Flawless (30 page)

“Jesus,” Aria whispered. “So Jenna must’ve been
happy
Toby was sent away.”

Emily had no idea how to respond. She turned to look at Jenna, who was standing across the lawn with her mom, talking to a reporter. What must that have felt like, having your stepbrother do that to you? It had been bad enough when Ben went at her—what if she had to live with him? What if he was part of her family?

But it tore her up inside, too. Doing that to your stepsister was horrible, but it was also…pathetic. Of course Toby had just wanted to get past it now, to get on with his life. And he had been…until Emily scared him into thinking it was all coming back to haunt him.

She felt so horrified, she covered her face with her hands and took huge, gulping breaths.
I ruined Toby’s life,
she thought.
I killed him
.

Her friends let her cry for a while—they were all crying, too. When Emily was reduced to dry, shuddering sobs, she looked up. “I just can’t believe it.”

“I can.” Hanna said. “Ali only cared about herself. She was the queen of manipulation.”

Emily looked at her, surprised. Hanna shrugged. “My seventh-grade secret? The one only Ali knew? Ali tortured me with it. Any time I didn’t go along with something she wanted me to do, Ali threatened to tell you guys—and everyone else.”

“She did that to you, too?” Aria sounded surprised. “There were times when she’d say something about my secret that made it so…
obvious
.” She lowered her eyes. “Before Toby…took those pills, he outed that secret about me. The secret Ali knew, and the one A—
Toby
—was threatening me about.”

Everyone sat up straighter. “What was it?” Hanna asked.

“It was…just this family thing.” Aria’s lip trembled. “I can’t talk about it now.”

Everyone was quiet for a while, thinking. Emily stared at the birds fluttering in and out of her dad’s feeder. “It makes perfect sense that Toby was A,” Hanna whispered. “He didn’t kill Ali, but he still wanted revenge.”

Spencer shrugged. “I hope you’re right.”

It was calm and bright back inside Emily’s house. Her parents weren’t home yet, but Carolyn had just made microwave popcorn, and the whole house smelled like it. To Emily, microwave popcorn always smelled better than it tasted, and despite her lack of appetite, her stomach growled. She thought,
Toby will never smell microwave popcorn again.

Neither would Ali.

She glanced through her bedroom window toward the front yard. Just hours ago, Toby had been standing there, pleading with Emily not to tell the cops. And to think, what he’d meant was
Please don’t tell them what I did to Jenna.

Emily thought about Ali again. How Ali had lied to them about everything.

The funny but sad thing about all of it was that Emily was pretty sure she’d started loving Ali the night of Jenna’s accident, after the ambulances left and Ali came back inside. Ali was so calm and protective, so self-assured and wonderful. Emily had been freaking out, but Ali was there to make her feel better.

“It’s all right,” Ali had cooed to her, scratching Emily’s back, her fingers making large, slow circles. “I promise you. It’ll be okay. You have to believe me.”

“But how can it be okay?” Emily sobbed. “How do you know?”

“Because I just do.”

Then Ali took Emily and laid her down on the couch, propping Emily’s head in her lap. Ali’s hands began to softly rake her scalp. It felt spookily good. So good, Emily forgot where she was, or how scared she felt. Instead, she was…transported.

Ali’s movements got slower and slower, and Emily began to fall asleep. What happened next, Emily would never forget. Ali bent down and kissed Emily’s cheek. Emily froze, jolted awake. Ali did it again. It felt so good. She sat back up and started scratching Emily’s head again. Emily’s heart beat madly.

The rational part of Emily’s brain put the incident out of her mind, figuring Ali had meant it in a comforting way. But the emotional part of her let the feeling bloom like the tiny capsules her parents put in her Christmas stocking that slowly formed big, spongy shapes in hot water. That was when Emily’s love for Ali took hold, and without that night, maybe it never would have happened at all.

Emily sat down on her bed, staring abstractly out the window. She felt empty, like someone had scooped her insides right out like a jack-o’-lantern.

Her room was very quiet; the only sound was of the ceiling fan’s blades whapping around. Emily opened the top drawer of her desk and found a pair of old left-handed scissors. She placed the blades between the strings of the bracelet Ali had made for her so many years ago, and in one swift chop, she cut it off. She didn’t quite want to throw the bracelet away, but she didn’t want to leave it on the floor where she could see it, either. In the end, she pushed it far under her bed with the edge of her foot.

“Ali,” she whispered, tears running down her face.
“Why?”

A buzzing across the room startled her. Emily had hung the pink bag Jenna returned to her on her bedroom doorknob. She could see her phone glowing through its thin fabric. Slowly, she got up and retrieved her purse. By the time she pulled her phone out, it had stopped ringing.

ONE NEW TEXT MESSAGE
, her little Nokia said. Emily felt her heart speed up.

Poor, confused Emily. I bet you could use a big warm girl hug right now, huh? Don’t get too comfortable. It’s not over until I say it is. —A

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

There are a lot of people to thank for
Flawless.
First and foremost, the Alloy Entertainment crew, for all of their hard work and perseverance to make these books great: the inimitable Josh Bank, who can harness his inner teenage girl better than anyone I know. Ben Schrank, whose editorial guidance and oddly witty banter I will sorely miss. Les Morgenstein, for his “Eureka!” plot ideas…and because he buys us cookies. And last but not least, thanks to my editor, Sara Shandler, who can talk about dogs for hours, who makes great parrot noises, and who is a big reason this book makes sense.

My appreciation also to the extraordinary people at HarperCollins: Elise Howard, Kristin Marang, Farrin Jacobs, and the rest of the Harper team. All of your unflagging enthusiasm for the Pretty Little Liars series has been wonderful.

