Melissa told you that?” Spencer’s eyes widened, feeling a glimmer of uneasiness. She recalled the fearful look that had crossed Melissa’s face yesterday when Wilden asked her where she’d been the night Ali vanished. What was Melissa so afraid of? What was Melissa hiding?
Mona blinked, lost. “Yeah. Why? Is it not true?”
Spencer shook her head slowly. “No, it’s true. I’m just surprised Melissa said something nice about me, is all.”
“What do you mean?” Mona asked.
“We’re not the best of friends.” Spencer glanced furtively around the country club patio, filled with a horrible feeling that Melissa was here, listening. “Anyway,” she said. “About the party. I just talked to the club manager, and they’re all ready for Friday.”
“Perfect.” Mona pulled out a stack of cards and slid them across the table. “These are the invites I came up with. They’re in the shape of a mask, see? But then there’s foil on the front, so when you look into it, you see yourself.”
Spencer looked at her slightly fuzzy reflection in the invite. Her skin was clear and glowing and her newly touched-up buttery highlights brightened her face.
Mona flipped through her Gucci wallet diary, consulting her notes. “I also think, to make Hanna feel really special, we should bring her into the room in a grand princess–st
yle entrance. I’m thinking four hot, shirtless guys could carry her in on a canopied pedestal. Or something like that. I’ve arranged for a bunch of models to come over to Hanna’s tomorrow so she can choose them for herself.”
“That’s awesome.” Spencer folded her hands over her Kate Spade diary. “Hanna’s lucky to have you as a friend.”
Mona looked ruefully out at the golf course and let out a long sigh. “The way things have been between us lately, it’s a miracle that Hanna doesn’t hate me.”
“What are you talking about?” Spencer had heard something about Mona and Hanna getting in a fight at Mona’s birthday party, but she’d been so busy and distracted, she hadn’t really paid attention to the rumors.
Mona sighed and tucked a strand of white-blond hair behind her ear. “Hanna and I haven’t been on the best of terms,” she admitted. “It’s just that, she’d been acting so weird. We used to do everything together, but suddenly she started keeping all these secrets, blowing off plans we made, and acting like she hated me.” Mona’s eyes welled with tears.
A lump formed in Spencer’s throat. She knew just how that felt. Before she disappeared, Ali had done the same thing to her.
“She was spending a lot of time with you guys—and that made me a little jealous.” Mona traced her pointer finger around the perimeter of an empty bread plate on the table. “Truthfully, I was stunned when Hanna wanted to be friends with me in eighth grade. She was part of Ali’s clique, and you guys were legend. I always thought our friendship was too good to be true. Maybe I still kind of feel that way from time to time.”
Spencer stared at her. It was incredible how similar Mona and Hanna’s friendship was to Spencer and Ali’s—Spencer had been astonished when Ali chose her to be part of her inner circle, too. “Well, Hanna’s been hanging out with us because we’ve been dealing with some…issues,” she said. “I’m sure she’d rather be with you.”
Mona bit her lip. “I was terrible to her. I thought she was trying to ditch me, so I just…went on the defensive. But when she got hit by the car…and when I realized she might die…it was awful. She’s been my best friend for years.” She covered her face with her hands. “I just want to forget about all of it. I just want things to be normal again.”
The charms dangling off Mona’s Tiffany bracelet tinkled together prettily. Her mouth puckered, as if she were about to start sobbing. Spencer suddenly felt guilty about the way they used to tease Mona. Ali had taunted her about her vampire tan, and even her height—Ali always said Mona was short enough to be the girl version of Mini Me from Austin Powers. Ali also claimed that Mona had cellulite on her gut—she’d seen Mona changing in the country club locker room and had nearly thrown up it was so ugly. Spencer didn’t believe her, so once, when Ali was spending the night at Spencer’s, they sneaked over to Mona’s house down the street and spied on Mona as she was dancing to videos on VH1 in the den. “I hope her shirt flutters up,” Ali whispered. “Then you’ll see her in all her nastiness.”
Mona’s shirt stayed put. She’d continued to dance around crazily, the way Spencer danced when she thought no one was watching. Then Ali knocked on the window. Mona’s face reddened and she fled out of the room.
“I’m sure everything will be fine between you and Hanna,” Spencer said gently, touching Mona’s thin arm. “And the last thing you should do is blame yourself.”
“I hope so.” Mona gave Spencer a vulnerable smile. “Thanks for listening.”
The waitress interrupted them, setting the leather booklet containing Spencer’s bill on the table. Spencer opened it up and signed her two Diet Cokes to her father’s account. She was surprised that her watch said it was almost five. She stood up, feeling a twinge of sadness, not wanting the conversation to end. When had she last talked to anyone about anything real? “I’m late for rehearsal.” She let out a long, stressed sigh.
Mona inspected her for a moment, then glanced across the room. “Actually, you might not want to leave quite yet.” She nodded toward the double French doors, color returning to her face. “That guy over there just checked you out.”
Spencer glanced over her shoulder. Two college-age guys in Lacoste polos sat at a corner table, nursing Bombay Sapphires and sodas. “Which one?” Spencer murmured.
