venerable tradition entirely. What would the donors think?
Mike sat up straighter, spying the sign. “ Nice . I have the perfect idea of how to decorate it.” He rubbed his palms together eagerly.
Aria rolled her eyes. “Are you going to draw unicorns on it? Write a poem about your bromance with Noel?”
Mike raised his nose in the air. “It’s way better than that. But if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He waved to Noel Kahn, who was climbing out of James Freed’s Hummer, and dashed out of the car without saying good-bye.
Aria sighed, peering again at the Time Capsule sign. In sixth grade, the first year Aria had been able to play, Time Capsule had been a huge deal. But when Aria, Spencer, and the others had sneaked into Ali’s yard hoping to steal her piece, everything had gone so wrong. Aria pictured the shoe box at the back of her closet. She hadn’t been brave enough to look inside it for years. Maybe Ali’s piece of the flag had decomposed by now, just like her body.
“Ms. Montgomery?”
Aria jumped. A dark-haired woman with a microphone stood outside her car. Behind her was a guy holding a TV camera.
The woman’s eyes lit up when she saw Aria’s face. “Ms. Montgomery!” she cried, banging on Aria’s window. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
Aria gritted her teeth, feeling like a monkey in a zoo. She waved the woman off, started the car again, and backed out of the lot. The reporter ran alongside her. The cameraman kept his lens on Aria as she zoomed to the main road.
She had to get out of here. Now.
By the time Aria arrived at the Rosewood SEPTA station, the parking lot was almost full with the regular commuters’ Saabs, Volvos, and BMWs. She finally found a space, shoved a bunch of change into the meter, and stood on the edge of the platform. The train tracks were under a rusty trestle bridge. Across the road was a pet store that sold homemade dog food and costumes for cats.
There wasn’t a train in sight. Then again, Aria had been so frantic to leave Rosewood Day, it hadn’t occurred to her to check the SEPTA schedule. Sighing, she pushed into the little station house, which consisted of a ticket window, an ATM machine, and a small coffee counter that also sold books about train travel along the historic Main Line. A few people sat on the wooden benches that lined the room, languidly staring at the flat-screen television in the corner that was tuned to Regis & Kelly . Aria walked over to the posted train schedules on the far wall and discovered that the next train wouldn’t be leaving here for a half hour. Resigned, she plopped down on a bench. A few people gawked at her. She wondered if they recognized her from TV. Reporters had been dogging her since Sunday, after all.
“Hey,” a voice said. “I know you.”
Aria groaned, anticipating what was coming next. You’re that murdered girl’s best friend! You’re that girl who was being stalked! You’re that girl who saw the dead body! When she looked one bench over, her heart stopped. A familiar blond guy was sitting on a bench across the aisle, staring at her. Aria recognized his long fingers, his bow-shaped mouth, even the little mole on his cheekbone. She felt hot, then cold.
It was Jason DiLaurentis.
“H-hi,” Aria stammered. Lately, she’d been thinking a lot about Jason—especially the crush she used to have on him. It was weird to suddenly have him here, right in front of her.
“It’s Aria, right?” Jason closed the paperback book he’d been reading.
“That’s right.” Aria’s insides shimmered. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard Jason say her name before. Jason used to refer to Aria and the others as simply “the Alis.”
“You’re the one who made movies.” Jason’s blue eyes were steady on her.
“Yeah.” Aria felt herself blushing. They used to screen Aria’s pseudo-artsy movies in Ali’s den, and sometimes Jason would pause in the doorway to watch. Aria used to feel so
Mike sat up straighter, spying the sign. “ Nice . I have the perfect idea of how to decorate it.” He rubbed his palms together eagerly.
Aria rolled her eyes. “Are you going to draw unicorns on it? Write a poem about your bromance with Noel?”
Mike raised his nose in the air. “It’s way better than that. But if I told you, I’d have to kill you.” He waved to Noel Kahn, who was climbing out of James Freed’s Hummer, and dashed out of the car without saying good-bye.
Aria sighed, peering again at the Time Capsule sign. In sixth grade, the first year Aria had been able to play, Time Capsule had been a huge deal. But when Aria, Spencer, and the others had sneaked into Ali’s yard hoping to steal her piece, everything had gone so wrong. Aria pictured the shoe box at the back of her closet. She hadn’t been brave enough to look inside it for years. Maybe Ali’s piece of the flag had decomposed by now, just like her body.
“Ms. Montgomery?”
Aria jumped. A dark-haired woman with a microphone stood outside her car. Behind her was a guy holding a TV camera.
The woman’s eyes lit up when she saw Aria’s face. “Ms. Montgomery!” she cried, banging on Aria’s window. “Can I ask you a few questions?”
Aria gritted her teeth, feeling like a monkey in a zoo. She waved the woman off, started the car again, and backed out of the lot. The reporter ran alongside her. The cameraman kept his lens on Aria as she zoomed to the main road.
She had to get out of here. Now.
By the time Aria arrived at the Rosewood SEPTA station, the parking lot was almost full with the regular commuters’ Saabs, Volvos, and BMWs. She finally found a space, shoved a bunch of change into the meter, and stood on the edge of the platform. The train tracks were under a rusty trestle bridge. Across the road was a pet store that sold homemade dog food and costumes for cats.
There wasn’t a train in sight. Then again, Aria had been so frantic to leave Rosewood Day, it hadn’t occurred to her to check the SEPTA schedule. Sighing, she pushed into the little station house, which consisted of a ticket window, an ATM machine, and a small coffee counter that also sold books about train travel along the historic Main Line. A few people sat on the wooden benches that lined the room, languidly staring at the flat-screen television in the corner that was tuned to Regis & Kelly . Aria walked over to the posted train schedules on the far wall and discovered that the next train wouldn’t be leaving here for a half hour. Resigned, she plopped down on a bench. A few people gawked at her. She wondered if they recognized her from TV. Reporters had been dogging her since Sunday, after all.
“Hey,” a voice said. “I know you.”
Aria groaned, anticipating what was coming next. You’re that murdered girl’s best friend! You’re that girl who was being stalked! You’re that girl who saw the dead body! When she looked one bench over, her heart stopped. A familiar blond guy was sitting on a bench across the aisle, staring at her. Aria recognized his long fingers, his bow-shaped mouth, even the little mole on his cheekbone. She felt hot, then cold.
It was Jason DiLaurentis.
“H-hi,” Aria stammered. Lately, she’d been thinking a lot about Jason—especially the crush she used to have on him. It was weird to suddenly have him here, right in front of her.
“It’s Aria, right?” Jason closed the paperback book he’d been reading.
“That’s right.” Aria’s insides shimmered. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever heard Jason say her name before. Jason used to refer to Aria and the others as simply “the Alis.”
“You’re the one who made movies.” Jason’s blue eyes were steady on her.
“Yeah.” Aria felt herself blushing. They used to screen Aria’s pseudo-artsy movies in Ali’s den, and sometimes Jason would pause in the doorway to watch. Aria used to feel so
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