As always, thanks and love to Bob and Mindy Shepard, for teaching me at a young age that the most important things in life are to be silly, to be happy with what you do, and to always write fake information on restaurant comment cards. You’re lovely parents and always have been—combining only the good qualities of Emily’s, Spencer’s, Aria’s, and Hanna’s. Thanks to Ali and to Ali’s demonic, striped, I-love-to-bite cat, Polo. Kisses to Grammar, Pavlov, Kitten, Sparrow, Chloe, Rover, Zelda, Riley, and Harriet. I’m so happy to have my cousin Colleen around, because she throws great parties, has friends who read my books, and comes up with the best drinking games. And, as usual, all of my love to Joel for, among other things, scratching my back, dealing with me when I make no sense, eating icing out of the can, and watching catty, girly shows on TV with me and even discussing them afterward.

I’d also like to acknowledge my late grandfather, Charles Vent. He was sort of my inspiration for Hanna—he had a little habit of “taking things without paying for them.” But seriously, he was one of the most loving and creative people I was lucky enough to know, and I always thought he deserved a little bit of fame, even if it’s in the acknowledgments page of a book.

WHAT HAPPENS NEXT…

Did you really believe I was Toby? Puh-lease. I would have killed myself too. I mean, honestly—ew. He totally had it coming. Karma’s a bitch, and so am I—just ask Aria, Emily, Hanna, and Spencer….

Let’s start with Aria. The girl’s so busy getting busy, I can barely keep track of her boyfriends. First Ezra, now Sean, and I have more than a sneaking suspicion she’s not done with Ezra yet. That’s the irritating thing about arty girls; they can never make up their minds. I guess I’ll just have to help little Aria out and make the choice for her. I’m sure she’s just going to loooove that.

Then there’s Emily. Sweet, clueless Emily. Alison and Toby would probably say that kissing Emily is pretty much the kiss of death. But…oops…they can’t say anything—they’re dead. I guess Em should watch where she puts her poisonous little lips. She’s two for two, and superstitious Emily knows better than anyone that bad things always happen in threes.

Lonely wittle Hannakins. Sean dumped her. Her dad dumped her. And her mom probably would if she could. Being unpopular kinda makes you want to throw up, huh? Or is that just Hanna? At least she has her BFF, Mona, to hold her hair back. Wait a second, no she doesn’t. I wish I could tell you it couldn’t get any worse for Hanna, but no one likes a liar. Least of all me.

Finally, there’s Spencer: Sure, the little overachiever knows her SAT words by heart, but her memory’s kinda fuzzy when it comes to the night Alison disappeared. Don’t worry, she’s about to get a refresher course courtesy of yours truly. Look at me—so eleemosynary! That’s SAT for “nice”!

If you were as smart as me, you’d probably have figured out who I am by now. OMG, not being a genius must be so annoying. And I can’t help you with that one—I’ve got my hands full with four pretty little liars at the moment. But since you’ve been so patient, I’ll give you one hint: Spencer may have a 4.0, but I’ve got As to my name, too. Kisses! —A

Credits

Produced by Alloy Entertainment
151 West 26th Street, New York, Ny 10001
Hand Lettering by Peter Horridge
Photography by Ali Smith
Doll design by Tina Amantula
Cover design by Jennifer Heuer

Excerpt from The Lying Game

PROLOGUE

I woke up in a dingy claw-foot bathtub in an unfamiliar pink-tiled bathroom. A stack of
Maxim
s sat next to the toilet, green toothpaste globbed in the sink, and white drips streaked the mirror. The window showed a dark sky and a full moon. What day of the week was it? Where was I? A frat house at the U of A? Someone’s apartment? I could barely remember that my name was Sutton Mercer, or that I lived in the foothills of Tucson, Arizona. Had someone slipped me something?

“Emma?” a guy’s voice called from another room. “You home?”

“I’m busy!” called a voice close by.

A tall, thin girl opened the bathroom door, her tangled dark hair hanging in her face. “Hey!” I leapt to my feet. “Someone’s in here already!” My body felt tingly, as if it had fallen asleep. When I looked down, it seemed like I was flickering on and off, like I was under a strobe light.
Freaky. Someone definitely slipped me something.

The girl didn’t seem to hear me. She stumbled forward, her face covered in shadows.

“Hel
lo
?” I cried, climbing out of the tub. She didn’t look over. “Are you deaf?” Nothing. She pumped a bottle of lavender-scented lotion and rubbed it on her arms.

The door flung open again, and a snub-nosed, unshaven teenage guy burst in. “Oh.” His gaze flew to the girl’s tight-fitting T-shirt, which said new york new york roller coaster on the front. “I didn’t know you were in here, Emma.”

“That’s maybe why the door was
closed
?” Emma pushed him out and slammed it shut. She turned back to the mirror. I stood right behind her. “Hey!” I cried again.

Finally, she looked up. My eyes darted to the mirror to meet her gaze. But when I looked into the glass, I screamed.

Because Emma looked exactly like me.

And I wasn’t there.

Emma turned and walked out of the bathroom, and I followed as if something was yanking me along behind her. Who was this girl? Why did we look the same? Why was I invisible? And why couldn’t I remember, well,
anything
? The wrong memories snapped into aching, nostalgic focus—the glittering sunset over the Catalinas, the smell of the lemon trees in my backyard in the morning, the feel of cashmere slippers on my toes. But other things, the most important things, had become muffled and fuzzy, as if I’d lived my whole life underwater. I saw vague shapes, but I couldn’t make out what they were. I couldn’t remember what I’d done for any summer vacations, who my first kiss had been with, or what it felt like to feel the sun on my face or dance to my favorite song. What
was
my favorite song? And even worse, every second that passed, things got fuzzier and fuzzier. Like they were disappearing.