And now history seemed to be repeating itself. Would Noel’s feelings for Ali resurface now that her doppelgänger was here?
Courtney and Noel were still joking about the journalism barn, which contained a hayloft and a pig trough from the days of yore. Aria cleared her throat loudly. “Um, Noel, I had some thoughts about the Valentine’s Day dance,” she said. “Were you thinking about wearing a tux or a suit?”
Noel blinked, cut off in mid-sentence. “Uh, usually guys wear suits, I think.”
“Cool,” Aria said sweetly. She kept her eyes on Courtney the whole time, making sure Courtney understood Aria’s intent. But instead of minding her business, Courtney pointed at something in Aria’s yak-fur bag on the wood floor. “Hey! You still do that?”
Aria stared into the bag. Tucked in one of the big pockets was a tangled ball of white yarn and two wooden knitting needles. She snatched her bag from the floor and pressed it protectively to her chest. You still do that? That was a strange way to word it.
“My sister told me you knit,” Courtney explained as if reading Aria’s mind. “She even showed me a mohair bra you made for her.”
“Oh.” Aria’s voice wobbled. The room suddenly smelled pungently of permanent marker and sweat. Courtney was gazing at her innocently and intently, but Aria couldn’t smile back. What else had Ali told Courtney about Aria? That she had been a kooky, friendless loser before Ali came along? That Aria had had a pathetic, teeming crush on Noel? Maybe Ali had even told her about the time they’d caught Byron and Meredith kissing in a parking lot. Ali had loved every minute of that—it was practically the only thing she talked to Aria about in the last few weeks before she disappeared.
Aria began to tremble. It was too much to sit here and pretend all of this was normal. When her Treo, which was sitting on the desk, let out a shrill chime, she nearly jumped out of her skin. A CNN news alert flashed across the screen. BILLY FORD MIGHT HAVE ALIBI.
Coffee gurgled in Aria’s stomach. When she looked up, Courtney was staring intently at the alert, too, her eyes wide and her face pale. For a split second Courtney looked as though she wanted to rip the phone out of Aria’s hands.
But in a blink, the look was gone.
8 SOME STRIPPING, NO TEASING
As Emily rushed to her Tuesday gym class, Aria caught her arm. “Look at this.” She thrust her Treo into Emily’s face.
On the screen was a recent newscast. “A critical and surprising development has arisen in the William Ford murder trial,” a reporter’s voice blared.
The camera cut to a shot of a convenience store parking lot. “A witness in Florida says he met with Mr. Ford outside this 7-Eleven on January fifteenth, the day the Pretty Little Liars discovered Mr. Ian Thomas’s dead body in Rosewood,” the voice-over explained. “The witness wishes to remain anonymous because the meeting had to do with the purchase of illegal drugs, but if investigators can corroborate the story, this alibi might be enough to exonerate Mr. Ford of Mr. Thomas’s murder.”
Mr. Owens, the strictest of the gym teachers, passed by, and Aria quickly slipped the phone in her pocket—they weren’t supposed to use them during school hours. When he trundled around the corner, Aria played the video again. “How can this be possible?” she whispered, her face drawn. “If Billy was in Florida when Ian was killed, someone else must have taken those pictures and dug up that stuff on us as A.”
Emily chewed nervously on her lips. “It doesn’t make any sense. He’s got to be lying. Maybe he paid someone to say that.”
“With what money? He can’t even afford a lawyer,” Aria pointed out.
The two of them stood in silence for a few moments. Two guys on the wrestling team whipped past, playing some deranged version of hallway tag. The newscast ended, and the option to choose two more videos appeared on the screen. One was the report from the night Jenna was murdered. The other was about Courtney DiLaurentis. Emily stared at Courtney’s picture, grief and confusion rippling through her once again. Ali lied to us, she thought, her heart breaking for the millionth time. Ali had left Emily and the others out of a huge part of her life. It was like they had never been friends at all.
Or had she dropped some hints? Ali had been obsessed with twins, for one thing—once, when Ali and Emily went shopping alone in Ardmore, Ali told everyone that they were twins, just to see how many people would believe them. And Ali used to marvel over how similar Emily and her sister Carolyn looked. “Has anyone ever thought you guys are twins?” she asked more than once. “Do people ever mistake you for each other?”
Aria noticed Emily looking at Courtney’s picture. She touched Emily’s wrist. “Be careful.”
Emily flinched. “What are you talking about?”
Aria pursed her lips. A group of girls in cheerleading uniforms marched past, practicing the arm movements for a cheer. “She might look exactly like Ali, but she’s not her.”
Heat rushed to Emily’s face. She knew what Aria was getting at. Emily’s old friends knew about her crush on Ali—many of Emily’s notes from the original A, Mona Vanderwaal, had talked about nothing else. Aria had accused Emily of letting her heart get in the way of her head before, especially when Emily clung to the idea that Ali was still alive.
“I know she’s not Ali,” she snapped. “I’m not an idiot.” She whirled into the gym locker room without saying good-bye.
The room smelled of rubber sneakers, hair spray, and floral deodorant. A bunch of girls were already changing into their T-shirts and shorts, and the air was filled with chatter about the Valentine’s Day dance that Saturday. Emily stomped to her locker, prickly with agitation. Aria had definitely hit a nerve.
Truth be told, Emily had lain awake all last night, reliving the moment Courtney had stepped onto the podium. Even though it wasn’t Ali, Emily’s heart had lifted when Courtney gave her that alluring wink. It had been thrilling to sit in the DiLaurentises’ new kitchen, too, right across from this achingly beautiful, hauntingly familiar girl. Emily had dreamed about Ali for years; how could she not feel something for her identical twin?
And what did Aria mean, be careful? There was no reason to distrust Courtney—she’d been as much a victim in this as Emily and the others were. Courtney was lucky to have narrowly escaped the fire in the woods. Billy was obviously trying to kill her, too, just like he was trying to kill Emily, Aria, and the others.
But what if the newscast was right? What if Billy hadn’t killed Ian or set that fire…or done anything else?
“Ahem.”
Emily jolted up, the white T-shirt and blue shorts she’d pulled from her gym locker slipping from her hands. A blond girl with a heart-shaped face was sitting on one of the wooden benches at the end of the aisle. “Oh!” Emily cried, clapping her hand over her mouth. It was as if Courtney had appeared just because Emily had been thinking about her.
“Hi.” Courtney was dressed in a snug-fitting Rosewood Day blazer, a white button-down, and a blue plaid skirt. Her school-issued blue socks were tight and even, stopping right below her pretty, diamond-shaped kneecaps. She stared at the gym clothes in Emily’s arms. “I didn’t know we were supposed to bring shorts and stuff.”
“Yeah.” Emily lifted her T-shirt by the collar. “You can get gym clothes at the school store.” She cocked her head. “Mr. Draznowsky didn’t tell you that?” Mr. Draznowsky was their gym teacher.