CHAPTER 4 – NEVER TRUST SOMEONE FROM CALIFORNIA
“Why didn’t you go to the Hastingses
Jason, who had purple circles under his eyes as though he’d
gotten no sleep, turned up the college channel on SiriusXM. “I didn’t feel like
it.”
“Half of your class was there,” Ali argued. “It was a lot of
fun.” After she and Spencer had made up, they’d danced with cute upperclassmen
for the rest of the night. Several guys had asked for her number, not that she’d
given it to them. She still felt like there was something sketchy about dating
someone that much older.
“I wasn’t in the mood.” Jason shot her a look. “And I don’t like
that you went.”
Ali scoffed. “Melissa didn’t care that Spencer was hanging out.”
Jason flinched. “It’s not like I’d jump off a bridge if Melissa
did it first.”
Ali crossed and uncrossed her legs. You would have a year ago,
she wanted to blurt. But she doubted Jason had confessed his crush on Melissa
to the real Alison.
She looked at Jason. “Do you think Mom and Dad are really
stressed about sending you to college?” She gasped. “What if they’re broke?”
Jason snorted. “They’re not broke. I don’t think that’s what
they’re worried about, either.”
“But they said…” Ali trailed off, thinking of her parents’ weird
behavior at dinner. “Do you think they lied?”
Jason hit the breaks hard behind a Mercedes coupe, not
answering.
Ali ran her fingers up and down the seat belt strap. “What if
they’re talking about getting a divorce?”
Jason twisted his mouth. “I don’t think---“
“It makes sense. They’re never together anymore. And all that
talk at dinner about telling us something---it’s probably that, don’t you
think?” She pushed her string bracelet around her wrist. “I’m not surprised,
really. Having a daughter like Courtney must really take a toll on a marriage.”
The name Courtney hung in the air like a bad smell. Ali rarely
said her real name out loud, and definitely never to Jason. He breathed out
steadily and evenly, his expression giving away nothing. “Maybe,” he finally
said.
They pulled down the long, tree-lined drive to Rosewood Day. The
stone-and-brick school rose up before them, giving Ali the same tingles she’d
felt the very first time she’d come here in sixth grade. This is what I was
missing, she’d thought as she’d smoothed her hands over her blazer. I am so
going to rock this place.
And she had, of course. Everyone already knew her and bowed down
to her. Oh, there had been challenges on the first day: getting lost on her way
to gym, confusing Devon Arliss and Dara Artz---luckily they were just thrilled she
was speaking to them at all---and flirting with Andrew Campbell, only to
realize he was one of the nerdiest kids in school. A few people had given her
strange looks when she’d sat down inside the cafeteria---apparently all the
cool kids sat outside---but she’d played most things off with panache and ease.
The very next day, though, she carried around her sister’s old diary, which she’d
begun writing in herself, as a cheat sheet to Ali’s life.
Jason swung past the lower and middle schools and headed for the
parking lot at the back, where all the upperclassmen parked. People spilled out
of cars and talked boisterously. Ali bolted out the door as soon as Jason
rolled into a space, and looked around for Cassie and her other hockey
teammates. But then she pied someone else. Hanna stood at the far end of the
parking lot with a tall, thin, dark-haired girl she didn’t recognize.
“Ali!” Hanna waved her hands above her head. “Over here!”
Ali strutted over, squinting at the girl. She was
pretty---really pretty---and looked like she was at least a freshman. She was
carrying an emerald-green fringe bag with a Marc Jacobs logo on the clasp. Ali
wanted to think it was a knockoff, but it looked way too nice.
“Ali, this is Josie.” There were two bright pink spots on Hanna’s
cheeks. “And Josie, this is Alison DiLaurentis.”
“Nice to meet you.” Josie stuck out her hand to shake. Her nails
were painted a dove gray Ali had never seen before. She didn’t even know gray
was a popular color, but it looked utterly chic. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“Everyone has,” Ali said primly. “But I’ve heard nothing about
you.”
“Josie’s family just moved here from Los
Angeles
“It’s so lame that they decided to move in May.” Josie rolled
her eyes. “Couldn’t they have waited until summer? I wasn’t even able to go to
my ninth-grade dance, and the hottest guy had asked me. And I had a friend who
had tickets to the Teen Choice Awards, so I couldn’t go to that, either.”
“Oh, my God. I would love to go to the Teen Choice Awards!” Hanna
breathed.
Ali’s head was spinning. Los
Angeles
Hanna brightened. “I met her yesterday at Otter?”
“What’s that?” Ali asked. “A pet store?”
Small, pitying smiles appeared on both Hanna’s and Josie’s
faces. “Otter is the new boutique at the mall,” Josie said. My dad owns it. I’m
working there after school a few days a week.”
“It’s the best store, Ali,” Hanna gushed. “People from the
Sentinel’s style section were even there when I went in. They said they might
do a write-up!”
“We’re having an opening-week sale---you should stop by,” Josie
said, stepping out of the way as a battered Volvo gunned its way up the lot.
