Unbelievable (12 page)

“Since the club’s already booked…maybe we could have a welcome-back party instead?” Hanna suggested in a small, tentative voice. She crossed her other hand’s fingers under her sheets for luck, hoping Mona wouldn’t think it was a stupid idea.

Mona pursed her perfectly lined lips. “I can’t say no to a party. Especially a party for you, Han.”

Hanna’s insides sparkled. This was the best news she’d gotten all day—even better than when the nurses had permitted her to use the bathroom unattended. She wanted to leap up and give Mona an enormous, thankful, I’m-so-happy-we’re-friends-again hug, but she was attached to too many tubes. “Especially since I can’t remember your birthday party,” Hanna pointed out, pouting. “Was it awesome?”

Mona lowered her eyes, picking a fuzz ball off her sweater.

“It’s cool,” Hanna said quickly. “You can tell me it rocked. I can handle it.” She thought for a moment. “And I have a fantastic idea. Since it’s kind of close to Halloween, and since I don’t look my absolute best right now…” She waved her hands around her face. “Let’s make it a masquerade!”

“Perfect,”
Mona gushed. “Oh, Han, it’ll be amazing!”

She grabbed Mona’s hands and they started squealing together. Aria and Spencer stood there awkwardly, left out. But Hanna wasn’t about to squeal with them, too. This was something only BFFs did, and there was only one of those in Hanna’s world.

14

INTERROGATION, WITH A SIDE OF SPYING

Tuesday afternoon, after a quick yearbook meeting and an hour of field hockey drills, Spencer pulled up to her blue slate circular driveway. There was a Rosewood PD squad car sitting in her driveway next to her mother’s battleship gray Range Rover.

Spencer’s heart catapulted into her throat, as it had been doing a lot the past few days. Had it been a huge mistake to confess her guilt about Ali to Melissa? What if Melissa only said that Spencer didn’t have the killer instinct to throw her off track? What if she’d called up Wilden and told him that Spencer had done it?

Spencer thought of that night again. Her sister had had such an eerie smile on her face when she said Spencer couldn’t have murdered Ali. The words she’d chosen were odd, too—she’d said it took a very
unique
person to kill. Why hadn’t she said
crazy
or
heartless
?
Unique
made it sound special. Spencer had been so freaked out, she’d avoided Melissa ever since, feeling awkward and uncertain in her presence.

As Spencer slipped inside her front door and hung her Burberry trench coat in the hall closet, she noticed that Melissa and Ian were sitting very rigidly on the Hastingses’ living room couch, as if they were being berated in the principal’s office. Officer Wilden sat across from them, on the leather club chair. “H-hi,” Spencer sputtered, surprised.

“Oh, Spencer.” Wilden gave Spencer a nod. “I’m just talking to your sister and Ian for a moment, if you’ll excuse us.”

Spencer took a big step back. “W-what are you talking about?”

“Just a few questions about the night Alison DiLaurentis went missing,” Wilden said, his eyes on his notepad. “I’m trying to get everyone’s perspective.”

The room was silent except for the sound of the ionizer Spencer’s mother had bought after her allergist told her that dust mites gave women wrinkles. Spencer backed out of the room slowly.

“There’s a letter for you on the hall table,” Melissa called out just as Spencer rounded the corner. “Mom left it for you.”

There was indeed a stack of mail on the hall table, next to a hive-shaped terra-cotta vase that had allegedly been a gift to Spencer’s great-grandmother from Howard Hughes. Spencer’s letter was right on top, in an already-opened creamy envelope with her name handwritten across the front. Inside was an invitation on heavy cream card stock. Gold, scrolling script read,
The Golden Orchid committee invites you to a finalists’ breakfast and interview at Daniel Restaurant in New York City on Friday, October 15
.

There was a pink Post-it note affixed to the corner. Her mother had written,
Spencer, we already cleared this with your teachers. We have rooms reserved at the W for Thursday night.

Spencer pressed the paper to her face. It smelled a little like Polo cologne, or maybe that was Wilden. Her parents were actually
encouraging
her to compete, knowing what they knew? It seemed so surreal. And
wrong
.

Or…was it? She ran her finger along the invite’s embossed letters. Spencer had longed to win a Golden Orchid since third grade, and perhaps her parents recognized that. And if she hadn’t been so freaked out about Ali and A, she definitely would have been able to write her own Golden Orchid–worthy essay. So why not really go for it? She thought about what Melissa had said—her parents would reward her handsomely for winning. She
needed
a reward right now.

