Ali's Pretty Little Lies (11 page)

“I saw her come out after you,” Jason said, as if reading her mind. “Was everything okay?”

Ali flicked the string bracelet on her wrist. “It was fine. We just talked about stupid stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

Ali blinked. “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

“I don’t know.” Jason raised his hands defensively. “I’m just asking.”

Ali licked her lips and considered telling him how the real Ali had threatened her, but then her words echoed in her mind.
Please don’t lock me up again
, she’d said, basically admitting everything she’d done.

Jason stopped at a crosswalk to let students pass. “Do you think Courtney seems different?”

Ali flinched. “Different how?”

“Happier, I guess. Not herself.”

There was a sizzling feeling in the pit of Ali’s stomach. “Does anyone know who Courtney really is? She’s crazy.”

“
I
know who she is.”

No, you don’t
, Ali thought with a flare of anger.
You don’t know anything.

Jason pulled into a parking space in front of Kinko’s. “I know you’ve never understood why I visited her all those years at the Radley,” he said quietly. “I just thought she needed someone in her corner, you know?”

“So why did you stop visiting her at the Preserve?” It was a question Ali had never asked him.

Jason ran his finger over the silver BMW keychain. “I didn’t mean to stop visiting her at first. I was just swamped with schoolwork and couldn’t make the time. The times I did visit her, though, she seemed so . . .
strange
.” He swallowed hard, then glanced at her. “She told me some weird things about you.”

Ali’s stomach tightened. “She’s a jealous, crazy bitch.”

Jason didn’t look convinced. “For a while, I thought some of the things she told me were true.”

Ali tried hard to keep her hands from trembling. “She’s lying.”

Jason opened his mouth, then closed it again. He stared at her hard, as though trying to memorize every freckle, every eyelash on her face. “Do you ever wish you could go back and change what you did?”

The words hit Ali like an icicle through the heart.
What you did.
But he meant what
Ali
did . . . to
Courtney.
Right? Not the switch. “I didn’t do anything,” she snapped.

Jason kept his eyes on the road. “We
all
did things we could have done differently. We could have helped her. Been more of a family.”

“That’s not how I see it,” Ali said sharply. “She’s crazy. She needs to be locked up. End of story.”

Jason bit his bottom lip and didn’t say anything. After a moment, he got out of the car and slouched into Kinko’s. Ali watched the door open and shut, her stomach turning over. The walls seemed to close in on her inside the car, and she suddenly felt squeezed into a seat that could no longer contain her.

She fumbled for the door handle and staggered onto the street. Cars and trucks whizzed past the busy thoroughfare. Students rushed by holding Starbucks coffee cups and textbooks. The clock tower let out four bongs. Ali took a few careful steps down the sidewalk, trying to find her balance again.

She walked to the end of the block and studied the skater-logo stickers someone had plastered to a stop sign. Then, a lilting giggle sounded from around the corner. Ali turned and cocked her ear. There it was again. It was coming from the alley.

She poked her head into the narrow strip of road between two university buildings.
THESE SPACES RESERVED FOR ART HISTORY DEPARTMENT FACULTY ONLY
read a placard in front of a parking spot. A Subaru was in the lot, its window cracked, two people inside. One of them had a blond ponytail and an earnest, college-girl smile. The other, the driver, had a craggy face and wild, professor-style hair.

Ali straightened up, recognizing the familiar
PLANNED PARENTHOOD
and
VISUALIZE WHIRLED PEAS
stickers on the Subaru’s bumper. There was that dent in the fender, too, the one Aria’s mom had made when she’d run over a decorative boulder in Ali’s front yard.

It was Aria’s dad who was in that car. But the other, the ponytail girl, was definitely
not
his wife.

“I love these after-class study sessions,” he was saying.

“Me, too,” the girl said, then pouted. “But I hate having to squeeze them into Tuesdays at four.”

Mr. Montgomery touched her cheek. “This is the only time we’re both around.”

The girl sighed. “I know, I know, but . . .”

Mr. Montgomery put his finger to his lips to silence her. Then he cupped her chin and brought her face toward his. Ali crept behind the brick wall as Aria’s father ran his hands through the girl’s hair. The girl pulled Aria’s dad closer and kissed his neck.

“Ali?”

The two heads shot apart. Ali whirled around. Jason stood behind her, a plastic Kinko’s bag in his hand. “You ready?” he asked.