Then she nudged Hanna. “Remember that fight those girls got into over that pair
of Citizens jeans?”
Hanna looked at Ali. “You would have loved it. These two girls
spotted a pair of skinnies they both wanted at the same time and got into a
fight in the dressing area.”
“That’s how amazing the jeans were,” Josie added.
Ali cleared her throat. “And how did you find out about this store,
Hanna?”
“I read about it online.” Hanna suddenly looked panicked. “I
thought you knew about it, Ali. I would have said something.”
“Since when do you go to King James alone?” Ali said in a voice
that might sound to anyone else like teasing but she knew would put Hanna on
edge. “I thought we always texted each other if we were going.” She didn’t bother
to bring up that she had been at the King James yesterday, too. But that didn’t
count---she’d been with her parents.
“She wasn’t there for very long,” Josie said cautiously, giving
Ali a strange look.
“It’s a personal best-friends thing,” Ali said tightly. Then she
looked at Hanna again. This whole situation was wrong. Since when was Hanna receiving
invites to boutique openings and not telling her about them? And since when was
a pretty, older girl from Los Angeles
Ali sniffed the air. “Um, Hanna?” She glanced down at Hanna’s
banana-yellow Marc Jacobs wedges. “I think you have dog poop on your shoe.”
Hanna paled. “Oh my God.” She scuttled over to the curb and furiously
scraped her heel against the concrete.
Ali gave Josie an apologetic look. “We just can’t take Hanna
anywhere. One time, when we were in Philly together, she literally fell off the
curb into a mud puddle!”
Josie’s lips twitched, but she didn’t laugh. She pulled her bag
up her shoulder. “Actually, I should probably go. I still don’t really know my
way around this place yet.”
“You’re leaving?” Hanna asked, returning from the curb.
“We’ll talk soon, okay?” Josie practically fled from them, her
ponytail bouncing as she ran down the hill. When she got to the door, a few pretty
girls said hello to her, and she smiled back.
Hanna slumped miserably. Ali threaded her arm through her elbow.
“I’m sorry, Han. People can get pretty grossed out by dog poop, though.”
Hanna pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. “There actually wasn’t
any dog poop on my shoe. I checked.”
“Really?” Ali asked innocently. She grabbed her hand and
squeezed it hard. “I swore I smelled something, Han! My bad!”
Hanna’s brow furrowed, perhaps sensing what Ali was up to. Hanna
was smarter than Ali sometimes gave her credit for---she picked up on
manipulative behavior much faster than the others did. If Ali ever stepped
aside---not that that would ever happen----and if Hanna made herself over, she’d
probably make a decent queen bee herself.
But Hanna said nothing. Ali clutched her arm once again. “Besides,
I’ve heard that everyone from California
She had Ali, after all, and Ali was all that mattered.
Chapter 5 – THOSE SUMMER ROMANCES ARE ALWAYS THE BEST…
“Bring it in, ladies!” Ali’s field hockey coach, Mrs. Schultz,
called as the two scrimmaging teams jogged in front of the field. Even though
the season was long over, Mrs. Schultz liked to get the girls together to
practice every once in a while to stay in shape for the next year. Ali tramped toward
the bleachers. The scent of fresh-cut grass tickled here nostrils, and as she
got closer, she saw that Mrs. Schultz was setting out a big jug of
fruit-punch-flavored Gatorade, her favorite.
“You girls play great defense,” Mrs. Schultz said when Ali and
Cassie reached the stands. “You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with next
fall.”
Cassie nudged Ali. “You’re going to be an MVP even before you’re
a freshman.”
“That’s because I’m awesome!” Ali chirped, forming her arms into
a V. But deep down, she couldn’t even believe she’d made the team. She’d barely
walked the grounds at the Radley, much less ran field hockey drills, but as
soon as she heard that the high school team was opening up JV tryouts to two
outstanding junior high players---Ali and Spencer---she’d made it her goal to
make the cut. When her family later visited the hospital and “Courtney” found
out that Ali had made the high school team, “Courtney’s” face had paled. Who’s
the better Alison now? Ali had wanted to yell at her.
Ali grabbed a plastic cup from the stack and poured herself some
Gatorade. Then she changed her shirt, threw her gear into her bag, and said
good-bye to Cassie and the others, and started toward the auxiliary parking
lot, where Jason was supposed to be waiting to pick her up. Only a Honda Civic,
a random school bus, and the rent-a-cop’s Ford were parked there, the driver’s
seats empty.
She sat on the edge of the fountain to wait. Two cheerleaders
whose names Ali didn’t remember flounced out of the upper school and headed to
their cars. An eighth grader who was always on the morning video announcements
stood near the flagpole, talking on her cell phone. And standing by the doors
to the gym were Naomi Zeigler and Riley Wolfe. They looked up and stared at her
at the same time, then quickly turned away.