The living room’s grandfather clock bonged six times. Spencer guessed that Wilden was waiting to make sure she’d gone upstairs before he began his discussion. She stomped loudly up the first few stairs, then stopped halfway and marched in place to make it sound like she’d climbed the rest of the way up. She had a perfect view of Ian and Melissa through the banister spindles, but no one could see her.

“Okay.” Wilden cleared his throat. “So, back to Alison DiLaurentis.”

Melissa wrinkled her nose. “I’m still not sure what this has to do with us. You’d be better off talking to my sister.”

Spencer squeezed her eyes shut.
Here it comes
.

“Just bear with me,” Wilden said slowly. “You two
do
want to help me find Alison’s killer, don’t you?”

“Of course,” Melissa said haughtily, her face turning red.

“Good,” Wilden said. As he pulled out a black spiral-bound notebook, Spencer slowly let out her breath.

“So,” Wilden continued. “You guys were in the barn with Alison and her friends shortly before she disappeared, right?”

Melissa nodded. “They walked in on us. Spencer had asked our parents to use the barn for her sleepover. She thought I was going to Prague that night, but I was actually going the next day. We left, though. We let them have the barn.” She smiled proudly, as if she’d been oh-so charitable.

“Okay…” Wilden scribbled in his notepad. “And you didn’t see anything strange in your yard that night? Anyone lurking around, nothing like that?”

“Nothing,” Melissa said quietly. Again, Spencer felt grateful but also confused. Why wasn’t heart-of-ice Melissa ratting her out?

“And where did you go after that?” Wilden asked.

Melissa and Ian looked surprised. “We went to Melissa’s den. Right in there.” Ian pointed down the hall. “We were just…hanging out. Watching TV. I don’t know.”

“And you were together the whole night?”

Ian glanced at Melissa. “I mean, it was over four years ago, so it’s kind of hard to remember, but yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“Melissa?” Wilden asked.

Melissa flicked a tassel on one of the couch pillows. For a shimmering second, Spencer saw a look of terror cross her face. In a blink, it was gone. “We were together.”

“Okay.” Wilden looked back and forth at them, as if something bothered him. “And…Ian. Was there something going on with you and Alison?”

Ian’s face went slack. He cleared his throat. “Ali had a crush on me. I flirted with her a little, that’s all.”

Spencer rolled her jaw around, surprised. Ian, lying…to a cop? She peeked at her sister, but Melissa was staring straight ahead, a small smirk on her face.
I kind of knew Ian and Ali were together,
she’d said.

Spencer thought about the memory Hanna had brought up at the hospital earlier about the four of them going over to Ali’s house the day before she went missing. The details of the day were foggy, but Spencer remembered that they’d seen Melissa walking back to the Hastingses’ barn. Ali had yelled out to her, asking if Melissa was worried that Ian might find another girlfriend while Melissa was in Prague. Spencer had smacked Ali for the remark, warning her to shut up. Since she’d admitted to Ali and only Ali that she’d kissed Ian, Ali had been threatening to tell Melissa what Spencer had done if Spencer didn’t confess to it herself. So Spencer thought Ali’s comments were meant to mess with her, not Melissa.

That
was
what Ali was doing, wasn’t it? She wasn’t so sure anymore.

After that, Melissa had shrugged, muttered under her breath, and stormed toward the Hastingses’ barn. On her way, though, Spencer remembered her sister pausing to look at the hole the workers were digging in Ali’s backyard. It was as if she were trying to commit its dimensions to memory.

Spencer clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d received a text from A last week when she was sitting in front of her vanity mirror. It had said,
Ali’s murderer is right in front of you,
and right after Spencer read it, Melissa had appeared in her doorway to announce that the
Philadelphia Sentinel
reporter was downstairs. Melissa had been as much in front of Spencer as her own reflection had.

As Wilden shook hands with Ian and Melissa and rose to leave, Spencer scampered quietly the rest of the way up the stairs, her mind spinning. The day before she went missing, Ali had said, “You know what, guys? I think this is going to be the summer of Ali.” She had seemed so certain of it, so confident that everything would work out the way she wanted. But although Ali could boss the four of them into doing everything she said, no one, absolutely
no one,
played those kinds of games with Spencer’s sister. Because in the end, Melissa. Always. Won.

