A muscle by Mrs. DiLaurentis’s mouth twitched. Her eyes had darkened to a deeper blue, which they always did when she became serious or enraged. “Yes, there is someone who knows about Courtney besides us. But it’s someone who has kept things an absolute secret, I promise. There are a lot of things you don’t understand, Alison. Things you don’t need to know.”
Ali ran her hand down the length of her face. Rage bubbled up inside her, then geysered out. “Things I don’t need to know?” she growled, her voice sounding feral. She yanked her hand away from her mother, her head spinning faster and faster. “When are you going to tell the truth, Mom? When are you going to tell me where I really come from?”
Mrs. DiLaurentis jerked her head back and frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“I heard you!” Ali screamed. “I heard you say, She’s your daughter, too! So this does concern me, Mom. Knowing who my real father is concerns me a lot.”
The color drained from Mrs. DiLaurentis’s cheeks. “Alison,” she hissed. And then she rose to her feet and slapped Ali across the face.
It came so fast, so out of nowhere, that Ali didn’t feel the sting until a few seconds after it was over. Tears welled up in her eyes. Her mouth dropped open, but she was too stunned to speak.
Mrs. DiLaurentis settled back into her chair. Calmly, evenly, she picked up the overturned glass. There was a long pause. Ali’s heart pounded; her cheek stung. It felt like everything hinged on what her mother would say next.
“There will be no more of that,” Mrs. DiLaurentis announced in a deep voice. And then her gaze shifted to the half-dug hole at the back of the yard. “The workers are set to pour the concrete for the gazebo the weekend your sister is home,” she said in the clipped, perfunctory voice Ali was used to, the voice that got things done. She squeezed Ali’s shoulder twice. “Just in time for your fabulous summer parties.”
And with that, she was gone.
24
HANNA LETS IT ALL GO
The following evening, Ali placed the last bowl of chips on the table and stood back for the effect. “Do people even eat Doritos anymore?” she asked aloud, then spun around and glanced at her friends. Too bad Hanna wasn’t among them; otherwise, she would have made a snarky comment.
“It looks great, Ali,” Emily said, adjusting the daisy behind her ear, which she’d picked from Ali’s side yard. Emily had dressed up for the party—for her, anyway—wearing a pair of crisp jeans without any holes in them and an almost-tight T-shirt she’d borrowed from Aria that said Irish Girls Do It Better. Ali was sure that if Emily’s mom caught her wearing it she’d be in huge trouble.
“The Christmas lights were a nice touch,” Spencer said. She still had her eye on her house next door, probably waiting for Ian, who had a date with Melissa tonight, to show up.
“Thanks,” Ali said. Her dad had brought up a box of Christmas lights from the basement this morning and strung them all over the patio—Ali had first seen the effect at a restaurant in Little Italy in New York City. After that, her dad had offered to pick up any guests who didn’t have rides and grill burgers for them. Guilty much? Ali had wanted to snap, not taking the bait. It was obvious he was trying to atone for her twin’s arrival the following Tuesday, but nothing could make up for that.
She lit a few more candles and placed them on the tables, then checked to make sure the stereo was cued up to a peppy, dance-friendly playlist and that the deck had been swept clean so everyone could dance. She touched Aria, who was standing in the corner, looking at the texts on her phone. “Everything okay at home?”
Aria paled, glancing around at the other girls on the deck. “Fine.” She almost sounded annoyed. “I was just texting my mom what time I’d be back.”
Ali flinched. That was what she got for trying to be nice? Fury welled up inside her. Fine. If Aria thought Ali was a bitch, then she would be a bitch. “So do you know who that girl was?” Ali asked, easing closer, barely recognizing her own voice.
Aria’s mouth snapped into a tight line. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Do you think your mom knows? Everyone at Hollis?”
Aria gave Ali a pleading look, then shoved her phone in her pocket and walked away. Ali watched her go, grinding her teeth. She wasn’t sure if it was Aria she was really angry at—all she saw, when she shut her eyes, was her mother’s hand reaching out to give her that slap. But the meanness felt good, right. She felt in control.