Ali’s stomach flipped. It had been a year and a half since she’d
ditched Naomi and Riley without an explanation, but she still felt uneasy in
their presence. At first, the two girls had begged Ali’s forgiveness for
whatever they’d done---they just wanted to be friends again. They offered to do
Ali’s homework for a year. Whatever clothes in their closets she liked, she
could have. They mentioned a place called the Purple Room and something called
Skippies, which was exactly why Ali had dropped them---she didn’t know what
they were talking about. They would have sniffed her out as the Fake Ali so
fast she would have been locked up at the Preserve in no time.
Her phone chimed, and she jumped. It was a text from Aria: Want
to come over tomorrow night? My parents are going on a date, Liquor cabinet,
here we come!
Yes and yes! Ali typed back.
She pushed her phone back into her pocket. Suddenly, she felt
eyes on her back again, and goose bumps rose on her skin. Was it Naomi and
Riley? But when she turned, it was a boy about her age, standing there where
the trees met the parking lot. She had no idea where he’d come from, and he was
staring at her so intensely that Ali worried he could see into her thoughts.
“It’s Alison, isn’t it?” he called out as he moved closer.
Ali squinted. The boy was tall and lanky, built like the guys
who swam butterfly on Emily’s year-round competitive swim team. He wore a
fitted black T-shirt, slim-cut seersucker shorts, and laceless canvas sneakers.
His brown hair stood up in spiky peaks, and his eyes were an even more
arresting shade of blue than hers. They had to be colored contacts.
“Alison?” he repeated when he was closer. His voice was gravelly
and deep.
“Uh, yeah,” she said slowly, pushing her hair behind her ear. “And
you are…?”
He looked astonished. “You don’t remember me?”
Ali blinked. It has been a long time since she couldn’t answer a
question as her sister, and it made her feel dizzy, unmoored, and transparent. “Refresh
my memory,” she said, hating her words.
“It’s Nick Maxwell.” He sat on the edge of the fountain and
placed his hands on his knees, which were tanned and had just the tiniest bit
of dark hair on them. “From Camp Ravenswood.”
That explained why Ali had no idea who she was. Her sister had
gone to that camp the summer after fifth grade, a few months before the switch.
“Of course!” she said brightly, hoping she sounded convincing, that dizzy
feeling not going away. “How are you?”
Nick chuckled. “You have forgotten me. I guess you write stuff
about guys on cabin walls all the time?”
“I…” It felt like Ali had been plopped into a foreign country
without any knowledge of the language. She’d memorized her sister’s journals
word for word, and there’d been no mention of anyone named Nick in her diary.
Maybe she’d worried her parents would read it and kept him a secret.
Nick ducked his head. “I’m sorry----you probably didn’t know
that I saw what you wrote.” He drummed his fingers on the concrete. “The
counselors made me wash it off. I think they thought I made you write it or
something.” His gaze returned to her, and he smiled appreciatively. “Maybe I should
have paid more attention to you back then, though. You’ve really grown up.”
“You should have paid more attention,” Ali repeated, the pieces
slowly coming together. Had Ali written something desperate on a wall about a
boy who she’d had an unrequited crush on? Had this guy actually said no?
She stood up and hiked her field hockey skirt higher on her
thighs. All of a sudden, she really, really wanted Nick to like her. Imagine
telling that to her sister in the hospital. She’d have a brain aneurysm.
“So what did you think about what I wrote?” she cooed
flirtatiously.
Nick’s eyes sparkled. “Well, it was really flattering,
obviously. It’s not every day a guy reads a message about how good of a kisser
he is----especially when a girl he’d never kissed wrote it. I was wondering how
you could tell.”
“Oh, I’ve always had a good sense of how people will kiss by
just looking at them,” Ali said, eyeing his lips. They were pink and
bow-shaped.
“Really?” Nick grinned.
“Yep.”
They remained that way for a moment, grinning at each other.
Then Ali reached for her camera. “Can I take a photo of you?”
“Only if I can get your phone number in return,” Nick said.
Ali snapped a photo, then wrote down her cell number on a piece of
paper ripped from her math notebook. Then Nick took off, saying only “See you
around, cutie.” As he tilted away from her, Ali felt unsettled. Why hadn’t he
asked her to do something? He didn’t want her yet in the way that he should.
She thought of how she’d learned to hypnotize people recently, a game Matt’s
older sister had taught her one afternoon. Count down from one hundred, touch
someone on the forehead, and they say they’re in your power. Ali wished she
could try it out right now and make Nick ask her on a date.
Then she saw a familiar figure cut across the hockey field. It
was Ian Thomas, dressed in khaki pants and a Kelly-green polo. He looked like a
cross between a frat boy and a golfer, but a hot guy was a hot guy. Maybe there
was another way to get Nick in her power.
She put herself in his path. And, like any good pawn, Ian grinned
when he spotted her. “Hey, Ali” he called, waving.
Ali blew him a kiss, and he teasingly blew one back. She didn’t
even need to turn around to know that Nick had stopped and was staring.
Maybe she was a better hypnotist than she thought.
