who had on a pink polo and capri-length pajama pants. Her blond hair cascaded around her shoulders, and she wore a sparkly rhinestone crown on her head.
“She looks hot in that crown,” Mike said enthusiastically, tearing open a large bag of Doritos.
“Shhh,” Aria hissed.
Spencer pointed at Ali’s LG phone on the couch.
“Want to read her texts?”
“I do!” Hanna whispered, ducking out of the shot. Then the camera swung to Emily, who looked nearly the same as she did today—same reddish-blond hair, same oversize swimming T-shirt, same pleasant-but-worried expression. Aria suddenly remembered this night—before they’d turned on the camera, Ali had gotten a text message and hadn’t told them whom it was from. Everyone had been annoyed.
The camera showed Spencer holding Ali’s phone. “It’s locked.” There was a blurry shot of the phone’s screen.
“Do you know her password?” Aria heard her own voice ask.
“Damn! That’s you!” Mike whooped.
“Try her birthday,” Hanna suggested.
The camera showed Hanna’s chubby hands reaching in and taking the phone from Spencer.
Mike wrinkled his nose and turned to Aria. “Is this what girls do when they’re alone? I thought I was going to see pillow fights. Girls in panties. Kissing .”
“We were in seventh grade,” Aria snapped. “That’s just gross.”
“There’s nothing wrong with seventh-grade girls in their panties,” Mike said in a small voice.
“What are you guys doing?” Ali’s voice called. Then her face appeared on-screen, and Aria’s eyes brimmed with tears. That heart-shaped face, those luminous dark blue eyes, that wide mouth—it was haunting.
“Were you looking at my phone?” Ali demanded, her hands on her hips.
“Of course not!” Hanna cried. Spencer staggered backward, clutching her head to keep her crown on.
Mike shoved a handful of Doritos into his mouth. “Can I be your love slave, princess Spencer?” he said in falsetto.
“I don’t think she goes out with prepubescent boys who still sleep with their blankies,” Aria snapped.
“Hey!” Mike squeaked. “It’s not a blankie! It’s my lucky lacrosse jersey!”
“That’s even worse,” Aria said.
Ali floated on-screen again, looking alive and vibrant and carefree. How could Ali be dead? Murdered?
Then Spencer’s older sister, Melissa, and her boyfriend, Ian, walked past the camera. “Hey, girls,” Ian said.
“Hi,” Spencer greeted him loudly.
Aria smirked at the TV. She’d forgotten how they all lusted over Ian. He was one of the people they would prank-call sometimes—along with Jenna Cavanaugh before they hurt her, Noel Kahn because he was cute, and Andrew Campbell because Spencer found him annoying. For Ian, they took turns pretending they were girls from 1-800-Sexy-Coeds.
The camera caught Ali rolling her eyes at Spencer. Then Spencer scowled at Ali behind her back. Typical, Aria thought. The night Ali disappeared, Aria hadn’t been hypnotized, and she’d listened to Ali and Spencer fight. When they ran out of the barn, Aria waited a minute or two, then followed. Aria called their names. But she couldn’t catch up with them. She went back inside, wondering if Ali and Spencer had just ditched the rest of them, staging the whole thing so they could run off to a cooler party. But eventually Spencer burst back inside. She looked so lost , as if she was in a trance.
On-screen, Ian plopped down on the couch next to Ali. “So, what are you girls doing?”
“Oh, not much,” Aria said from behind the camera.
“Making a film.”
“A film?” Ian asked. “Can I be in it?”
“Of course,” Spencer said, taking a seat next to him.
“It’s a talk show. I’m the host. You and Ali are my guests. I’ll do you first.”
The camera panned off the couch and focused on Ali’s closed phone, which was next to Ali’s hand on the couch. It got closer and closer until the phone’s tiny LED screen took up the whole picture. To this
“She looks hot in that crown,” Mike said enthusiastically, tearing open a large bag of Doritos.
“Shhh,” Aria hissed.
Spencer pointed at Ali’s LG phone on the couch.
“Want to read her texts?”
“I do!” Hanna whispered, ducking out of the shot. Then the camera swung to Emily, who looked nearly the same as she did today—same reddish-blond hair, same oversize swimming T-shirt, same pleasant-but-worried expression. Aria suddenly remembered this night—before they’d turned on the camera, Ali had gotten a text message and hadn’t told them whom it was from. Everyone had been annoyed.
The camera showed Spencer holding Ali’s phone. “It’s locked.” There was a blurry shot of the phone’s screen.
“Do you know her password?” Aria heard her own voice ask.
“Damn! That’s you!” Mike whooped.
“Try her birthday,” Hanna suggested.
The camera showed Hanna’s chubby hands reaching in and taking the phone from Spencer.
Mike wrinkled his nose and turned to Aria. “Is this what girls do when they’re alone? I thought I was going to see pillow fights. Girls in panties. Kissing .”
“We were in seventh grade,” Aria snapped. “That’s just gross.”
“There’s nothing wrong with seventh-grade girls in their panties,” Mike said in a small voice.
“What are you guys doing?” Ali’s voice called. Then her face appeared on-screen, and Aria’s eyes brimmed with tears. That heart-shaped face, those luminous dark blue eyes, that wide mouth—it was haunting.
“Were you looking at my phone?” Ali demanded, her hands on her hips.
“Of course not!” Hanna cried. Spencer staggered backward, clutching her head to keep her crown on.
Mike shoved a handful of Doritos into his mouth. “Can I be your love slave, princess Spencer?” he said in falsetto.
“I don’t think she goes out with prepubescent boys who still sleep with their blankies,” Aria snapped.
“Hey!” Mike squeaked. “It’s not a blankie! It’s my lucky lacrosse jersey!”
“That’s even worse,” Aria said.
Ali floated on-screen again, looking alive and vibrant and carefree. How could Ali be dead? Murdered?
Then Spencer’s older sister, Melissa, and her boyfriend, Ian, walked past the camera. “Hey, girls,” Ian said.
“Hi,” Spencer greeted him loudly.
Aria smirked at the TV. She’d forgotten how they all lusted over Ian. He was one of the people they would prank-call sometimes—along with Jenna Cavanaugh before they hurt her, Noel Kahn because he was cute, and Andrew Campbell because Spencer found him annoying. For Ian, they took turns pretending they were girls from 1-800-Sexy-Coeds.
The camera caught Ali rolling her eyes at Spencer. Then Spencer scowled at Ali behind her back. Typical, Aria thought. The night Ali disappeared, Aria hadn’t been hypnotized, and she’d listened to Ali and Spencer fight. When they ran out of the barn, Aria waited a minute or two, then followed. Aria called their names. But she couldn’t catch up with them. She went back inside, wondering if Ali and Spencer had just ditched the rest of them, staging the whole thing so they could run off to a cooler party. But eventually Spencer burst back inside. She looked so lost , as if she was in a trance.
On-screen, Ian plopped down on the couch next to Ali. “So, what are you girls doing?”
“Oh, not much,” Aria said from behind the camera.
“Making a film.”
“A film?” Ian asked. “Can I be in it?”
“Of course,” Spencer said, taking a seat next to him.
“It’s a talk show. I’m the host. You and Ali are my guests. I’ll do you first.”
The camera panned off the couch and focused on Ali’s closed phone, which was next to Ali’s hand on the couch. It got closer and closer until the phone’s tiny LED screen took up the whole picture. To this
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