Julie had been hesitant, but she’d taken Parker’s word. So she’d turned herself in to the cops. Let them cart her off to the hospital, tie her down, sedate her—but they promised, from the start, that they’d try to track down Fielder. Finally, he’d arrived, all flushed and freaked out, his hair flying every which way around his head, and his shirttails hanging out over his pants. He heard her out. She gave him the same spiel about Parker not being real. Fielder had nodded, tears in his eyes. “I want to get better,” Julie had urged. Fielder had placed his hand over hers. “I want that for you, too.”
It was when he’d grabbed his coat that she’d snatched the visitor’s pass off his jacket. He didn’t catch it at all, smiling at her sadly when he left, promising to return the next week. Twenty minutes later, when she was sure he was gone and the nurse shift had changed—she was still so new that most of the nurses didn’t recognize her—Julie changed clothes, pinned the badge on her shirt (luckily, it only said E. Fielder, so she could be an Elizabeth, or an Elsa) and walked out of there. Easy as that.
Did she feel bad she’d used Fielder? Not really. He’d stalked Parker, and that still made him a weirdo in Julie’s book. And anyway, it had been Parker’s idea: We have to take extreme measures to get free, she’d whispered to Julie that night in the woods. Fielder would be fine: Guards might suspect him of assisting in her escape at first, but once they talked it out, this wouldn’t hurt his career. He’d just look like a dupe.
Julie’s stomach growled as she watched the cars slow to a standstill on the off-ramp. She’d need to get some food soon. Traffic inched forward. So many people, Julie thought, stuck in their cars, stuck in their lives, just waiting for someone else to get out of their way. But not me.
It was better this way, Julie knew. There was nothing for them in Beacon Heights anyway—not anymore. She felt a shot of longing for Carson, who had been so good to her, but then she reminded herself that he most certainly thought she was nuts, just like everyone else in town. Just like her own mother, according to the horribly awkward interviews she’d given on CNN, MSNBC, 60 Minutes. It was better to have a clean break. She should have thought of doing this years ago.
There was a knock on the door, and Julie hopped out of her seat. She skipped across the room, past the two queen beds, past the tiled bathroom, and opened the door slowly. When she saw who stood there on the thick carpet in the hall, she let out a little cry of joy.
“Oh, thank god!” Julie exclaimed, shooting forward and wrapping her arms tightly around Parker’s thin, hunched, hoodie-clad frame.
Parker stood outside the door, grinning broadly. Julie looked so grateful, as if she’d feared she might never see her again. “Can I come in?”
“You don’t need an invitation.” Julie laughed, opening the door wider.
Parker stepped over the threshold, a plastic bag bursting with Chinese takeout boxes dangling from one hand, spilled sauce beginning to pool in a corner of the sack. “Hungry?”
“Starving.” Julie smiled, a smile big and broad and full of sunshine. “Thank god you’re okay,” she gushed, holding out her arms and pulling her friend into a hug.
“Oh, please,” Parker scoffed, brushing her off. “I’m a fighter. I’ll always be okay, Julie. You know that.”
“I know, but you risked so much.”
Parker shrugged. All she’d done, really, was hide while everything went down with Julie. While Julie turned herself in, while Julie spent those days at the hospital, while Julie narrowly escaped, carefully adhering to Parker’s plan. She’d known where to find Julie afterward, traveling far to get here, always in disguise. After all, Julie was the one who’d taken the heat—for everything Parker had done.
And Parker would always be in her debt.
Then she pulled away and looked her friend squarely in the eye. “I’m always going to be fine, you know. As long as I have you.”
Julie beamed. “Same here.”
Then they sat down and divvied up the food. Parker ate and ate and ate, suddenly hungrier than she’d been in years. She felt . . . alive again. Revived. Everything about this moment was right. They were alone, but they had each other. In a teeny, tiny way, Parker regretted using Fielder—they really had made a connection, she thought. But she couldn’t dwell on that. The important thing now was Julie. Finally, they were together, with no one to threaten their bond again. The closest of friends forever.
And Parker and Julie swore to themselves in a singular thought, communicated through that uncanny telepathy they sometimes had, that they would never, ever be apart again.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
HUGE THANKS TO KATIE MCGEE, Lanie Davis, Sara Shandler, Les Morgenstein, Josh Bank, Romy Golan, and Kristin Marang for their creative brilliance on this project. Also kudos and hugs to Jen Klonsky, Kari Sutherland, and Alice Jerman at Harper for making the project even better. A big shout-out to Jen Shotz: I couldn’t have done it without you.
Also, though this is a work of fiction, I want to emphasize that there is nothing glamorous about laughing at the expense of others, much less what these characters do in the books. Everyone, be good to each other. Kisses!
EXCERPT FROM PRETTY LITTLE LIARS
Read on for a sneak preview of