Ali blinked hard. There was a rumbling sound behind her. “Uh . . . ,” she said, poking her head back into the alley.

But it was empty now. All that remained was a cloud of exhaust, like Mr. Montgomery’s car—and what he’d done inside it—had never been there at all.

But Ali knew what she’d seen.

13

DR. ALISON, AT YOUR SERVICE

Ali stepped up to Hanna’s front door and rang the bell. The opening strains to Beethoven’s Fifth played, then all was quiet. Ali knew Hanna was home, though. She’d texted Ali only a few minutes ago.

Ali turned around and stared at Hanna’s huge, elegantly manicured front yard. Ali had always liked Hanna’s house the best because it stood alone on a secluded street on top of Mount Kale, which was just outside Rosewood. It was heavily wooded and didn’t have that everyone-in-everyone’s-business suburban feeling that Ali’s neighborhood or other neighborhoods in Rosewood did. Often, when she slept over here, she’d see deer on Hanna’s front lawn in the morning, and it was dark enough up on the mountain to see tons of stars at night.

Hanna flung the door open. Her brown hair was mussed around her face, her eyes were red behind her glasses, and there were bright-orange Doritos crumbs on her shirt. Ali glanced behind her to a bunch of wrappers on the coffee table. Ho Hos. Twinkies. There was an empty cheese popcorn bag on the floor. A single pastry sat on a plate, bathing in a pool of cream.

Ali stared fixedly at those crumbs. For a long time, she’d wondered why Hanna ate the way she did, stuffing huge portions of Doritos into her mouth as though Frito-Lay had announced it was never making them again. She used to lead her friends in making fun of her—
It’s not a race, Hanna
, and
Watch out, your teeth will turn orange.
That was before they went to Annapolis a few months ago, though, and she saw what Hanna did with Kate’s toothbrush.

“Hey,” Hanna said woodenly, letting Ali in and tapping the keys of the burglar alarm, which was beeping. Whenever Hanna’s mom wasn’t home—which was always, since she worked at a high-powered job in the city—she made Hanna keep the alarm on at all times.

“What’s wrong?” Ali asked.

“Nothing,” Hanna said, not meeting Ali’s gaze. Then she looked down at the Doberman coffee mug in her hands, her expression a twist of pain and sadness. Her father used to use that cup, but Mr. Marin had moved out months ago.

“Did you talk to Aria?” Ali asked.

“No . . .” Hanna’s head whipped up. “Why? Is something going on with her?”

Ali ran her tongue over her teeth. All she could think about since it had happened was what she’d seen Aria’s dad doing in Hollis. Did Aria know? Was that why she was acting so strange lately? She hadn’t told Ali what was going on, but what if she’d told one of the others? Hanna would be a good choice—her parents had divorced last year.

But Hanna looked genuinely caught off guard, so Ali figured Aria hadn’t told her. Maybe she shouldn’t say anything. It was one thing for Ali to talk about an open secret behind Aria’s back, but maybe it was another to tell Hanna something she didn’t already know. Besides, it made Ali feel powerful to know something so awful about Aria’s family.

“Um, forget it,” Ali mumbled. “But you’re obviously not okay. What’s going on?”

Hanna slumped down in a chair at the dining room table. The place settings had been shoved aside, and her history book was splayed open to the chapter they were being tested on tomorrow. She let out a tortured sigh. “My dad sent me vacation photos of him, Kate, and Isabel on spring break.”

Ali blinked, waiting for Hanna to go on. Isabel was her father’s new girlfriend, and Kate was her pretty daughter. Ali had met them both in Annapolis.

She was about to ask Hanna what the big deal was, but suddenly, she remembered she was being the New Ali, the girl who killed her friends with kindness. Kate was definitely a sore spot for Hanna. Although Hanna rarely mentioned it, Mr. Marin had left for Annapolis and given Hanna’s mom custody of their daughter. It was surprising because Hanna and her dad always used to be such a team before he left. They’d sing Beatles songs in the front seat during carpools, trying to get the other girls to join in. No matter how many times Ali told Hanna she was being babyish, they still brought up some imaginary friend named Cornelius Maximilian at dinner. And one time, when Hanna’s dad had taken Hanna and Ali to the beach for the day, it seemed like Hanna wanted to hang out with him instead of sneaking off to the boardwalk with Ali to talk to boys.
Weirdo.

