Sara Shepard - Unbelievable

Hanna sat down on the leather chair’s ottoman. “Um, we need to talk about what ?” she asked Spencer. Aria and Emily looked a little confused too.

“We got another note from A after we left your hospital room,” Spencer blurted.

“Spencer,” Hanna hissed. Emily and Aria gaped at her too. Since when did they talk about A around other people?

“It’s okay,” Spencer said. “Mona knows. She’s been getting notes from A too.”

Hanna suddenly felt faint. She looked at Mona for confirmation, and Mona’s mouth was taut and serious. “No,” Hanna whispered.

“You?” Aria gasped.

“How many?” Emily stammered.

“Two,” Mona admitted, staring at the outline of her knobby knees through her burnt orange C&C California jersey dress. “I got them this week. When I told Spencer about it yesterday, I never would have imagined that you guys were getting them too.”

“But that doesn’t make sense,” Aria whispered, looking around at the others. “I thought A was only sending messages to Ali’s old friends.”

“Maybe everything we thought was wrong,” Spencer said.

Hanna’s stomach spun. “Did Spencer tell you about the SUV that hit me?”

“That it was A. And that you knew who A was.” Mona’s face was pale.

Spencer crossed her legs. “Anyway, we got a new note. A obviously doesn’t want you to remember, Hanna. If we keep pushing you on it, A’s going to hurt us next.”

Emily let out a small whimper.

“This is really scary,” Mona whispered. She hadn’t stopped jiggling her foot, something she did only when she was very tense. “We should go to the police.”

“Maybe we should,” Emily agreed. “They could help us. This is serious.”

“No!” Aria nearly shrieked. “A will know. It’s like…A can see us, at all times.”

Emily clamped her mouth shut, staring down at her hands.

Mona swallowed hard. “I guess I know what you mean, Aria. Ever since I’ve gotten the notes, I’ve felt like someone has been watching me.” She looked around at them, her eyes wide and scared. “Who knows? A could be watching us right now.”

Hanna shivered. Aria looked around frantically, canvassing Hanna’s stuffy living room. Emily peeked behind Hanna’s baby grand piano, as if A might be crouching in the corner. Then Mona’s Sidekick buzzed, and everyone let out startled little yelps. When Mona pulled it out, her face paled. “Oh my God. It’s another one.”

Everyone gathered around Mona’s phone. Her newest message was a belated birthday e-card. Below the images of happy balloons and a frosted white cake that Mona would never eat in real life, the message read,

Happy belated b-day, Mona! So when are you going to tell Hanna what you did? I say wait until AFTER she finally gives you your birthday present. You might lose the friendship, but at least you’ll get to keep the gift!—A

Hanna’s blood turned to ice. “What you did ? What’s A talking about?”

Mona’s face went white. “Hanna…okay. We did get into a fight the night of my party. But it was just a little one. Honestly. We should just forget about it.”

Hanna’s heart thrummed as loud as a car engine. Her mouth instantly went dry.

“I didn’t want to bring up the fight after your accident because I didn’t think it mattered,” Mona went on, her voice high-pitched and desperate. “I didn’t want to upset you. And I felt terrible about us fighting last week, Hanna, especially when I thought I’d lost you forever. I just wanted to forget about it. I wanted to make it up to you by throwing you this amazing party, and—”

A few aching seconds passed. The heat switched on, making them all jump. Spencer cleared her throat. “You guys shouldn’t fight,” she said gently. “A’s just trying to distract you from figuring out who’s sending these awful notes in the first place.”

Mona shot Spencer a grateful look. Hanna lowered her shoulders, feeling all eyes on her. The last thing she wanted to do was talk about this with the others around. She wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it at all. “Spencer’s right. This is what A does.”

The girls fell into silence, staring at the square-shaped, paper Noguchi lamp that sat on the coffee table. Spencer grabbed Mona’s hand and squeezed. Emily grabbed Hanna’s.

“What else have your notes been about?” Aria asked Mona quietly.

Mona ducked her head. “Just some stuff from the past.”

Hanna bristled, focusing on the bluebird-shaped hair clip in Aria’s hair. She had a feeling she knew just what A was taunting Mona about—the time before Hanna and Mona were friends, when Mona was dorky and uncool. What secret had A focused on most? When Mona had tagged along behind Ali, wanting to be just like her? When Mona was the butt of everyone’s jokes? She and Mona never discussed the past, but sometimes Hanna felt like the painful memories loomed close behind, bubbling just below the surface of their friendship like an underground geyser.

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” Hanna said quickly. “A lot of our A notes have been about the past, too. There’s lots of stuff we all want to forget.”

She met her best friend’s eyes, hoping Mona understood. Mona squeezed Hanna’s hand. Hanna noticed that Mona was wearing the silver-and-turquoise ring Hanna had made for her in Jewelry II, even though it looked more like one of the clunky Rosewood Day class rings that only nerds wore than a pretty bauble from Tiffany. A small spot in Hanna’s pounding heart warmed. A was right about one thing: Best friends shared everything. And now she and Mona could too.

The doorbell rang, three short Asian-inspired bongs. The girls shot up. “Who’s that?” Aria whispered fearfully.

Mona stood, shaking out her long blond hair. She broke into a big smile and pranced toward Hanna’s front door. “Something to make us forget about our problems.”

“What, like pizza?” Emily asked.

“No, ten male models from the Philly branch of the Wilhelmina modeling agency, of course,” Mona said simply.

As if it were preposterous to think it could be anyone else.

Thursday night, after leaving Hanna’s, Emily skirted her way around all of the shopping bag–laden, expensive perfume–wearing King James Mall consumers. She was meeting her parents at All That Jazz!, the Broadway musical–themed restaurant next to Nordstrom. It had been Emily’s favorite restaurant when she was younger, and Emily guessed that her parents assumed it still was. The restaurant looked the same as always, with a fake Broadway marquee facade, a giant Phantom of the Opera statue next to the hostess podium, and photos of Broadway stars all over the walls.

Emily was the first to arrive, so she slid into a seat at the long, granite-topped bar. For a while, she stared at the collectible Little Mermaid dolls in a glass case near the hostess stand. When she was younger, Emily wished she could switch places with Ariel the Mermaid Princess—Ariel could have Emily’s human legs, and Emily would take Ariel’s mermaid fins. She used to make her old friends watch the movie, up until Ali told her it was lame and babyish and she should just stop.

A familiar image on the TV screen above the bar caught her eye. There was a blond, busty reporter in the foreground, and Ali’s seventh-grade school picture in the corner. “For the past year, Alison DiLaurentis’s parents have been living in a small Pennsylvania town not far from Rosewood while their son, Jason, finishes up his degree at Yale University. They’ve all been leading quiet lives…until now. While Alison’s murder investigation rolls on with no new leads, how is the rest of the family holding up?”