Josie’s lips twitched, but she didn’t laugh. She pulled her bag up her shoulder. “Actually, I should probably go. I still don’t really know my way around this place yet.”
“You’re leaving?” Hanna asked, returning from the curb.
“We’ll talk soon, okay?” Josie practically fled from them, her ponytail bouncing as she ran down the hill. When she got to the door, a few pretty girls said hello to her, and she smiled back.
Hanna slumped miserably. Ali threaded her arm through her elbow. “I’m sorry, Han. People can get pretty grossed out by dog poop, though.”
Hanna pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. “There actually wasn’t any dog poop on my shoe. I checked.”
“Really?” Ali asked innocently. She grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. “I swore I smelled something, Han! My bad!”
Hanna’s brow furrowed, perhaps sensing what Ali was up to. Hanna was smarter than Ali sometimes gave her credit for—she picked up on manipulative behavior much faster than the others did. If Ali ever stepped aside—not that that would ever happen—and if Hanna made herself over, she’d probably make a decent queen bee herself.
But Hanna said nothing. Ali clutched her arm once more. “Besides, I’ve heard that everyone from California is a major flake. You don’t want to be friends with her, anyway.”
She had Ali, after all, and Ali was all that mattered.
5
THOSE SUMMER ROMANCES ARE ALWAYS THE BEST . . .
“Bring it in, ladies!” Ali’s field hockey coach, Mrs. Schultz, called as the two scrimmaging teams jogged in front of the field. Even though the season was long over, Mrs. Schultz liked to get the girls together to practice every once in a while to stay in shape for next year. Ali tramped toward the bleachers. The scent of fresh-cut grass tickled her nostrils, and as she got closer, she saw that Mrs. Schultz was setting out a big jug of fruit punch–flavored Gatorade, her favorite.
“You girls play great defense,” Mrs. Schultz said when Ali and Cassie reached the stands. “You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with next fall.”
Cassie nudged Ali. “You’re going to be an MVP even before you’re a freshman.”
“That’s because I’m awesome!” Ali chirped, forming her arms into a V. But deep down, she couldn’t even believe she’d made the team. She’d barely walked the grounds at the Radley, much less ran field hockey drills, but as soon as she heard that the high school team was opening up JV tryouts to two outstanding junior high players—Ali and Spencer—she’d made it her goal to make the cut. When her family later visited the hospital and “Courtney” found out that Ali had made the high school team, “Courtney’s” face had paled. Who’s the better Alison now? Ali had wanted to yell at her.
Ali grabbed a plastic cup from the stack and poured herself some Gatorade. Then she changed her shirt, threw her gear into her bag, said good-bye to Cassie and the others, and started toward the auxiliary parking lot, where Jason was supposed to be waiting to pick her up. Only a Honda Civic, a random school bus, and the rent-a-cop’s Ford were parked there, the driver’s seats empty.
She sat on the edge of the fountain to wait. Two cheerleaders whose names Ali didn’t remember flounced out of the upper school and headed to their cars. An eighth grader who was always on the morning video announcements stood near the flagpole, talking on her cell phone. And standing by the doors to the gym were Naomi Zeigler and Riley Wolfe. They looked up and stared at her at the same time, then quickly turned away.
Ali’s stomach flipped. It had been a year and a half since she’d ditched Naomi and Riley without an explanation, but she still felt uneasy in their presence. At first, the two girls had begged Ali’s forgiveness for whatever they’d done—they just wanted to be friends again. They offered to do Ali’s homework for the year. Whatever clothes in their closets she liked, she could have. They mentioned a place called the Purple Room and something called Skippies, which was exactly why Ali had dropped them—she didn’t know what they were talking about. They would have sniffed her out as the Fake Ali so fast she would have been locked up at the Preserve in no time.
Her phone chimed, and she jumped. It was a text from Aria: Want to come over tomorrow night? My parents are going on a date. Liquor cabinet, here we come!
Yes and yes! Ali typed back.
She pushed her phone back into her pocket. Suddenly, she felt eyes on her back again, and goose bumps rose on her skin. Was it Naomi and Riley? But when she turned, it was a boy about her age, standing where the trees met the parking lot. She had no idea where he’d come from, and he was staring at her so intensely that Ali worried he could see into her thoughts.