Mr. Marin was so different from Ali’s own dad, who put on a suit every day and went to work and talked to his family during meals but otherwise retreated to his office. Even though Ali would never, ever tell Hanna so, she’d felt a little relieved when Hanna’s dad took off. Hanna no longer had that special, sparkly thing in her life that Ali secretly, deep down, envied.

Now Hanna was worried that Kate had taken her place. Ali had offered to come with her to Annapolis, promising that they’d outclass Kate and make her feel small and stupid. The only thing was, once they’d gotten there, something in Ali had shifted. Kate seemed sort of . . .
nice
, a lot like her, in fact. Maybe Hanna needed to suck it up. But instead, Hanna
ate
it up—all the party snacks Isabel had put out for them, that was. Ali had never seen her shovel food in so compulsively, yet Hanna had seemed surprised when her father called her a “little piggy.” When Ali had followed Hanna to the bathroom and pushed open the door, she’d found Hanna hunched over the toilet bowl, a green toothbrush in her hand. Hanna had begged Ali not to tell anyone, and so far, Ali hadn’t.

She touched Hanna’s hand. “It really hurts to see all of them on vacation together, huh?”

A look of shock passed over Hanna’s features, followed by gratitude. “Sort of,” she breathed. “And, I mean, you’ve seen Kate.”

Ali nodded. “She was really nice, though, Han.”

Hanna looked pained. “Maybe she was, I don’t know. But Kate’s wearing one of those bikinis that goes up her butt. It’s not like my dad would let
me
wear one of those.”

It’s not like you’d look good in one of those, either
, Ali thought, but she didn’t dare say it. Kate was thin, the kind of girl who could expose a bit of butt cheek and drive boys wild. While Hanna wasn’t fat, she wasn’t the type of girl who could pluck a pair of jeans off the rack and buy them without trying them on. And she was painfully aware of it, too—always pinching the excess flesh on her belly, always looking around at the other girls in the locker room enviously, always the last to pull off her shirt at the country club or on the beach.

Ali’s gaze drifted to the food detritus on the coffee table. “Bingeing isn’t the answer, Han.”

Hanna shook her head vigorously. “
No
. I only did that once, Ali. I swear. Some of this was left over from my mom last night.”

Ali crossed her arms over her chest. It was such a lie—Hanna’s mom was stick-thin, did yoga religiously, and ate a macrobiotic diet. “You can tell me, Han. You’ve gone through a lot lately. Cassie was telling me about a friend who binged—she did it to regain control.”

Hanna turned away and started fiddling with her pen. “I’m fine, Ali. I don’t have a problem.”

Ali felt annoyance rise inside her. Wasn’t she good enough to confide in? She held Hanna’s gaze, waiting for her to admit the truth, but Hanna just flicked the tassels on her loafers. Ali dropped her hand. “Fine,” Ali said briskly. “You don’t have a problem.”

“You didn’t tell anyone about Annapolis, did you?” Hanna asked suddenly.

A mysterious smile spread across Ali’s lips. She waited a few beats, watching as panic flooded Hanna’s face. Then she squeezed Hanna’s hand hard. “Of course I didn’t, silly. My lips are sealed—I promise.”

Ali’s phone rang. She broke her gaze from Hanna and reached for it in her bag.
Unknown Caller
, said the screen. Ali frowned. She answered, pressing the phone to her ear.

All she could hear was breathing on the other end. “Hello?” Ali said again. “Hel
lo
?”

Hanna lowered her brow, watching Ali carefully. Ali turned away, her heart speeding up. All at once, she had a horrible feeling who the person on the other end might be.

“Hello?” she said once more, wandering into the hall. More breathing. “Is this you?” she whispered, picturing her sister sitting on one of those ugly Preserve couches, smiling into the receiver. But patients at the Preserve weren’t allowed to make phone calls, right? Had they changed the rules? Or was she out on one of her “chaperoned” visits?

There was a little sniff on the other end of the line, followed by a
click.
Ali stared at the call time flashing on the screen until her vision blurred.

“Ali?”

She jumped and whirled around. Hanna stood at the end of the hall, a crumpled-up chip bag in her hands. “Is everything okay?” she asked. “Who was that?”

Ali stared down at her phone, worried for a brief flash that Hanna might know everything. Then she straightened up and pushed her hair over her shoulder. “Just a stupid prank call,” she said breezily. “Probably some kid who has a crush on me.”