“Looks like someone’s having a party,” Mrs. DiLaurentis murmured.
Mr. DiLaurentis made a face. “On a Thursday night?”
Ali got out of the car to get a better view. Kids stood on the Hastingses’ patio and near the backyard barn where Melissa lived. Melissa sat with her legs crossed at one of the patio tables—with her chin-length blond hair and pearls, she looked like a clone of Mrs. Hastings. Spencer’s father, who was tall and broad with a long, slender nose; strong jaw; and thick head of curly dark hair, stood on the deck, swirling a snifter of cognac.
Mr. DiLaurentis rolled his eyes as he slammed the driver’s door. “Do they have to be so damn showy? That third tier to the deck looks ridiculous.”
“And she’s always dropping hints that they only serve Dom Pérignon at parties,” Mrs. DiLaurentis added. “How tacky!” But even as she got out of the car and walked inside, her gaze remained on the crowd. She looked almost wistful.
Jason went inside without commenting. After a moment, Ali was the only one left on the driveway. She peered through the hedges. Most of the kids she recognized: There was Justin Poole, a hot soccer player named Garrett Flagg, and Reed Cohen, whose band almost got signed at a Philly music festival last year. Ian Thomas, with his straw-colored hair and confident, golden-boy good looks, stood by the barn’s front door, holding a red plastic cup that was almost certainly full of some sort of alcohol. But when Ali saw the girl next to Ian, flirting up a storm, her mouth dropped open.
It was Spencer.
Instantly, Ali started across the lawn, not caring if her brand-new white Maloles flip-flops got grass stains. She wriggled through the opening in the hedges and marched past the crowd of kids until she was right next to Spencer and Ian. When Spencer turned, she paled. “Oh!” she chirped nervously.
Ian glanced at the two of them, then wandered away to talk to another senior. Ali faced Spencer and smiled sweetly. “You didn’t tell me there was a party tonight.”
Spencer’s eyes darted back and forth. “Melissa put it together at the last minute—she got into Penn on a full scholarship.”
“Yay for her,” Ali said. “But you could have texted me.”
“I’m sorry.” Spencer looked nervous. “I didn’t think you were home. I saw your car pull out earlier.”
Ali placed her hands on her hips. “So?”
Spencer set her mouth in a line. “Ali, it wasn’t—” Then her eyes clapped on someone behind them. Ian was sauntering back over, now with a plate of food in his hand.
“Who grilled these burgers?” He took a juicy bite. “They’re amazing.”
Spencer brightened. “I did, actually.”
“Seriously?” Ian looked impressed. “Can you do steaks?”
Spencer sank into one hip and gave him a long, sultry stare. “I can do anything.”
Ian’s smile broadened. Suddenly, Ali wondered if he was why Spencer hadn’t told her about the party. Maybe she wanted him all to herself.
She inserted herself into Ian’s field of view. “Heeey, Eee,” she said, calling him by the nickname her sister had used in her diary.
Ian turned his attention to Ali. His smile widened, and he looked her up and down. “What’s up, Ali?”
She batted her eyelashes. He was way too old for her, but it was so much fun to flirt with him—and she couldn’t resist those sexy dimples when he smiled. “Is that Dom Pérignon you’re drinking?” She pointed at the cup.
Ian shrugged. “It’s champagne, but I have no idea what kind.”
Ali looked at Spencer. “Apparently your mom bragged that she only serves Dom Pérignon champagne at parties. It seems kind of tacky, though, don’t you think?” She loved needling Spencer with the snarky things her parents said about the Hastings family.
“Who cares if it’s tacky if it tastes good?” Ian said. He proffered the cup to Ali. “Want a sip?”
“Ian?” Melissa interrupted from the patio just before Ali accepted his cup. She stood at the railing, glaring at them. Ali gave her a sweet smile, but Melissa’s expression didn’t change.
“Coming,” Ian said, snatching the cup back from Ali. He shot the girls a parting smile and said he’d see them later. When he slung his arm around Melissa’s shoulders, Spencer made a tiny, tortured whimper.
“Is someone out to get her sister’s boyfriend?” Ali teased.
Spencer’s face reddened. “Of course not!”
Ali rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. It’s written all over your face. ‘I can do anything,’” she added in a breathy voice. “‘Come to me, big boy. Give me a big, wet kiss.’”