“Mr. Hugo Boss model.” Mona pointed to a dark-haired guy with a chiseled jaw. A devious look came over her face. “Want to make him lose his mind?”
“How?” Spencer asked.
“Flash him,” Mona whispered, nudging her chin at Spencer’s skirt.
Spencer demurely covered her lap. “They’ll kick us out!”
“No, they won’t.” Mona smirked. “I bet it’ll make you feel better about all your Golden Orchid stress. It’s like an instant spa treatment.”
Spencer considered it for a moment. “I’ll do it if you do it.”
Mona nodded, standing up. “On three.”
Spencer stood too. Mona cleared her throat to get their attention. Both boys’ heads swiveled over. “One…two…” Mona counted.
“Three!” Spencer cried. They pulled up their skirts fast. Spencer revealed green silk Eres boy shorts, and Mona showed off sexy, lacy black panties—definitely not the kind of thing worn by a girl who loves Razor scooters. They only held up their skirts for a moment, but it was enough. The dark-haired guy in the corner sputtered up a swallow of beer. Hugo Boss Model looked like he was going to faint. Spencer and Mona let their skirts drop and doubled over with laughter.
“Holy shit.” Mona giggled, her chest heaving. “That was awesome.”
Spencer’s heart continued to rocket in her chest. Both of the guys were still staring, slack-jawed. “Do you think anyone else saw?” she whispered.
“Who the hell cares? Like they’d really kick us out of here.”
Spencer’s cheeks warmed, flattered that Mona considered her as traffic-stopping as she was. “Now I’m really late,” she murmured. “But it was worth it.”
“Of course it was.” Mona blew her a kiss. “Promise me we’ll do this again?”
Spencer nodded and blew her a kiss back, then breezed through the main dining room. She felt better than she had in days. With Mona’s help, she’d managed to forget about A, the Golden Orchid, and Melissa for three whole minutes.
But as she walked through the parking lot, she felt a hand on her arm. “Wait.”
When Spencer turned around, she found Mona nervously spinning her diamond necklace around her neck. Her expression had morphed from one of gleeful naughtiness to something much more guarded and uncertain.
“I know you’re super-late,” Mona blurted out, “and I don’t want to bother you, but something’s happening to me, and I really need to talk to someone about it. I know we don’t know each other well, but I can’t talk to Hanna—she’s got enough problems. And everyone else would spread it around the school.”
Spencer perched on the edge of a large ceramic planter, concerned. “What is it?”
Mona looked around cautiously, as if to make sure there were no Ralph Lauren–clad golfers nearby. “I’ve been getting these…text messages,” she whispered.
Spencer lost hearing for a moment. “What did you say?”
“Text messages,” Mona repeated. “I’ve only gotten two, but they’re not really signed, so I don’t know who they’re from. They say these…these horrible things about me.” Mona bit her lip. “I’m kind of scared.”
A sparrow fluttered past and landed on a barren crab apple tree. A lawn mower rumbled to life in the distance. Spencer gaped at Mona. “Are they from…A?” she whispered.
Mona went so pale, even her freckles vanished. “H-how did you know that?”
“Because.” Spencer breathed in. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. “Hanna and I—and Aria and Emily—we’ve all been getting them too.”
17
CATS CAN FIGHT NICE, CAN’T THEY?
Wednesday afternoon, just as Hanna flopped over in her hospital bed—apparent
ly, lying too still caused bedsores, which sounded even nastier than acne—she heard a knock at her door. She almost didn’t want to answer it. She was a little sick of all her nosy visitors, especially Spencer, Aria, and Emily.
“Let’s get ready to par-tay!” someone yelled. Four boys swept inside: Noel Kahn; Mason Byers; Aria’s younger brother, Mike; and, surprise of all surprises, Sean Ackard, Hanna’s—and Aria’s, it seemed—ex-boyfriend.
“Hey, boys.” Hanna lifted the oatmeal-colored cashmere blanket Mona had brought her from home over the bottom half of her face, revealing only her eyes. Seconds later, Lucas Beattie arrived, carrying a big bouquet of flowers.
Noel glanced at Lucas, then rolled his eyes. “Over-compensating for something?”
“Huh?” Lucas’s face was nearly swallowed up by the bouquet.
Hanna didn’t get why Lucas was always visiting her. Sure, they’d been friends for like a minute last week, when Lucas took her up in his dad’s hot-air balloon and let her vent about all of her troubles. Hanna knew how much he liked her—he’d pretty much reached in, pulled out his heart, and handed it to her during their balloon ride together, but after she’d received Mona’s court dress in the mail, Hanna clearly remembered sending Lucas a nasty text confirming that she was out of his league. She considered reminding him of that now, only…Lucas had been pretty useful. He’d gone to Sephora to buy Hanna a whole bunch of new makeup, read Teen Vogue to her line by line, and cajoled the doctors into allowing him to douse the room with Bliss aromatherapy oil, just as Hanna had asked him to. She kind of liked having him around. If she weren’t so popular and fabulous, he’d probably make a great boyfriend. He was definitely cute enough—way cuter than Sean, even.
