Sara Shepard - Wanted

Spencer nudged Emily’s ribs. “You were like, ‘People die if they go over waterfalls in a canoe! We should tip it and swim to shore!’”

“And then you tipped us all without telling us first,” Aria said, shaking with giggles. “That water was so cold!”

“I was shivering for days,” Emily agreed.

“We look so young,” Hanna murmured, focusing especially on her own pudgy face. “Just think, a couple weeks before that, we were sneaking into your yard trying to steal your flag, Ali.”

“Yeah,” Ali said distractedly. Hanna watched her, waiting for Ali to chime in with a memory, but Ali simply began to pull out the bobby pins from her French twist, setting each one on the glass end table. Maybe it was wrong to bring up the Time Capsule day. Courtney had apparently been home that weekend, switching from the Radley to the Preserve. It probably stirred up all kinds of bad memories.

Hanna looked at the photo again. Things had been so different then. When they’d tipped the canoe, Hanna’s drenched, oversize T-shirt had clung to every roll of skin and ounce of fat. Not long after, Ali began to make remarks about how Hanna ate so much more than the rest of them, and that Hanna didn’t play a sport, and that Hanna always went for seconds at lunch. Once, at the King James Mall, she’d even quipped that they should go into Faith 21—Forever 21’s plus-size store—just to “look around.”

Suddenly, Naomi’s words flashed through Hanna’s mind. Everyone said Ali picked you as a joke. You were such a loser.

Hanna slumped against the sideboard, nearly knocking over a decorative plate adorned with a print of Independence Mall. Her mouth felt sticky with vodka, and her limbs hung loose and free.

Ali turned and lobbed something white and fluffy at each of the girls. “Hot tub time!” She clapped her hands. “Make yourselves fresh cocktails and get changed while I go outside and turn it on.”

Grabbing her drink, Ali skipped through the living room and out to the back porch, her blond ponytail bobbing. Hanna stared at the objects Ali had thrown at her—a fluffy white Frette towel and a polka-dotted Marc Jacobs string bikini. She held the bikini top and bottom up to the light, admiring the shiny fabric and silvery ties.

Hanna straightened up, suddenly refortified. Nice try, bitches. The tag inside the butt read size zero. Hanna smiled to herself, flattered and stunned. It was the best compliment anyone could have given her.

The alcohol had definitely gone to Emily’s head. She stood in the tiny Pennsylvania Dutch–themed downstairs bathroom clad in only her string bikini, tilting from one side to the other, sizing up her toned biceps, her thin waist, and her shapely shoulders. “You’re hot,” she whispered to her reflection. “Ali wants you.” She started to giggle.

Not only was she drunk on vodka, she was also drunk on Ali. It was thrilling to be back in the Poconos. And kissing Ali at the dance? Emily wasn’t sure when she’d felt happier in her entire life.

Emily marched out of the bathroom, a fluffy white towel wrapped around her waist. She plucked a half-drunk cocktail off the buffet table and skipped out to the three-season porch. It was exactly as she remembered it—the overpowering smell of potting soil and wetness, the stone garden gnomes in the corner, and the quirky, chipped tile-top tables Mrs. DiLaurentis had found at an estate sale. Emily expected to see Ali there—she’d wanted to give Ali a secret kiss before the others came out—but the room was empty.

“Chilly!” Emily cried as her bare toes hit the frigid floor. A heat lamp had been set up near the door, and the big green plastic cover had been pulled off the hot tub. The motor groaned loudly. Bluish bubbles rose to the surface of the tub. When Emily touched the water, she squealed again. It was ice-cold. The tub probably hadn’t been used in years.

Hanna, Spencer, and Aria emerged onto the porch. As they waited for Ali to change, Hanna dragged in the iPod speakers from the living room and put on Britney Spears, who they’d loved dancing to in seventh grade. They all sang along to the music, just like old times. Emily stretched her towel out, sliding it seductively down the length of her bikini-clad body. Hanna strutted up and down the porch like she was on the catwalk, pausing at the end of the room to pose. Spencer did high Rockette-style kicks. Aria tried to imitate her and almost took out a dead fern. The girls doubled over laughing, wrapping their arms around one another. They leaned against the side of the hot tub, gasping for breath.

“I can’t believe we didn’t talk to each other for so many years,” Spencer blurted. “What was wrong with us?”

Aria waved her hand with an uninhibited flourish. “We were stupid. We should’ve stayed friends.”

Emily’s face flushed. “Seriously,” she whispered. She’d had no idea the others felt the same way she did.

Hanna brushed a couple of dead leaves off one of the outdoor chairs and plopped down. “I missed you guys.”

“No, you didn’t.” Spencer pointed at her drunkenly. “You had Mona.”

They all fell silent, ruminating on what Mona had done to all of them. Emily felt a lump in her throat as she watched Hanna wince and turn away. It was bad enough that Mona had tormented Emily, but Mona had been Hanna’s best friend.

Emily stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Hanna. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. Spencer moved in next, and then Aria. “She was insane,” Spencer murmured.

“I should have never lost touch with you guys,” Hanna mumbled into Spencer’s shoulder.

“It’s okay,” Emily cried, petting Hanna’s long, silky hair. “You have us now.”

They remained that way until the song petered out into silence. The hot tub groaned. A loud thump sounded from inside the house. Spencer looked up, her brow furrowing. “Ali sure is taking a long time to change.”

Everyone wrapped their towels around their shoulders and went inside. They moved through the living room and into the kitchen. “Ali?” Hanna called. No answer. Emily poked her head into the bathroom from which she’d just emerged. Water dripped from the faucet. The heat from the vent made the tail of the toilet paper roll float in the air.

“Ali?” Aria called into the formal sitting room. Sheets had been draped over the chairs, making them look like lumpish ghosts. Everyone stood stock-still, listening.

Spencer paused in the kitchen. “Maybe I shouldn’t be bringing this up now, but my mom called earlier. My sister is still missing….”

“ What? ” Emily stopped next to the stove.

“What if she followed us?” Spencer’s voice wobbled. “What if she’s here?”

“She can’t be.” Hanna took a fortifying swig of her cocktail. “Spencer, there’s no way.”

Spencer pulled her sweater over her head and padded toward the door that led to the side yard. Emily grabbed her sweatshirt and jeans, pulled them on, and followed. The old, rusty side door creaked as it opened. The sky was bright with stars. The only other light was a single golden beam from the garage. The black BMW was parked in the driveway. Emily’s eyes flickered back and forth, searching desperately for a shifting shadow. She pulled out her phone, wondering if they should call someone. Her screen said No Service Available. Everyone else looked at their phones, too, and shook their heads. They were all out of range.

Emily shivered. This can’t be happening . Not again. What if they’d been on the sun porch, having a great time, and something awful had happened to Ali? It was like a repeat of seventh grade: For minutes they’d sat in the barn, dumbly hypnotized, while a girl had been murdered.