Sara Shepard - Perfect

Yesssss, Aria swore she heard a far-off voice call. It sounded like Ali’s voice.

She thought about A’s note. Someone had wanted something of Ali’s—and had killed her for it. What? Everyone had wanted something of Ali’s—even her best friends. Hanna had wanted Ali’s personality, and seemed to have appropriated it after Ali vanished. Emily had loved Ali more than anyone—they used to call Emily “Killer,” as in Ali’s personal pit bull. Aria had wanted Ali’s ability to flirt, her beauty, her charisma. And Spencer had always been so jealous of her.

Aria stared into the taped-off area that would be Ali’s grave and asked the question that had been slowly forming in her mind: What were you guys really fighting about?

“This isn’t working for me,” Aria whispered after a moment. “Let’s go.”

She gave Ali’s future grave a parting glance. As she turned away, Sean’s fingers entwined with hers. They walked quietly for a while, but halfway to the gate, Sean stopped. “Bunny rabbit,” he said, pointing at a rabbit across the clearing. He kissed Aria’s lips.

Aria’s mouth curled up into a smile. “I get a kiss just because you saw a rabbit?”

“Yep.” Sean nudged her playfully. “It’s like the game where you punch someone when you see a VW Bug. With us, it can be kisses—and rabbits. It’s our couple game.”

“Couple game?” Aria snickered, thinking he was joking.

But Sean’s face was serious. “You know, a game that’s only for us. And it’s a good thing it’s rabbits, because there are tons of rabbits in Rosewood.”

Aria was afraid to make fun of him, but really—a couple game? It reminded her of something Jennifer Thatcher and Jennings Silver might do. Jennifer and Jennings were a couple in her grade who had been going out since before Aria had left for Iceland at the end of seventh grade. They were known only as Double-J, or Dub-J, and were called that even individually. Aria could not be a Dub-J.

As she watched Sean walk in front of her, heading toward their bikes, the delicate hairs on the back of her neck stood up. It felt like someone was looking at her. But when she turned around, all she saw was a giant black crow standing on top of Ali’s headstone.

The crow glared at her, unblinking, and then spread its massive wings and took off toward the trees.

On Thursday morning, Dr. Evans shut her office door, settled into her leather chair, folded her hands placidly, and smiled at Spencer, who was sitting opposite her. “So. I hear you had a photo shoot and interview yesterday with the Sentinel .”

“That’s right,” Spencer answered.

“And how did that go?”

“Fine.” Spencer took a sip of her extra-large Starbucks vanilla latte. The interview actually had gone fine, even after all of Spencer’s worrying—and A’s threats. Jordana had barely asked her about the essay, and Matthew had told her the pictures looked exquisite.

“And how did your sister deal with you being in the spotlight?” Dr. Evans asked. When Spencer raised an eyebrow, Dr. Evans shrugged and leaned forward. “Have you ever thought she might be jealous of you?”

Spencer glanced anxiously at Dr. Evans’s closed door. Melissa was sitting outside on the waiting room couch, reading Travel + Leisure . Yet again, she’d scheduled her session for right after Spencer’s.

“Don’t worry, she can’t hear you,” Dr. Evans assured her.

Spencer sighed. “She seemed sort of…pissed,” she said in a low voice. “Usually, it’s all about Melissa. Even when my parents just ask me a question, Melissa immediately tries to steer the conversation back to her.” She stared at the undulating silver Tiffany ring on her pointer finger. “I think she hates me.”

Dr. Evans tapped her notebook. “You’ve felt like she hates you for a long time, right? How does that make you feel?”

Spencer shrugged, hugging one of Dr. Evans’s forest green chenille pillows to her chest. “Angry, I guess. Sometimes I get so frustrated about the way things are, I just want to…hit her. I don’t, obviously, but—”

“But it would feel good though, wouldn’t it?”

Spencer nodded, staring at Dr. Evans’s chrome gooseneck lamp. Once, after Melissa told Spencer she wasn’t a very good actress, Spencer had come really close to punching Melissa in the face. Instead, she’d flung one of her mother’s Spode Christmas plates across the dining room. It had shattered, leaving a butterfly-shaped crack in the wall.

Dr. Evans flipped a page in her notebook. “How do your parents deal with your and your sister’s…animosity?”

Spencer raised one shoulder. “Mostly, they don’t. If you asked my mom, she’d probably say that we get along perfectly.”

Dr. Evans sat back and thought for a long time. She tapped the drinking-bird toy on her desk, and the plastic bird started taking measured sips of water out of an I HEART ROSEWOOD, PA, coffee mug. “This is just an early theory, but perhaps Melissa is afraid that if your parents recognize something you’ve done well, they’ll love you instead of her.”

Spencer cocked her head. “Really?”

“Maybe. You, on the other hand, think your parents don’t love you at all. It’s all about Melissa. You don’t know how to compete with her, so that’s where her boyfriends come in. But maybe it’s not that you want Melissa’s boyfriends exactly, but more that you want to hurt Melissa herself. Sound right?”

Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe…”

“You girls are both in a lot of pain,” Dr. Evans said quietly, her face softening. “I don’t know what started this behavior—it could have been something long ago, something you might not even remember—but you’ve fallen into a pattern of dealing with each other this way, and you’ll continue the pattern unless you recognize what it’s based on and learn how to respect each other’s feelings and change. The pattern might be repeating in your other relationships, too—you might choose friends and boyfriends who treat you like Melissa does, because you’re comfortable with the dynamic, and you know your role.”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asked, hugging her knees. This sounded awfully psychobabblish to her.

“Are your friends sort of…the center of everything? They have everything you want, they push you around, you never feel good enough?”

Spencer’s mouth went dry. She certainly used to have a friend like that: Ali.

She closed her eyes and saw the strange Ali memory that had been plaguing her all week. The memory was of a fight, Spencer was sure of it. Only, Spencer usually remembered all of her fights with Ali, better than she remembered the good moments of their friendship. Was it a dream?

“What are you thinking?” Dr. Evans asked.

Spencer took a breath. “About Alison.”

“Ah.” Dr. Evans nodded. “Do you think Alison was like Melissa?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

Dr. Evans plucked a Kleenex out of the box on her desk and blew her nose. “I saw that video of you girls on TV. You and Alison seemed angry at each other. Were you?”

Spencer took a deep breath. “Sort of.”

“Can you remember why?”

She thought for a moment and gazed around the room. There was a plaque on Dr. Evans’s desk that she hadn’t noticed the last time she’d been here. It said THE ONLY TRUE KNOWLEDGE IN LIFE IS KNOWING YOU KNOW NOTHING.—SOCRATES. “Those weeks before Alison went missing, she started acting…different. Like she hated us. None of us wanted to admit it, but I think she was planning on dropping us that summer.”