Sara Shepard - 0.5 Ali's Pretty Little Lies

She stared intensely at the rack of jeans, pretending Iris wasn’t there. Aria, Emily, and Spencer drifted over as well, and soon, all five of them were at the jeans wall, pulling out their sizes in skinny-legs and bootcut, dark wash and light. Then they trooped for the dressing rooms, squeezing into one together before the salesgirl yelled, “Only one girl per room, please.”

Halfway through her massive pile of clothes to try, Ali spun around in the three-way-mirror; then noticed Emily sitting on the couch at the end of the dressing room hall with a wistful, faraway look on her face. She stopped. “Why aren’t you trying anything on, Em?”

Emily shook her head. “This stuff is way too expensive. My parents would die if they saw the prices.”

“We’ll chip in and buy you something,” Ali offered.

But Emily seemed in her own world, simply offering Ali a vague smile and a shrug. “I’ll just watch you try stuff on. I don’t mind.”

Suddenly, Ali perked up, a thought forming in her head. She perched on the edge of the couch. “Did something happen between you and that guy?” she asked excitedly.

Emily frowned. “What guy?”

Ali cuffed her gently. “You know! Your crush, silly!”

“Oh.” Emily’s mouth twitched. “No. Nothing has happened with that.”

“Are you going to tell me who he is yet?” Ali asked.

“Who who is?” Aria asked, bursting out of another dressing room in a pair of skinny corduroys. “Do you like someone, Em? Who? ”

Emily looked back and forth, a panicked expression rolling across her features. She suddenly reminded Ali of the cat, Kiki, her family had when she still lived at home—whenever they tried to corner Kiki to take her to the vet, she’d arch her back and widen her eyes just like Emily was doing now. “Um . . .”

“Is it that guy from swimming?” Spencer asked. “What was his name . . . Ben? He’s so cute.”

“I think she should like Kenneth Griggs in my art class,” Aria said.

“He’s gorgeous!” Hanna stepped out of a dressing room, too. “You guys would look amazing together!”

“It’s not Ben,” Emily said in a small voice. “Or Kenneth.”

Suddenly Ali knew what she had to do. “Guys, if Em doesn’t want to tell us quite yet, then we need to give her some space.”

The girls nodded and stepped inside their dressing rooms once more. After the doors closed Ali grabbed Emily’s hand and pulled her into the shoe area. “Sorry they overheard. But you can tell me , right?”

Emily looked like she really, really had to pee but was trying to hold it in. “I don’t think so.”

A wave of hurt coursed through Ali. Why wasn’t she good enough to tell? She disguised it with a frown of disgust. “I don’t understand. Why is it such a big deal?”

Emily paused and stared at the Kate Spade pumps on the wall. As Ali waited, she felt the distinct sense that someone was staring at her. Across the room, Iris had reappeared, leaning against a rack of blazers, her gaze on Ali, a strange smile on her face. Ali swallowed a lump in her throat and turned away.

“Please, Em?” Ali said softly. “Maybe I can help. Is it someone your parents wouldn’t approve of? Someone older?”

Emily’s big, freckly face reddened. She shook her head.

Annoyed, Ali tried a last-ditch effort. “You know my friend Cassie? She asked me to be her BFF. And I’m thinking about it.”

Emily blinked with this change of subject. “Really?” She sounded crushed.

“I wasn’t going to be, but if you won’t trust me, then maybe we’re not as close as I thought,” Ali said.

Emily’s eyes were wet with tears. “I can’t,” she whispered. And then, swallowing hard, she ducked around a rack of Jimmy Choos and ran.

“Emily!” Ali cried, running after her.

Emily darted into the skin-cream section, but Ali lost her near the makeup. She searched for the strawberry-blond head in Accessories and Men’s, but Emily was nowhere. Then she spied a small, discreet sign for a women’s bathroom a few paces down and jogged over to it.

Classical music tinkled inside. The room smelled like roses and had a small basket on the sink containing hair spray, gel, spray-on deodorant, tampons, and butterscotch candies. The towel girl, who was leaning against the sink and tapping on her cell phone, smiled at Ali. One pair of sneakers was visible under the stall door. They were Emily’s.

Ali spied a familiar denim backpack on the counter. She couldn’t remember how many times she’d told Emily that carrying around a backpack wasn’t cool, but Emily always said it was the best on her swimmer’s shoulders. The flap was open, and a few of her notebooks peeked out. The doodles Emily was so fond of drawing were visible on the cover.

Ali glanced at the feet under the stall, then at the bag again. It felt like Emily had purposefully left it there for Ali to find.

When the towel girl’s back turned, she pulled the bag toward her and slid the top notebook out. Upper Main Line Swimming! Emily had written in bubble letters on the front, the name of her year-round competitive swim club. Below it, she listed the names of the girls on her state-champion relay team. Next to that were doodles of the dog character on Family Guy , which Emily wasn’t allowed to watch at her house, and a large red heart with the letter A in the center.

A , Ali thought, her stomach jumping. She was on to something.

She lifted the cardboard cover of the notebook and looked at the first page, but there was nothing written there. She flipped through the pieces of lined paper, but they only contained notes about the Pythagorean theorem and little geometric diagrams. There was a rattling sound of toilet paper on the roll, and Ali froze and looked up. Emily’s feet shifted beneath the stall. She let out a loud sniff, like she was crying.

Whose name started with A ? Andrew Campbell? Austin Chang? That hot senior Aaron Gearheart?

Oh God, it’s Aaron Gearheart , Ali thought, her stomach sinking. Aaron dated girls from Hollis—rumor had it he’d even gotten someone pregnant. He’d eat someone like Emily for breakfast.

She flipped through more pages, praying it wasn’t Aaron. When she got to the very last piece of notebook paper, she spied a small red heart in the corner. It was so small, in fact, Ali could only read the handwriting if she put her face very close and squinted.

I love Ali.

The following afternoon, Ali stood in the doorway at Rive Gauche. Bartenders in crisp white shirts flitted around pouring drinks and cleaning glasses. A waitress rushed past with a tureen of rich-smelling fondue. A few girls from school were sitting in a booth, including Melissa Hastings, who had already noticed Ali and was glowering. Ali craned her neck, looking around for Nick—he was working today and had asked if she’d stop by during his break—but she didn’t see him anywhere.

She was so happy he’d texted. In some ways, she needed to see him, needed to confirm to the world that she liked a guy . Finding that heart on Emily’s notebook had shaken her to her core—she’d dropped the notebook and run out of the bathroom as fast as she could, mumbling a lame excuse to Spencer and the others and begging Jason to come pick her up right away. How had she not sensed Emily’s feelings? All those times Emily had defended her, all those compliments she gave. Even yesterday, Emily had been content just sitting on the couch in the dressing area watching Ali model the jeans in front of the three-way mirror. Ali had changed in front of her a zillion times, thinking nothing of it. This totally explained why Emily had watched Ali so closely when she did that sexy dance to the Justin Timberlake album a few weekends ago. And she’d made a contented little sigh when Ali was finished, like she’d dream about Ali later that night. . . .