Emily stiffened. “Have they been saying stuff to you again?”
“Easy there, Killer,” Alison said. The others giggled. Sometimes they called Emily “Killer,” as in Ali’s personal pit bull. Emily used to find it funny, too, but lately she wasn’t laughing along.
The barn was just ahead. It was small and cozy and had a big window that looked out on Spencer’s large, rambling farm, which had its very own windmill. Here in Rosewood, Pennsylvania, a little suburb about twenty miles from Philadelphia, you were more likely to live in a twenty-five-room farmhouse with a mosaic-tiled pool and hot tub, like Spencer’s house, than in a prefab McMansion. Rosewood smelled like lilacs and mown grass in the summer and clean snow and wood stoves in the winter. It was full of lush, tall pines, acres of rustic family-run farms, and the cutest foxes and bunnies. It had fabulous shopping and Colonial-era estates and parks for birthday, graduation, and just-’cause-we-feel-like-it fêtes. And Rosewood boys were gorgeous in that glowing, healthy, just-stepped-out-of-an-Abercrombie-catalog way. This was Philadelphia’s Main Line. It was full of old, noble bloodlines, older money, and practically ancient scandals.
As they reached the barn, the girls heard giggles coming from inside. Someone squealed, “I said, stop it!”
“Oh God,” Spencer moaned. “What is she doing here?”
As Spencer peeked through the keyhole, she could see Melissa, her prim and proper, excellent-at-everything older sister, and Ian Thomas, her tasty boyfriend, wrestling on the couch. Spencer kicked at the door with the heel of her shoe, forcing it open. The barn smelled like moss and slightly burned popcorn. Melissa turned around.
“What the fu—?” she asked. Then she noticed the others and smiled. “Oh, hey guys.”
The girls eyed Spencer. She constantly complained that Melissa was a venomous super-bitch, so they were always taken aback when Melissa seemed friendly and sweet.
Ian stood up, stretched, and grinned at Spencer. “Hey.”
“Hi, Ian,” Spencer replied in a much brighter voice. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Yeah you did.” Ian smiled flirtatiously. “You were spying on us.”
Melissa readjusted her long blond hair and black silk headband, staring at her sister. “So, what’s up?” she asked, a little accusingly.
“It’s just…I didn’t mean to barge in…,” Spencer sputtered. “But we were supposed to have this place tonight.”
Ian playfully hit Spencer on the arm. “I was just messing with you,” he teased.
A patch of red crept up her neck. Ian had messy blond hair, sleepy-looking hazelnut-colored eyes, and totally gropeworthy stomach muscles.
“Wow,” Ali said in a too-loud voice. All heads turned to her. “Melissa, you and Ian make the kuh-yoo-test couple. I’ve never told you, but I’ve always thought it. Don’t you agree, Spence?”
Spencer blinked. “Um,” she said quietly.
Melissa stared at Ali for a second, perplexed, and then turned back to Ian. “Can I talk to you outside?”
Ian downed his Corona as the girls watched. They only ever drank super-secretively from the bottles in their parents’ liquor cabinets. He set the empty bottle down and offered them a parting grin as he followed Melissa outside. “Adieu, ladies.” He winked before closing the door behind him.
Alison dusted her hands together. “Another problem solved by Ali D. Are you going to thank me now, Spence?”
Spencer didn’t answer. She was too busy looking out the barn’s front window. Lightning bugs had begun to light up the purplish sky.
Hanna walked over to the abandoned popcorn bowl and took a big handful. “Ian’s so hot. He’s, like, hotter than Sean.” Sean Ackard was one of the cutest guys in their grade and the subject of Hanna’s constant fantasies.
“You know what I heard?” Ali asked, flopping down on the couch. “Sean really likes girls who have good appetites.”
Hanna brightened. “Really?”
“No.” Alison snorted.
Hanna slowly dropped the handful of popcorn back into the bowl.
“So, girls,” Ali said. “I know the perfect thing we can do.”
“I hope we’re not streaking again.” Emily giggled. They’d done that a month earlier—in the freezing frickin’ cold—and although Hanna had refused to strip down to less than her undershirt and day-of-the-week panties, the rest of them had run through a nearby barren cornfield without a lick on.
“You loved that a little too much,” Ali murmured. The smile faded from Emily’s lips. “But no—I was leaving this for the last day of school. I learned how to hypnotize people.”
“Hypnotize?” Spencer repeated.
“Matt’s sister taught me,” Ali answered, looking at the framed photos of Melissa and Ian on the mantel. Her boyfriend of the week, Matt, had the same sandy-colored hair as Ian.
“How do you do it?” Hanna asked.
“Sorry, she swore me to secrecy,” Ali said, turning back around. “You want to see if it works?”
Aria frowned, taking a seat on a lavender floor pillow. “I don’t know….”
“Why not?” Ali’s eyes flickered to a stuffed pig puppet that was peeking out of Aria’s purple sweater-knit tote bag. Aria was always carrying around weird things—stuffed animals, random pages torn out of old novels, postcards of places she’d never visited.
“Doesn’t hypnosis make you say stuff you don’t want to say?” Aria asked.
“Is there something you can’t tell us?” Ali responded. “And why do you still bring that pig puppet everywhere?” She pointed at it.
Aria shrugged and pulled the stuffed pig out of her bag. “My dad got me Pigtunia in Germany. She advises me on my love life.” She stuck her hand into the puppet.
“You’re shoving your hand up its butt!” Ali squealed and Emily started to giggle. “Besides, why do you want to carry around something your dad gave you?”
“It’s not funny,” Aria snapped, whipping her head around to face Emily.
Everyone was quiet for a few seconds, and the girls looked blankly at one another. This had been happening a lot lately: Someone—usually Ali—mentioned something, and someone else got upset, but everyone was too shy to ask what in the world was going on.
Spencer broke the silence. “Being hypnotized, um, does sound sort of sketch.”
“You don’t know anything about it,” Alison said quickly. “C’mon. I could do it to you all at once.”
Spencer picked at the waistband of her skirt. Emily blew air through her teeth. Aria and Hanna exchanged a look. Ali was always coming up with stuff for them to try—last summer, it was smoking dandelion seeds to see if they’d hallucinate, and this past fall they’d gone swimming in Pecks Pond, even though a dead body was once discovered there—but the thing was, they often didn’t want to do the things that Alison made them do. They all loved Ali to death, but they sometimes hated her too—for bossing them around and for the spell she’d cast on them. Sometimes in Ali’s presence, they didn’t feel real, exactly. They felt kind of like dolls, with Ali arranging their every move. Each of them wished that, just once, she had the strength to tell Ali no.
“Puh-leeeeeze?” Ali asked. “Emily, you want to do it, right?”
“Um…” Emily’s voice quivered. “Well…”
“I’ll do it,” Hanna butted in.
“Me too,” Emily said quickly after.
Spencer and Aria reluctantly nodded. Satisfied, Alison shut off all the lights with a snap and lit several sweetly scented vanilla votive candles that were on the coffee table. Then she stood back and hummed.