15

GUESS WHO’S BA-A-ACK?

Early Wednesday morning, Emily’s mother silently steered the minivan out of the Philadelphia Greyhound bus station parking lot, down Route 76 in the middle of morning rush hour, past the Schuylkill River’s charming row houses, and straight to Rosewood Memorial Hospital. Even though Emily was badly in need of a shower after her grueling, ten-hour bus trip, she really wanted to see how Hanna was doing.

By the time they reached the hospital, Emily began to worry that she’d made a grave mistake. She’d called her parents before getting on the bus to Philadelphia at 10
P.M
. last night, saying she’d seen them on TV, that she was okay, and that she was coming home. Her parents had
sounded
happy…but then her cell phone’s battery had died, so she didn’t really know for sure. Since Emily had gotten in the car, all her mom had said to her was, “Are you okay?” After Emily said yes, her mom told her that Hanna had woken up, and then she went mute.

Her mother pulled under the awning of the hospital’s main entrance and put the car into park. She let out a long, whinnying sigh, resting her head briefly against the steering wheel. “It scares me to death, driving in Philly.”

Emily stared at her mom, with her stiff gray hair, emerald-green cardigan, and prized pearl necklace that she wore every single day, kind of like Marge on
The Simpsons.
Emily suddenly realized that she had never seen her mother drive anywhere remotely near Philadelphia. And her mom had always been terrified about merging, even if no cars were coming. “Thanks for picking me up,” she said in a small voice.

Mrs. Fields studied Emily carefully, her lips wobbling. “We were so worried about you. The idea that we might have lost you forever really made us rethink some things. That wasn’t right, sending you to Helene’s the way we did. Emily, we might not accept the decisions you’ve made for…for your life, but we’re going to try and live with it as best we can. That’s what Dr. Phil says. Your father and I have been reading his books.”

Outside the car, a young couple wheeled a Silver Cross pram to their Porsche Cayenne. Two attractive, twenty-something black doctors shoved each other jokingly. Emily breathed in the honeysuckle air and noticed a Wawa market across the street. She was definitely in Rosewood. She hadn’t crash-landed in some other girl’s life.

“Okay,” Emily croaked. Her whole body felt itchy, especially her palms. “Well…thank you. That makes me really happy.”

Mrs. Fields reached into her purse and took out a plastic Barnes & Noble bag. She handed it to Emily. “This is for you.”

Inside was a DVD of
Finding Nemo.
Emily looked up, confused.

“Ellen DeGeneres is the voice of the funny fish,” Emily’s mother explained in a slightly
uh-duh
voice. “We thought you might like her.” Emily suddenly got it. Ellen DeGeneres was a fish—a lesbian swimmer, just like Emily.

“Thanks,” she said, clutching the DVD to her chest, oddly touched.

She tumbled out of the car and walked through the hospital’s automatic front door in a daze. As she passed by the check-in, the coffee bar, and the high-end gift shop, her mother’s words slowly sank in. Her family had
accepted her
? She wondered if she should call Maya and tell her she was back. But what would she say?
I’m home! My parents are cool now! We can date now!
It seemed so…cheesy.

Hanna’s room was on the fifth floor. When Emily pushed open the door, Aria and Spencer were already sitting next to her bed, their hands wrapped around Venti Starbucks coffees. A row of ragged black stitches stood out on Hanna’s chin, and she wore a hulking cast on her arm. There was an enormous bouquet of flowers next to her bed, and the whole room smelled like rosemary aromatherapy oil. “Hey, Hanna,” Emily said, shutting the door softly. “How are you?”

Hanna sighed, almost annoyed. “Are you here to ask me about A too?”

Emily looked at Aria, then at Spencer, who was picking nervously at her coffee cup’s cardboard sleeve. It was strange to see Aria and Spencer together—didn’t Aria suspect that Spencer had killed Ali? She raised an eyebrow at Aria, indicating as much, but Aria shook her head, mouthing,
I’ll explain later.

Emily looked back at Hanna. “Well, I wanted to see how you were, but yeah…” she started.

“Save it,” Hanna said haughtily, winding a tendril of hair around her finger. “I don’t remember what happened. So we might as well talk about something else.” Her voice wobbled with distress.