“You got me.” Ian got out of the car and walked over to her, stopping so close that they were almost touching. “I just wanted to let you know that I kissed Spencer, just like you asked. So when are you going to hold up your end of the bargain?”
Ali removed a tube of gloss and eased it across her lips. The last thing she wanted was to kiss him, but something about the way he was looking at her made her feel superhero-powerful, like she could spin cars over her head or bend bars of steel with her mind. A second later, though, it hit her: Cheating on Nick with Ian made her no better than her mother.
A chill shot through her. Could someone else really be her true father, some random, awful man she didn’t know? It made no sense. Her father had taken her and her sister sledding when they were small. He’d come to her dance recitals. He knew that she liked orange juice without pulp and Wawa French vanilla coffee. Whatever had happened, if something had happened, she was almost certain he didn’t know about it.
And maybe something had happened. Mr. DiLaurentis and Jason had identical toes, the second one larger than the first. And Ali had her mother’s blond hair and ice-blue eyes. But she didn’t have either of their noses—not her mother’s pert little button or her father’s ugly hook. For the longest time, she’d been grateful that she hadn’t inherited her father’s nose, but now she regretted it. And where had her bow lips and sarcastic smile come from? She had stared at her father for so long at dinner last night that he’d asked her twice if there was something wrong.
Ian moved his hand toward Ali’s arm, but Ali stepped away before he could stroke her wrist. “You know what? I’ve changed my mind. I’ll only give you a kiss if you break up with your girlfriend.”
Ian’s brow furrowed. “Melissa?”
Ali barked out a laugh. “No, Spencer. Of course Melissa. I’m not the type who goes for guys who are already taken.”
Ian crossed his arms over his chest. “It’s just a kiss.”
“My deal is final.” She spun around and sauntered toward the entrance to the ice rink.
The inside of the ice rink was dark and chilly. Team pennants and championship plaques hung on the walls, and eighties New Wave music blared from the speakers. A Zamboni groaned back and forth on the ice, clearing away all the nicks. Several little kids stood impatiently against the Plexiglas walls, their skate-clad ankles wobbling.
Ali spied Emily at the rental desk. When Emily turned and smiled, Ali’s stomach flipped over. This was the first time she’d been alone with Emily since she’d discovered the heart on Emily’s notebook. Even though she was almost positive Emily had no idea Ali knew about it, she still felt shaky, like Emily might guess that she knew.
And how could she not know? Ali had run out of the dressing room so fast. She hadn’t even tried to hide it, which wasn’t like her at all. It made her paranoid about all the other secrets in her life. What if people found out about those?
“Hey,” Emily said softly as she approached. There were two pairs of white ice skates looped over her wrist, and she wore a heavy cable-knit sweater and jeans. She handed Ali a pair of size-seven skates and sat down on the bench. “Thanks for meeting me. This is going to be so fun.”
“If you like dodging little kids,” Ali said, watching as kids in Girl Scouts uniforms and brown rental skates spilled out of the bathroom. “And falling on your butt. I haven’t skated since I was little.”
“Don’t worry,” Emily said softly. “I’ll help you.”
Ali looked at her friend, thinking about that heart again. I love Ali, it had said. Ali loved her, too, but not like that. She still didn’t know whether to be flattered or just completely weirded-out.
Ali shoved her heel into the skate boot and pulled the laces tight. She’d just finished tying a bow when the Zamboni rolled off the ice and the guards opened the gates again. The little kids dashed for the center. Disco lights dazzled the newly shiny ice. A Flo Rida song started to play.
Ali’s ankles wobbled as soon as they stepped on the ice. Emily extended her arm. “Grab on. I got you.”
Ali clung to Emily’s sleeve. Her feet zigzagged under her, and she thrust out her other arm to get her balance. When a boy in ice-hockey skates and a Flyers jersey whizzed past, almost clipping her side, Ali listed to the left, but her feet veered right. Suddenly, she was on her butt on the cold ice.
“Oops!” Emily said, helping Ali up. She navigated both of them toward the wall and instructed Ali to hold on for a moment. “Move your feet like this, in a glide,” she explained, demonstrating. Her skate cut a perfect line in the ice. “Keep your ankles stiff. And don’t stare at your feet—that’ll definitely make you fall.”
“I’m not falling ever again,” Ali muttered. But she tentatively pushed off the wall and tried to copy Emily’s movements. Her ankles wanted to turn, and her thighs burned even more than they did after running up and down the field hockey field, but after two laps around the rink, she started to get the hang of it. Actually, it was almost fun.