Sara Shepard - 0.5 Ali's Pretty Little Lies

“Ali?” Jenna called again.

A screen door banged across the street, and Toby Cavanaugh stepped onto the porch. Ali froze. What was he doing home? Hadn’t he been sent away forever?

Toby stepped off the porch and crossed the yard. “Jenna, what are you doing over there?”

His haunted voice made Ali flinch. That horrible moment in sixth grade all came back to her in an instant: the angry way Toby had said I saw you that night, the horror in his eyes when she’d thrown what she knew about him back in his face. Not long before that, she’d come upon Jenna in tears. Even though she tormented Jenna in school, Jenna knew more about Ali than anyone else—and she never told anyone. All of a sudden, she wanted to atone for how nasty she’d been. She wanted to make it up to her.

What’s wrong? she asked Jenna. She squeezed her hand. You can tell me. You know I won’t tell a soul.

Jenna raised her head. It took her a long time to speak. It’s my brother , she began.

When she was finished, Ali gave her a hug. You know that I have sibling problems , too. I can help you . We should come up with something to make him go away forever.

And they had.

“Jenna,” Toby said again, more sternly this time. When he reached the curb where Jenna was standing, he paused, as if sensing Ali was there, too. His eyes narrowed into two iron-cold slits. Ali’s heart thudded in her throat.

Finally, he took Jenna’s arm. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s go in.”

Jenna pulled on her dog’s harness. Tapping her white cane, her dog walking at her side, she disappeared inside the house, not saying another word.

There was no sound as beautiful, Ali thought as the twangy guitar-note ringtone that announced she had a new text message from Nick.

What’s your favorite subject in school? was the latest one. Ali, who was sitting on her front porch swing waiting for Aria, tapped the keyboard with her reply. It used to be English , she wrote, but now we have to read so many boring books that I guess it’s study hall. LOL. She didn’t want to list her real favorite class—science—for fear that she’d look like a nerd.

Mine too , Nick wrote back, and Ali smiled.

Her phone beeped again. Hey, remember that counselor at camp who got stung by all those bees? Nick wrote. What was his name?

Ali bit down hard on the inside of her cheek. I know who you mean , she typed after a moment. Can’t remember though.

A familiar Subaru rolled up, and Aria got out of the back, carrying Pigtunia under her arm. We’ll talk later , Ali wrote to him. I’ll be here , Nick wrote back.

She glanced at Aria’s father behind the wheel. He wore a ripped T-shirt with printing so faded on the front that it wasn’t even legible anymore. His thinning hair stood up every which way, and he had that half-beard scruff going that some girls thought was sexy but Ali thought just looked dirty. She couldn’t even look him in the eye.

Byron looked away, too, as if he knew Ali knew. Which meant Aria had to know, too, right? If Aria admitted something, then maybe Ali would tell her that she knew how it felt. That she’d seen her mom and that random guy at the mall. The secret felt like a shaken-up can of Coke inside her, its contents fizzing and pressing against her sides. It would feel good to tell someone, especially someone who could commiserate.

Aria walked up the porch steps and sat down on the swing next to Ali. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” Ali said. “What’s up with you?”

Aria pushed off the porch rails to give the swing a bit more momentum. “So I have to talk to you about something.”

Ali’s heart lifted. “What?” she asked innocently.

Aria spun the beaded bracelet around her wrist. “You know the drama class I’m taking after school?” Aria asked. “Well, we had a new student today. Toby Cavanaugh.”

On instinct, Ali gazed across the yard, half expecting Toby still to be standing there, as he had been last night. “He’s back,” she stated, not exactly like a question.

“Yeah.” Aria bit her pointer finger. “He kept staring at me, too. And then we had to do this speech exercise, and we were partnered together. I had to say a phrase, and he had to repeat it back to me until the phrase changed. I picked It never snows in the summer. And we said it back and forth, back and forth, until Toby started saying I know what you did last summer. ” She widened her eyes dramatically. “Do you think Toby knows something?”

Ali touched a rusty spot on the swing’s chain. Only Spencer had been there for her confrontation with Toby, and Ali had made her promise to not tell the others. It seemed safer to keep it between them.

“Toby doesn’t know what we did,” she said definitively. “And anyway, The Jenna Thing happened last spring, not summer. He’s just mental.” Then she looked at Aria. “ That’s what you had to tell me?”

“Well, yeah.” Aria frowned. “Don’t you think that’s a big deal? Toby’s weird .”

Ali shrugged. “Yeah, but that’s not exactly news .”

She rested her head on Aria’s shoulder, thinking for a moment how she could get Aria to talk. She decided to use her last-ditch plan. She cleared her throat. “Something weird happened to me, too, and I really need someone to talk to about it.” She stared at the lawn. “I think my parents are breaking up.” Just saying the words made a lump form in her throat.

Aria twisted around to stare at her head-on. “Why would you say that?”

“They’ve been arguing a lot.” Ali stared at her palms. “And they’ve said they have something to tell me and Jason—I just know it’s about that.” There was no way she was telling her about her mom, though. Not yet.

“I’m sorry.”

Aria looked genuinely sympathetic. It felt good for a moment, but then Ali realized it wasn’t enough. “I don’t know what I’d do if my parents weren’t together,” she said. “It would be even weirder if they were with someone else. Have you ever thought about that?”

Aria folded in her shoulders. “Not really.”

“Your mom’s beautiful, though—and she’s around all those art dealers. Your dad is surrounded by students twenty-four-seven. It’s possible, don’t you think?”

Several expressions—awkwardness, humiliation, shame—crossed Aria’s face at once. “Anything’s possible, I guess.”

Her lips parted, perhaps to spill it all. But then her gaze landed on something just past Ali, and she stood up from the swing so quickly that Ali went careening backward. “Oh! Jason!”

Jason walked up the front steps, his backpack slung over one shoulder. “Hey,” he said gruffly.

“How are you?” Aria’s voice was high-pitched and strange. “Are you excited to graduate?”

“Not really,” Jason said, opening the door and banging it shut again.

Aria sank back into the swing, looking disappointed. Ali pressed her fingernails into the meatiest part of her palm, feeling humiliated. Had Aria just changed the subject on purpose? Did she know . . . and not want to tell? Ali had just told Aria something true and scary and terrible. Didn’t Aria have the decency to reciprocate? Wasn’t that what friends did?

Nastiness settled over her like a heavy black cloak, and she poked Aria hard. “Do you still like Noel?”

Aria’s eyes lit up. “Of course! Did you talk to him about me?”

“I did, in fact,” Ali lied.

“And?”

Ali allowed a slight pause, then laid her hand on Aria’s knee and squeezed. “Well, I went over to his house. But something kind of . . . weird happened. I told him about you, and he said he likes you as a friend.”