Perfect (18 page)

Spencer crinkled her brow. “Yolanda Hensler?”

“That’s right.”

“Melissa was never Yolanda’s—” Spencer stopped herself. She was about to say that Melissa was never Yolanda Hensler’s friend. Yolanda was the type of girl who was sweetie-pie around adults but a bossy terror in private. Spencer knew that Yolanda had once forced Melissa to go through every knowledge bowl sample question without stopping, even though Melissa told her a zillion times that she had to pee. Melissa had ended up peeing in her pants, and it seeped all over Yolanda’s Lilly Pulitzer comforter.

“Anyway, a week later, your fever broke,” her mother said. “But when you woke up, you’d forgotten the whole thing ever happened. You remembered going to the Franklin Institute, and you remembered walking through the heart, but then I asked if you remembered the mean man in the city. And you said, ‘What mean man?’ You couldn’t remember the ER, having tests run, being sick, anything. You just…erased it. We watched you the rest of that summer, too. We were afraid you might get sick again. Melissa and I had to miss our mother-daughter kayak camp in Colorado and that big piano recital in New York City, but I think she understood.”

Spencer’s heart was racing. “Why hasn’t anyone ever told me this?”

Her mother looked at her dad. “The whole thing was so strange. I thought it might upset you, knowing you’d missed a whole week. You were such a worrier after that.”

Spencer gripped the edge of the table.
I might have missed more than a week of my life,
she wanted to say to her parents.
What if it wasn’t my only blackout?

She shut her eyes. All she could hear was that
crack
from her memory. What if she had blacked out before Ali disappeared? What had she missed that night?

By the time Pooh set down their steaming plates, Spencer was shaking. Her mother cocked her head. “Spencer? What’s wrong?” She swiveled her head to Spencer’s father. “I knew we shouldn’t have told her.”

“Spencer?” Mr. Hastings waved his hands in front of Spencer’s face. “You okay?”

Spencer’s lips felt numb, as if they’d been injected with novocaine. “I’m afraid.”

“Afraid?” her father repeated, leaning forward. “Of what?”

Spencer blinked. She felt like she was having the recurring dream where she knew what she wanted to say in her head, but instead of words coming out of her mouth, out came a shell. Or a worm. Or a plume of purple, chalky smoke. Then she clamped her mouth closed. She’d suddenly realized the answer she was looking for—what she feared.

Herself.

22

THERE’S NO PLACE LIKE ROSEWOOD—FROM 3,000 FEET UP

Friday morning, Hanna stepped out of Lucas’s maroon Volkswagen Jetta. They were in the parking lot of Ridley Creek State Park, and the sun was barely up.

“This is my big surprise that’s supposed to make me feel all better?” She looked around. Ridley Creek Park was full of undulating gardens and hiking trails. She watched as a bunch of girls in running shorts and long-sleeved T-shirts passed. Then a bunch of guys on bikes in colorful spandex shorts rode by. It made Hanna feel lazy and fat. Here it was, not even 6
A.M
., and these people were virtuously burning off calories. They probably hadn’t binged on a whole box of cheddar-flavored goldfish crackers last night, either.

“I can’t tell you,” Lucas answered. “Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Hanna groaned. The air smelled like burning leaves, which Hanna always found spooky. As she crunched through the parking lot gravel, she thought she heard snickering. She whipped back around, alert.

“Something wrong?” Lucas said, stopping a few paces away.

Hanna pointed at the trees. “Do you see someone?”

Lucas shaded his eyes with his hand. “You worried about that stalker?”

“Something like that.”

Anxiety gnawed at her belly. When they’d driven here in semi-darkness, Hanna felt like a car had been following them. A? Hanna couldn’t stop thinking about the bizarre text from yesterday about Mona going to Bill Beach for plastic surgery. In some ways, it made sense—Mona never wore anything that revealed too much skin, even though she was way thinner than Hanna was. But plastic surgery—anything but a boob job, anyway—was kind of…embarrassing. It meant genetics were against you, and you couldn’t exercise your way down to your ideal body. If Hanna spread that rumor about Mona, her popularity quotient might sink a few notches. Hanna would have done it to another girl without batting an eye…but to Mona? Hurting her felt different.

“I think we’re okay,” Lucas said, walking toward the pebbly path. “They say the stalker only spies on people in their houses.”

