Emily pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. “Are you . . . sure?”
“Uh-huh,” Ali chirped, shoving her phone back into her pocket. It vibrated again, but she ignored it.
Another slow song started up, and Emily reached for Ali’s hand once more. But Ali pulled away, feeling sweaty and flustered and way, way too visible. What if her sister was somehow watching right now? What if she saw Ali doing this and thought she was dancing with Emily for real?
“I think one slow dance is enough for today, don’t you, Em?” she asked, trying to make her voice teasing, even though she was exhausted and frazzled.
Emily’s cheeks turned pink. “O-of course! I didn’t want to dance! I just wanted to get a hot dog—and I wanted to see if you wanted one, too!”
But the devoted smile lingered in Ali’s mind, and as they glided toward the exit, a sour feeling welled in her stomach. Saying nice things hit Emily in her sweetest, squishiest, most vulnerable spot. And while teasing out vulnerability was usually Ali’s specialty, something about this made her feel especially guilty.
Perhaps it was because Emily was her best friend. Or perhaps it was because, deep down, the things Emily said back sometimes made Ali feel squishy and vulnerable, too.
20
THE BOMB
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” Nick asked Ali on the phone the following afternoon.
“One,” Ali said automatically, propping her feet against the wall of her bedroom and staring at the ceiling. “You?”
“I’m an only child. It was tough growing up. I was always playing by myself.”
“Yeah, but you got all the attention,” Ali pointed out.
Nick groaned. “Everyone who has siblings always says that. But it wasn’t that much fun.”
“I would have loved to be an only child,” Ali murmured, more to herself than to Nick.
She rolled over onto her stomach. She’d been on the phone with Nick for forty-five minutes and thirty-six seconds—not that she was counting. This was the longest conversation she’d ever had with a boy, and they still hadn’t run out of things to talk about.
“How about friends?” Nick asked. “You got a best friend, or a group, or what?”
“I have a group—they’re all my best friends.” Ali picked at her nail polish. “I’m not sure about things between us right now, though.”
He paused. “Are you in a fight?”
“Not exactly. They just . . . well, some of them aren’t the people I thought they were. Has that ever happened to you?”
Nick thought for a moment. “I had this friend a while ago. She was awesome—really sweet, really funny—but it turned out she had this dark side.”
Ali raised an eyebrow. “Was this a girlfriend?”
“Not exactly,” Nick said. “She was a girlfriend’s friend. A real psycho.”
The word psycho ripped through Ali’s body like a gunshot. “How did your girlfriend know her?”
“Hang on,” Nick said, and there was a pause. “Sorry,” he said, getting back on the line. “I thought my mom was calling me.”
Jackhammers started up in the backyard, and Ali groaned. “What’s that?” Nick asked.
Ali sighed. “Workers are digging this hole in my backyard to make way for a gazebo. It’s the longest process ever.”
“Why would workers need to dig a hole to build a gazebo?”
“That’s the question I’ve been asking,” Ali said, laughing. “Who knows? Maybe we’re putting in a bomb shelter instead. Or maybe this gazebo needs a basement.” She moved the phone to the other ear. “So I’m going to have a party before graduation. Just a small group of friends, but I’d love for you to come.” Her heart pounded unexpectedly. It surprised her how nervous she was asking Nick out. This was the first time since she’d become Alison that she worried about a boy saying no.
“When is it?” Nick asked.
“Friday,” Ali said. “Just at my house. Totally casual.”
“Um . . .”
There was a creak behind her, and Ali turned. Her mother was standing in the hall, a nervous expression on her face. It was the kind of look one didn’t ignore.
Ali clutched the phone to her ear. “I have to go. To be continued.” Then she pushed END.
Mrs. DiLaurentis took a few steps into the room. “Can you come downstairs for a sec? Your dad and I want to talk to you and Jason about something.”
For a moment, Ali’s legs felt glued to the bedspread. Her mind flashed instantly to her mom and whoever that guy from the mall was the other day. The way that guy had touched her mom’s cheek. Maybe it would be better not to go downstairs at all.
“Come on,” Mrs. DiLaurentis said, offering her hand.
Ali didn’t know what else to do but follow her. Her heart thudded loudly as she trudged down the stairs and made the turn into the kitchen. Mr. DiLaurentis sat at the table, and Jason leaned against the counter, snacking on an open box of Cheez-Its. Ali tried to make eye contact with him, but he looked away.