Cassie made a sympathetic face, then said good-bye. Ali shot out of the car and darted toward the door, relieved when Cassie pulled away from the curb. But just as she was twisting the knob, she heard voices inside.
“I didn’t mean anything by it,” her sister wailed.
“You should know better!” her mother answered sternly.
Ali’s skin prickled. What had happened? And then, suddenly, she heard different voices, this time from the backyard. “Why would she be in trouble?” someone whispered. “She didn’t do anything wrong.”
Ali drew away from the door. Was that . . . Emily?
“Not that we know of,” another familiar voice said. Ali almost choked on her gum. Spencer.
Her mind swirled. She hadn’t invited them over. What were they doing here? Had her sister invited them? Or—worse—her mother, wanting Ali to break the news?
They could not know. If they did, what if they slowly figured out the rest of it—that Ali wasn’t who she said she was? Maybe they’d always secretly wondered about Ali abruptly taking them on as friends. Dropping Naomi and Riley without explanation. That time Ali had gotten lost in Rosewood Day at the beginning of sixth grade. Maybe it was all cataloged in their brains, little niggling puzzle pieces that didn’t quite make up a whole picture. With the introduction of a twin, it would. And if her parents figured out, they’d send her to the Preserve to punish her.
She stood on the front porch, terrified to go around the side and face the music. Suddenly, there was a loud slam. Her mother’s voice keened out from the patio. “I just want to make sure you have the dimensions right,” she yelled toward the workers in the back.
Ali stepped off the porch and tiptoed into the side yard just as her mother barreled across the back toward the gazebo workers, who were sitting around, seemingly doing nothing. “I’m not paying you to loaf,” Mrs. DiLaurentis snapped, hands on hips. “Can’t this get done any faster?”
One of the workers raised one shoulder. “We’re waiting for the concrete to dry.”
“When is this hole going to be filled?” Ali’s mother demanded. “Tomorrow?”
The same worker shook his head, his floppy hair bouncing. “Friday. That’s the earliest we could get the truck.”
Mrs. DiLaurentis rolled her eyes and continued to chastise them. Ali took another step closer, her friends coming into view. They were all there, sitting on the back patio, looking nonplussed. Blessedly, Courtney wasn’t with them. So maybe they didn’t know.
She took a deep breath and climbed up the patio stairs.
“Uh . . . hi?” she said.
Spencer stood up. A big, nervous smile spread across Emily’s face. Aria stared at Ali impassively, and Hanna squirmed in her seat. They looked guilty, and Ali’s fears rushed to the surface once more.
“What did she bust you for?” Spencer demanded.
Ali cocked her head, not sure if she should answer.
“Are you getting in trouble without us?” Aria went on, her light, easy tone of voice forced. “And why did you change? That halter you had on was so cute.”
Ali blinked hard. Halter. Her sister had worn a halter the day before. Perhaps she’d put it on this morning, too, as it was probably the cutest thing she owned.
Her knees went weak. They had seen her twin . . . maybe even talked to them, but it wasn’t because of their mother. Where had she been? In the house? Outside?
But then it hit Ali. She bet she knew exactly where they’d seen her sister. Ali’s room.
That bitch, she thought, fury rising in her body like mercury inside a thermometer. How dare she! Was this phase one of her master plan? Was she trying to pass herself off as Ali and try to switch back? What was even worse was that her friends had believed that “Courtney” was Ali. If her sister could convince them, she could convince anyone.
Emily cleared her throat, bringing Ali back to herself. “Do you want us to . . . go?”
Ali shook her head quickly, realizing she had no idea what sorts of expressions had just crossed her face. “Of course I don’t want you to go,” she mustered, trying to regain control. “My mom was mad at me because I . . . I threw my hockey clothes in with her delicates again.” She rolled her eyes. “But don’t worry, girls—I’m not grounded or anything. Our sleepover extravaganza can proceed as planned!”
The girls looked relieved, though something still seemed to hang over them. For a moment, Ali worried if they were looking at her and realizing there was something different about her, something they hadn’t seen in the girl in the striped halter just moments ago. But then Spencer added that she had exciting news: They could have their sleepover in the Hastingses’ backyard barn after all. Unexpectedly, Melissa was going to Prague Thursday night after graduation, so they would have the place to themselves.
“Sweet,” Ali said loudly, hoping that Courtney, wherever she was, heard. She wasn’t going to let her sister get in the way of her fun. Let her try to switch. It was never going to happen.
Suddenly, she noticed a flash of blue across the Hastingses’ yard. Melissa was on her way to the barn, her gown swinging from a hanger in her hand. She’d already slung the school’s valedictorian mantle over her shoulders. Show-off.
Suddenly, Ali had to make everyone see how powerful she was, how crushing she could be. She wasn’t sure if it was for her friends’ benefit, exactly . . . or for the girl watching from within the house.
Ali stood up. “Hey, Melissa!”
Melissa stopped and turned around. “Oh. Hey, guys.”
“Excited to go to Prague?” Ali smiled sweetly. “Is Ian going?”
Spencer reached across the table and dug her nails into Ali’s arm. “Ali.”
“No,” Melissa answered after a pause. “Ian’s not.”
“Oh!” Ali heard her own voice say. “Are you sure that’s a good idea—leaving him alone? He might get another girlfriend!”
She gave Spencer a meaningful glance. “Alison. Stop it. Now.”
But Ali couldn’t stop.
“Spencer?” Aria asked. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” Spencer said quickly.
Ali watched as the other girls exchanged an uncertain look. But none of them said anything. Then, Melissa adjusted the mantle around her neck and strode toward the barn. She glanced long and hard at the hole in Ali’s yard but said nothing.
Spencer glared at Ali after Melissa was gone, but Ali didn’t reply. She barely got through the rest of the visit, and when the girls left, she sprinted back into the house and made a beeline for her bedroom. Everything was in its place. Next she found her mother, who was standing at the sink, washing a few glasses.
“Did you let my friends in when I wasn’t here?” she demanded.
Mrs. DiLaurentis wheeled around, looking guilty. “Honey, I thought you were home. But then I saw you pull up with your field hockey friend and realized my mistake.”
Ali’s body started to shake. “So they talked to her?”
“Well, yes. But then I grabbed her.”
“Were they in my room?”
Mrs. DiLaurentis’s gaze fell to her feet. “She’s just curious. The therapist explained everything to us: She hasn’t lived a normal life. We’ve deprived her of that. Think of yourself as a role model.”
The words hurt: It was her they were really talking about, her they thought was still in the hospital, rotting away, becoming weirder and more feral by the day. “Where is she?” Ali said, her voice low and tense.