“End. Of. Story.” Ali pointed to the string bracelet on both of their wrists. There were a lot of things she’d considered telling Emily since that night. What she’d seen just before the firework went off. The discussion she’d had with Jenna even before that night. But she’d been lying for so long that she couldn’t start over now. And anyway, the truth wouldn’t change what had happened.
She tugged at Emily’s ponytail. “I’m so glad you could come over tonight, Em.”
“Totally.” Emily ducked her head bashfully. “We haven’t had a night alone since February.”
Ali smirked. “Of course you’d keep track of something like that.” Emily was like the friendship secretary, keeping minutes of exactly how much time they spent together. Sometimes, she’d announce that they’d been friends for two hundred and thirteen days, or that they’d spent four hundred minutes on the phone the past week, or that they’d exchanged sixty-seven emails or written a hundred and nine texts, or that they’d shared fourteen secrets.
Emily looked worried. “Is it weird?”
“Nah.” Ali hugged a pillow. “Well, maybe weird in a cute way.” If the others were around, Ali might have dogged Emily a little more for it, but when it was just the two of them, she could tell her what she really thought. When Ali was with Emily and only Emily, being so polished and perfect didn’t matter as much.
Footsteps sounded in the hall, and the girls looked up. Mrs. DiLaurentis emerged in the kitchen in a sundress, a thin leather bankbook in her hands. She stopped short when she saw Ali and Emily in the den. “I thought you girls were going to the mall,” she blurted, hiding the book behind her back.
Ali cocked her head. “We never said that.”
“Oh.” Mrs. DiLaurentis looked flustered. “Well. Don’t stay up too late, okay?”
The garage door slammed. Ali waited for her mother’s Mercedes engine to start, but it didn’t. She was half-tempted to go out into the garage and see if she was just sitting in her car, talking on her phone—she did that sometimes. Freak.
Bzz. Ali’s phone vibrated in her back pocket. She had a new text from Nick. Hey, cutie, it said. Write anything about anyone on a cabin wall lately?
Ali’s stomach swooped, and she let out a happy squeal. Sorry, haven’t met any good kissers, she replied.
“Who are you writing to?” Emily peeked at Ali’s phone from the couch.
Ali turned the phone over. “Someone from hockey.” She didn’t want to share Nick quite yet. It was nice keeping it quiet until she was sure something was actually happening between them. Besides, Emily would probably criticize her for moving on too quickly from Matt, breaking his heart. Emily was a softie like that.
She looked up at Emily, taking in her long strawberry-blond hair, light eyes, and cute, freckly face. “We need to find you a boyfriend, Em.”
Emily looked startled. “We do?”
“Duh! You haven’t even had a first kiss!” She clapped her hands. “I think I might’ve found someone perfect for you. He just moved to Rosewood—his name is Mason Byers. He’s playing on the lacrosse team, so he’s sporty, too. And he seems really sweet, Em—he’s from somewhere in the South. I bet you’d really like him.”
She jumped to her feet, getting even more and more excited. “I could call Noel right now and ask for his number. He’s supercute, Em—he has freckles, too.”
Emily slowly pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. “I’m not interested.”
Ali placed her hands on her hips. “You haven’t even met him yet. And he’s not a butt-grabber, I promise.” Once, at a party at Noel Kahn’s house earlier this year, an eighth grader had squeezed Emily’s butt hard, giving her a playful wink when she’d turned around to glare at him. Emily had recounted this story to Ali with horror, not realizing that she should have taken it as a compliment.
Emily’s expression still didn’t change. Puzzled, Ali climbed next to her on the couch. “What’s really going on?” she demanded.
Emily stared at her freshly painted nails. “I sort of like someone else.”
“Really?” Ali grabbed Emily’s knee. “Who?”
Emily’s eyes darted back and forth. “I can’t tell you.”
Ali burst out laughing. She knew everything about Emily, even the embarrassing stuff: that she’d gotten her period at eleven, that she’d wet the bed at a swimming sleepover in fourth grade, that she’d accidentally grazed an older boy’s erection during swim practice and hid in the locker room for the rest of the hour, terrified he thought she’d meant to do it.
“Is it someone really embarrassing?” Ali goaded. “Someone off-limits? Whoever it is, you can tell me, Em. I won’t share it with anyone, I promise.”
Emily grabbed a magazine and opened to a random page. “These shoes are cute, don’t you think?”
“Whoever it is, I could help you get him to like you. Seriously. Just tell me, okay?” Then she leaned her head on Emily’s shoulder. “I’ll be your best friend?”
Emily stiffened under the weight of Ali’s head. After a moment, she moved away and stood up from the couch. “I just remembered,” she blurted, diving for her overnight bag and stuffing it with the pajama pants and makeup bag she’d pulled out onto the floor. “I have to do this thing for my mom.”