Hanna rubbed her eyes nervously. For once, she didn’t need to worry about smudging her mascara. She’d put on next to no makeup this morning. And she was wearing Juicy velour pants and a gray hoodie she often wore to run laps around the track. This was all to show they were
not
on some queer early morning date.

When Lucas showed up at the door, Hanna was relieved to find that he was wearing ratty jeans, a scruffy tee, and a similar gray hoodie. Then he’d flopped into a leaf pile on their way to the car and squirmed around like Hanna’s miniature Doberman, Dot. It was actually kind of cute. Which was totally different from thinking that Lucas was cute, obviously.

They entered a clearing and Lucas turned around. “Ready for your surprise?”

“This better be good.” Hanna rolled her eyes. “I could still be in bed.”

Lucas led her through the trees. In the clearing was a rainbow-striped hot air balloon. It was limp and lying on its side, with the basket part tipped over. A couple of guys stood around it as fans blew air up into the balloon, making it ripple.

“Ta-daaa!” Lucas cried.

“Okaaay.” Hanna shaded her eyes with her hand. “I’m going to watch them blow up a balloon?” She
knew
this wasn’t a good idea. Lucas was so lame.

“Not quite.” Lucas leaned back on his heels. “You’re going
up
in it.”

“What?” Hanna shrieked. “By
myself
?”

Lucas knocked her upside the head. “I’m going with you, duh.” He started walking toward the balloon. “I have a license to fly hot air balloons. I’m learning to fly a Cessna, too. But my biggest accomplishment is this.” He held up a stainless steel carafe. “I made smoothies for us this morning. It was the first time I’d used the blender—the first time I’ve used a kitchen appliance at all, actually. Aren’t you proud of me?”

Hanna smirked. Sean had always cooked for her, which always made Hanna feel more inadequate than pampered. She liked that Lucas was boyishly clueless.

“I am proud.” Hanna smiled. “And sure, I’ll go up in that deathtrap with you.”

After the balloon got fat and taut, Hanna and Lucas climbed in the basket and Lucas shot a long plume of fire up into the envelope. In seconds, they started to rise. Hanna was surprised her stomach didn’t lurch as it sometimes did on an elevator, and when she looked down, she was amazed to see that the two guys who had helped inflate the balloon were tiny specks on the grass. She saw Lucas’s red Jetta in the parking lot…then the fishing creek, then the winding running path, then Route 352.

“There’s the Hollis spire!” Hanna cried excitedly, pointing at it off in the distance.

“Cool, huh?” Lucas smiled.

“It
is
,” Hanna admitted. It was so nice and quiet up here. There were no traffic sounds, no annoying birds, just the sound of wind. Best of all, A wasn’t up here. Hanna felt so free. Part of her wanted to fly away in a balloon for good, like the Wizard of Oz.

They flew over the Old Hollis neighborhood, with its Victorian houses and messy front lawns. Then the King James Mall, its parking lot nearly empty. Hanna smiled when they passed the Quaker boarding school. It had an avant-garde obelisk on the front lawn that was nicknamed William Penn’s Penis.

They floated over Alison DiLaurentis’s old house. From up here, it seemed so untroubled. Next to that was Spencer’s house, with its windmill, stables, barn, and rock-lined pool. A few houses down was Mona’s, a beautiful redbrick bordered by a grove of cherry trees with a garage off to the side of the yard. Once, right after their makeovers, they’d painted
HM + MV = BBBBBFF
in reflective paint on the roof. They never knew what it actually looked like from above. She reached for her BlackBerry to text Mona the news.

Then she remembered. They weren’t friends anymore. She sucked in a breath.

“You all right?” Lucas asked.

She looked away. “Yeah. Fine.”

Lucas’s eyebrows made a V. “I’m in the Supernatural Club at school. We practice mind reading. I can ESP it out of you.” He shut his eyes and put his hands to his temples. “You’re upset because of…how Mona’s having a birthday party without you.”

Hanna suppressed a snort. Like that was hard to figure out. Lucas had been in the bathroom right after it happened. She unscrewed the top to the smoothie carafe. “Why are you in, like, every Rosewood Day club imaginable?” He was like a dorkier version of Spencer in that way.

Lucas opened his eyes. They were such a clear, light blue—like the cornflower crayon from the 64-Crayola box. “I like being busy all the time. If I’m not doing anything, I start thinking.”

“About what?”

Lucas’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. “My older brother tried to kill himself a year ago.”

Hanna widened her eyes.

