She trailed off and stared at her lap. The DiLaurentises exchanged a charged look Ali couldn’t quite decipher. “You seem much happier,” Mrs. DiLaurentis said.
“I’ve been feeling pretty good,” Courtney said. “I guess it’s the new meds they have me on.”
“And your nurses said you’ve been really cooperative,” Mr. DiLaurentis added.
“They’ve been nice to me,” “Courtney” said. “They all work so hard.”
Ali turned her head and rolled her eyes. What was with the sweet-as-pie act? And why was her twin acting so normal? Usually when they came here, “Courtney” was combative and angry, barely speaking to any of them.
“In fact, I’ve been doing so well that they’ve given me permission to leave campus every once in a while,” “Courtney” added.
Ali flinched. “By yourself?”
“No.” Her sister smiled sweetly. “With a chaperone.”
“Goodness.” Mrs. DiLaurentis smiled. “You must be improving.”
Ali pulled a loose string on the upholstered couch they were sitting on so vigorously a whole row of stitches unraveled in her hands. What lunatics allowed her sister to leave campus? Didn’t they realize what she was capable of?
After a while, a nurse tapped Mrs. DiLaurentis on the shoulder to say that Courtney’s group session would begin soon. Everyone hugged, Ali gritting her teeth as she wrapped her arms around her sister’s shoulders. Then her twin disappeared out of the day room, an odd spring in her step.
Ali excused herself to use the bathroom—she felt light-headed and needed a few seconds to herself. She pushed through the door of the visitors’ bathroom in the hall, wrinkling her nose at the acrid scent of bleach and the ring of rust around one of the sinks. Then the door opened again, and two girls walked inside. One of them was Iris. Another was her twin.
“H-hi?” Ali stammered. “Don’t you have group therapy?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that, sis,” “Courtney” sneered, glancing at Iris. The roommate marched to the door and stood guard in front of it, her skinny arms crossed over her chest.
Ali’s heart started to pound. She glanced at the door Iris was guarding. “Mom’s going to look for me soon.”
“Oh, this won’t take long,” “Courtney” simpered, moving closer.
Ali flinched. All kinds of horrible scenarios flashed through her mind. She saw her sister pouncing on her in bed when they were seven years old, forcing her to do whatever she asked. If you don’t, you’ll be sorry. She pictured her sister pushing her into a closet and binding her wrists with a bungee cord. She remembered her snapping the head off her precious doll, the only thing her grandmother had given her. And then she saw herself snap, tackling her sister to the ground, her sister’s eyes full of glee as she screamed for help. Her twin had set her up again and again and again.
“I just want to tell you something, okay?” Ali’s sister stood so close to Ali that Ali could see the pores on her cheeks, the sparkly sweep of eye shadow on her lids. “I know what you’ve been doing. And pretty soon, you’re going down.”
It felt like she’d just run a cold spike through Ali’s chest. “Please don’t lock me up again,” she blurted, twisting away from her sister’s face. Then she gasped, realizing what she’d just admitted. After the switch, she’d vowed never, ever to reveal what had happened to anyone, not even the girl whose identity she stole.
“Courtney” smiled nastily, catching what she’d said, too. She reached down and grabbed Ali’s finger, touching the silver ring with the curly A in the center. “Your time is running out, Ali,” she sneered, dropping Ali’s finger once more and brushing past her toward the exit. “Say your good-byes.”
9
ALL FALL DOWN
“Looking good, Alison!” Mark Hadley, an eighth grader, called as Ali passed him on the track later that afternoon.
“Can I run with you?” Brian Diaz shouted next.
Ali shot a brilliant smile to them over her shoulder, but she didn’t stop. The red lines on the track blurred beneath her. She pumped her arms hard, cycled her legs, and whizzed past the bleachers, trying to clear her thoughts. This was her fifth lap, and she had decided to run as long as it took to get the memory of what had just happened at the hospital out of her mind. There was only one problem: The image of her sister’s sneering face was branded in her mind.