Spencer shook her head. “I would’ve heard about it already.” It was as much an honor to be selected to hide a piece of the Time Capsule flag as it was to find one, and Spencer’s sister, Melissa, never failed to brag about her Rosewood Day responsibilities—especially when her family played Star Power, the game where they went around the table describing their most ambitious accomplishment of the day.
The school’s heavy double doors opened, and the remaining sixth-graders spilled out, including a group of kids that seemed to have walked right out of a page of a J. Crew catalogue. Aria returned to the stone wall and pretended to be busy sketching. She didn’t want to make eye contact with any of them again—a few days ago, Naomi Zeigler had caught her staring and cawed, “What, are you in love with us?” These were the sixth-grade elite, after all—or, as Aria called them, the Typical Rosewoods.
Every single one of the Typical Rosewoods lived in gated mansions, multi-acre-spanning compounds, or luxurious converted barns with horse stables and ten-car garages. They were such cookie cutters: the boys played soccer and had ultra-short haircuts; the girls had the exact same laughs, wore matching shades of Laura Mercier lip plumper, and carried Dooney & Bourke logo bags. If Aria squinted, she couldn’t tell one Typical Rosewood from another.
Except for Alison DiLaurentis. No one mistook Alison for anyone else, ever.
And it was Alison leading the crowd down the school’s stone path, her blond hair streaming behind her, her sapphire blue eyes sparkling, her ankles steady in her three-inch platforms. Naomi Zeigler and Riley Wolfe, her two closest confidantes, followed her, hanging on her every move. People had been bowing down to Ali ever since she’d moved to Rosewood in third grade.
Ali approached Emily and the other swimmers and stopped short. Emily was afraid Ali was going to tease them all about their dry, greenish-tinted, chlorine-damaged hair—again—but Ali’s attention was elsewhere. A sneaky smile crept over her face as she read the flyer. With a quick flip of her wrist, she tore the paper off the wall and spun around to face her friends.
“My brother’s hiding one of the pieces of the flag tonight,” she said, loud enough for everyone else in the commons to hear. “He already promised to tell me where it is.”
Everyone began to murmur. Hanna nodded with awe—she admired Ali even more than the older cheerleaders. Spencer, on the other hand, seethed. Ali’s brother wasn’t supposed to tell her where he was hiding his Time Capsule piece. That was cheating! Aria’s charcoal crayon flew furiously over her sketchbook, her eyes fixed on Ali’s heart-shaped face. And Emily’s nose tickled with the lingering vanilla scent of Ali’s perfume—it was as heavenly as standing in the doorway of a bakery.
The older students began to descend the high school’s majestic stone steps across the commons, interrupting Ali’s big announcement. Tall, aloof girls and preppy, handsome guys ambled past the sixth-graders, heading for their cars in the auxiliary lot. Ali watched them coolly, fanning her face with the Time Capsule flyer. A couple of puny sophomores, white iPod headphones dangling from their ears, looked downright intimidated by Ali as they unlocked their ten-speeds from the rack. Naomi and Riley snorted at them.
Then a tall blond junior noticed Ali and stopped. “What up, Al?”
“Nothing.” Ali pursed her lips and stood up straighter. “What’s up with you, Eee?”
Scott Chin elbowed Hanna, and Hanna blushed. With his tanned, gorgeous face, curly blond hair, and stunning, soulful hazel eyes, Ian Thomas—Eee—was second on Hanna’s All-Time Hottie list, just under Sean Ackard, the boy she’d crushed on since they were on the same kickball team in third grade. It was unclear how Ian and Ali knew one another, but the gossip said upperclassmen invited Ali to their A-list parties, despite the fact that she was a lot younger.
Ian leaned against the bike racks. “Did I hear you saying you know where a piece of the Time Capsule flag is?”
Ali’s cheeks pinkened. “Why, is someone jealous?” She shot him a saucy grin.
Ian shook his head. “I’d keep it down, if I were you. Someone might try and steal your piece from you. It’s part of the game, you know.”
Ali laughed, as if the idea was incomprehensible, but a wrinkle formed between her eyes. Ian was right—stealing someone’s piece of the flag was perfectly legal, etched in the Time Capsule Official Rule Book that Principal Appleton kept in a locked drawer of his desk. Last year, a ninth-grade goth boy had stolen a piece that was dangling out of a senior crew member’s gear bag. Two years ago, an eighth-grade band girl had snuck into the school’s dance studio and stolen two pieces from two beautiful, thin ballerinas. The Stealing Clause, as it was known, leveled the playing field even more—if you weren’t smart enough to figure out the clues that would allow you to find the pieces, then maybe you were cunning enough to snag one from someone’s locker.
Spencer gazed at Ali’s perturbed expression, a thought slowly forming in her mind. I should steal Ali’s piece of the flag. More than likely, everyone else in sixth grade would simply let Ali find the piece completely unfairly, and no one would dare to take it away from her. Spencer was tired of Ali getting everything handed to her so easily.
The same idea formed in Emily’s mind. Imagine if I stole it from Ali, she thought, shuddering with an unidentifiable emotion. What would she say to Ali if she trapped her alone?
Could I steal it from Ali? Hanna bit an already nubby fingernail. Only…she’d never stolen anything in her life. If she did, would Ali invite Hanna into her circle?
How awesome would it be to steal it from Ali? Aria thought too, her hand still moving over her sketchbook. Imagine, a Typical Rosewood dethroned…by someone like Aria. Poor Ali would have to go searching for another piece by actually reading the clues and using her brain for once.
“I’m not worried,” Ali broke the silence. “No one would dare steal it from me. Once I get the piece, it’s going to be on me at all times.” She gave Ian a suggestive wink, and with a flip of her skirt, she added, “The only way someone is going to get it from me is if they kill me first.”
Ian leaned forward. “Well, if that’s what it takes.”
A muscle under Ali’s eye twitched, and her skin paled. Naomi Zeigler’s smile wilted. There was a chilly grimace on Ian’s face, but then he flashed an irresistible I’m just kidding smile.
Someone coughed, making Ian and Ali look over. Ali’s brother, Jason, was walking straight up to Ian from the high school steps. His mouth tight and his shoulders hunched, Jason looked like he had overheard.
“What did you just say?” Jason stopped less than a few feet from Ian’s face. A crisp wind blew a few stray golden hairs up off his forehead.
Ian rocked back and forth in his black Vans. “Nothing. We were just fooling around.”
Jason’s eyes darkened. “You sure about that?”
“Jason!” Ali hissed, indignant. She stepped between them. “What’s up your butt?”
Jason glared at Ali, then at the Time Capsule flyer in her hand, then back at Ian. The rest of the crowd exchanged confused glances, not sure whether this was a fake fight or something more serious. Ian and Jason were the same age, and both played varsity soccer. Maybe this was a pissing contest because Ian had stolen Jason’s opportunity for a goal in yesterday’s game against Pritchard Prep.
When Ian didn’t answer, Jason smacked his arms to his sides. “Fine. Whatever.” He wheeled around, stomped to a black, late-sixties sedan that had pulled into the bus lane, and slumped in the passenger seat. “Just go,” he said to the driver as he slammed the car door. The car sputtered to life, coughed up a cloud of noxious-smelling exhaust, and squealed away from the curb. Ian shrugged and sauntered away, grinning victoriously.