“He has bipolar disorder. He stopped taking his medication and…something went wrong in his head. He took a whole bunch of aspirin, and I found him passed out in our living room. He’s at a psychiatric hospital now. They have him on all these medications and…he’s not really the same person anymore, so…”

“Did he go to Rosewood Day?” Hanna asked.

“Yeah, but he’s six years older than us. You probably wouldn’t remember him.”

“God. I’m so sorry,” Hanna whispered. “That sucks.”

Lucas shrugged. “A lot of people would probably just sit in their room and get stoned, but keeping busy works better for me.”

Hanna crossed her arms over her chest. “My way of staying sane is to eat a ton of cheese-based snacks and then throw them up.”

She covered her mouth. She couldn’t believe she just said that.

Lucas raised an eyebrow. “Cheese-based snacks, huh? Like Cheez-Its? Doritos?”

“Uh-huh.” Hanna stared at the balloon basket’s wooden bottom.

Lucas’s fingers fidgeted. His hands were strong and well proportioned and looked like they could give really great back rubs. All of a sudden, Hanna wanted to touch them. “My cousin had that…problem…too,” Lucas said softly. “She got over it.”

“How?”

“She got happy. She moved away.”

Hanna stared over the basket. They were flying over Cheswold, Rosewood’s wealthiest housing development. Hanna had always wanted to live in a Cheswold house, and up here, the estates looked even more amazing than they did at street level. But they also looked stiff and formal and not quite real—more like an
idea
of a house instead of something you’d actually want to live in.

“I used to be happy,” Hanna sighed. “I hadn’t done…the cheese thing…in years. But my life’s been awful lately. I
am
upset about Mona. But there’s more. It’s everything. Ever since I got that first note, things have gone from bad to worse.”

“Rewind.” Lucas leaned back. “Note?”

Hanna paused. She hadn’t meant to mention A. “Just these notes I’ve been getting. Someone’s teasing me with all this personal stuff.” She peeked at Lucas, hoping he wasn’t interested—most boys wouldn’t be. Unfortunately, he looked worried.

“That sounds mean.” Lucas furrowed his brow. “Who’s sending them?”

“Don’t know. At first, I thought it was Alison DiLaurentis.” She paused, pushing the hair out of her eyes. “I know that’s moronic, but the first notes talked about this thing that only she knew.”

Lucas made a disgusted face. “Alison’s body was found, what, a month ago? Someone’s impersonating her? That’s…that’s freaky.”

Hanna waved her arms. “No, I started getting the notes before Ali’s body was found, so no one knew she was dead yet….” Her head started to hurt. “It’s confusing and…don’t worry about it. Forget I said anything.”

Lucas looked at her uneasily. “Maybe you should call the cops.”

Hanna sniffed. “Whoever it is isn’t breaking any laws.”

“You don’t know who you’re dealing with, though,” Lucas said.

“It’s probably some dumb kid.”

Lucas paused. “Don’t the cops say that if you’re being harassed, like getting prank calls, it’s most likely from someone you know? I saw that on a crime show once.”

A chill went through Hanna. She thought of A’s note—
One of your old friends is hiding something from you. Something big
. She thought again about Spencer. Once, not long after Ali vanished, Spencer’s dad had taken the four of them to Wildwater Kingdom, a water park not too far from their house. As Hanna and Spencer were climbing the steps to the Devil’s Drop, Hanna had asked her if she and Ali were mad at each other about something.

Spencer’s face had turned the exact shade of her merlot-colored Tommy Hilfiger string bikini. “Why are you asking that?”

Hanna frowned, holding her foamy raft to her chest. “I was just curious.”

Spencer stepped closer. The air became very still, and all splashing and squealing sounds seemed to evaporate. “I wasn’t mad at Ali. She was mad at me. I have no clue why, okay?” Then she did a 180 and started marching back down the wooden staircase, practically knocking over other kids as she went.

Hanna curled her toes. She hadn’t thought of that day in a while.

Lucas cleared his throat. “What are the notes about? The cheese thing?”

Hanna stared at the skylights on top of the Rosewood Abbey, the site of Ali’s memorial.
Screw it,
she thought. She’d told Lucas about A—why not everything else? It was like that trust exercise she’d done on her sixth-grade camping trip: a girl in her bunk named Viviana Rogers had stood behind her and Hanna had to fall into her arms, having faith that she would catch Hanna instead of letting her clunk to the grass.