But for some reason, circumstances had changed in the last twenty-four hours. Mrs. DiLaurentis had knocked on Courtney’s door last night and told her to pack her things at once, slipping the pamphlet for the Preserve into her hands. “We think this will be the best thing for you,” she cooed, stroking her daughter’s hair.
Courtney leafed through the pamphlet’s pages, staring at the photos of the patients. They had to be models—they looked too happy. She’d heard terrible things about the Preserve from other kids who had gone there. People called it “death row” because so many kids committed suicide while inside. Others called it “Rapunzel’s tower” because parents left their kids in there for years. No Internet, television, or phone calls were allowed. The nurses were like extras from One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, and the doctors on staff had no qualms about tying kids to their beds to keep them calm. Parents loved it, though, because the place looked beautiful from the outside. And it was super expensive—it had to be good, right?
But she wasn’t going. She’d been formulating a plan all night to figure out how. Now all the pieces were fitting into place . . . except the opportunity she needed. She hoped one would arise—and soon. Her parents were taking her away in forty-five minutes.
She buried the pamphlet under her packed clothes and wheeled the suitcase to the top of the stairs. Then she walked down the stairs. Something caught her eye out the back window. Four girls were standing behind the bushes, whispering. They looked about Courtney’s age, and she could hear their voices through the screen.
One girl, a blonde in a field hockey skirt and a white T-shirt, placed her hands on her hips. “I was here first. That flag’s mine.”
“I was here before you,” a second girl spouted. She was a little on the chubby side and had frizzy brown hair. “I saw you come out of your house only a few minutes ago.”
A third girl stomped a purple suede boot. “You just got here, too. I was here before both of you.”
Courtney ran her tongue over her teeth. Were they here for Ali’s flag? And they’d made a reference to one girl coming from next door—that had to be Spencer Hastings. Mrs. DiLaurentis had mentioned her name at dinner on Friday, and Mr. DiLaurentis had made a sour face. He’d said Spencer’s parents were such show-offs, building a third addition to their house, converting that perfectly good barn into a luxury apartment for their oldest daughter. As if a bedroom isn’t good enough? he’d railed.
“Do you see them out there?” Courtney asked Ali, who was now standing at a counter, angrily whipping through a magazine, headphones in her ears. Jason was gone, and by the sounds of it, their parents were still upstairs, getting dressed.
Ali’s head snapped up. She tore the headphones out. “Huh?”
“There are some girls outside. One of them is the girl who lives next door.”
“She’s in the yard?” Ali looked annoyed and walked to the window. But when she peered out, she frowned. “I don’t see Spencer. Thank God.”
“You’re not friends with her?”
Ali snorted. “No. She’s a bitch.”
And you’re not? Courtney thought.
Ali turned to face her as if Courtney had said it out loud. A nasty smile settled across her lips. “Cute shirt. But it’s giving me déjà vu.”
Courtney grabbed a banana from the basket. “I liked the color.”
“Yeah, right.” Ali sauntered to the counter and grabbed a donut from the open box.
“Careful,” Courtney said, strolling toward her. “Donuts will make you fat.”
Jelly dripped down Ali’s chin. “So will mental hospital food, schizo.”
Courtney winced. She wasn’t a schizo, and Ali knew it. “Don’t.”
“Don’t,” Ali imitated, her features turning ugly.
Courtney sucked in her stomach. Ali always used a nasal, dumbed-down voice to mimic her. “Stop it,” she snapped.
“Stop it,” Ali imitated.
Courtney felt the old fire rise up inside, the one that had gotten her in trouble before. Although she tried her hardest to suppress it, something broke loose. “Guess what,” she spat. “I do have your Time Capsule flag.”
Ali’s eyes widened. “I knew it. Give it back.”
“It’s gone,” Courtney said. “I gave it to Jason. And he doesn’t want to give it back to you.” It wasn’t exactly the truth, but this version sounded better.
Ali glowered at Jason, who had just reappeared in the doorway. “Is this true? You knew she had my flag?”
Jason looked back and forth between the girls, his gaze lingering on their matching outfits. “Well, yeah, Ali, but—”
Ali’s gaze darted to something in Jason’s pocket. The shiny blue fabric peeked out. She snatched it out halfway, her eyes widening at the wishing well that was now wedged between the manga frog and the bubble-letter awesome. Her eyes narrowed on Courtney. “Did you draw this?”
Jason grabbed it back from her and stuffed it back in his pocket. “Ali, just let it go.”
Ali squared her shoulders. “You’re always on her side!”
“I’m not on anyone’s side,” Jason said.