She entered her biology classroom. It smelled of its usual jumble of leaky Bunsen burner gas, formaldehyde, and marker-board bleach. The teacher, Mr. Heinz, wasn’t there yet, and the students were gathered around one desk in the middle of the room, looking at something on a silver MacBook Air. When Sean Ackard noticed Emily, he paled and broke from the crowd. Lanie Iler, one of Emily’s friends from swimming, saw Emily next and opened and closed her mouth like a fish.
“Lanie?” Emily tried, her heart starting to thud. “What is it?”
Lanie had a conflicted expression on her face. After a moment, she pointed at the laptop.
Emily took a few steps toward the computer. A hush fell over the room and the crowd parted. The local news web page glowed on the screen. POOR, POOR PRETTY LITTLE liars read the headline under Emily, Aria, Spencer, and Hanna’s school pictures. Farther down on the page was a blurry picture of the girls in Spencer’s hospital room. They were all gathered over Spencer’s bed, talking worriedly.
Emily’s pulse raced. Spencer’s hospital room had been on the second floor, so how had the paparazzi gotten this photo?
Her eyes returned to their new nickname. Pretty Little Liars. A couple of kids behind her tittered. They thought this was funny. They thought Emily was a joke. She took a big step back, almost bumping into Ben, her old boyfriend from swimming. “I guess I should watch out for you, Little Liar,” he teased, smirking.
That was it. Without another glance at her classmates, she rushed out of the room and headed straight for the bathroom, her rubber Vans squeaking on the polished floor. Luckily, there was no one inside. The air smelled like freshly smoked cigarettes, and water dripped from one of the faucets into a pale blue basin. Leaning against the wall, Emily took heaving breaths.
Why was this happening? Why did no one believe her? When she’d seen Ali in the woods on Saturday night, her heart had filled with joy. Ali was back. They could resume their friendship. And then, in a blink, Ali was gone again, and now everyone thought Emily had made her up. What if Ali really was out there, hurt and scared? Was Emily honestly the only person who wanted to help her?
She ran cold water on her face, trying to catch her breath. Suddenly, her phone beeped, echoing loudly off the hard bathroom walls. She jumped and unhooked the backpack from her shoulder. Her phone was in the front pocket. One new text message, said the screen.
Her heart went into free fall. She looked around swiftly, anticipating a pair of eyes watching her from the utility closet, a pair of feet under a stall. But the bathroom was empty.
Her breathing was shallow in her chest as she looked at the screen.
Poor little Emily—
You and I both know she’s alive. The question is: What would you do to find her?—A
Gasping, Emily opened the keyboard to her phone and started to type. I’ll do anything.
There was a return message almost immediately. Do exactly as I say. Tell your parents you’re going on that church trip to Boston. But instead, you’ll go to Lancaster. For more, go to your locker. I’ve left you something there.
Emily squinted. Lancaster . . . Pennsylvania? And how did A know about the Boston trip? She envisioned the crumpled-up flyer sitting at the bottom of the hall trash can. Had A seen her throw it away? Was A here at school? And more specifically, could she actually trust A?
She looked down at her phone. What would you do to find her?
Quickly, she sprinted up the stairs back to her locker, which was in the Foreign Languages wing. As French students sang along to “La Marseillaise,” Emily spun the dial and opened her locker door. At the bottom, next to a spare pair of swim fins, was a small grocery bag. Wear me, said messy Magic Marker scrawl on the front.
Emily’s hand fluttered to her mouth. How had this gotten here? Taking a deep breath, she picked up the bag and pulled out a long, plain dress. underneath that was a simple wool coat, stockings, and odd-looking shoes with little eyelet buttons. It looked like the Little House on the Prairie Halloween costume Emily had worn in fifth grade.
Her hand touched a piece of paper at the bottom of the grocery bag. It was another note, seemingly banged out on an old typewriter.
Tomorrow, take a bus to Lancaster, go north for about a mile from the depot, and turn at the big sign of the horse and buggy. Ask for Lucy Zook. Don’t dare take a cab to get there—no one will trust you.—A
Emily devoured the note three more times. Was A suggesting what Emily thought she was suggesting? Then she noticed typing on the other side of the note. She flipped the paper over.
Your name is Emily Stoltzfus. You’re from Ohio, but you’ve come to Lancaster for a visit. If you want to see your old BFF again, you’ll do exactly what I say. And . . . oh, did I forget to mention? You’re Amish. Everyone else there is, too. Viel Glück! (That’s German for “good luck”!)—A
Chapter 7
An Old Friend is Back
When the final bell of the day rang, Spencer plodded gratefully to her locker. Her limbs ached. Her head felt like it weighed a million pounds. She was ready for this day to be over. Her parents had told her she could take a few days off school to recuperate after the fire, but Spencer wanted to get back into the swing of things as soon as possible. She vowed to get straight A’s this semester, whatever it took. And maybe by spring, Rosewood Day would take her off academic probation and let her keep her spot on the lacrosse team—she needed it for college applications. There was still time to get into an Ivy League summer program, and she could sign up for Habitat for Humanity to round out her community service.
As she pulled her English books from her locker, she felt a tug on her jacket sleeve. When she turned around, Andrew Campbell was standing there, his hands shoved in his pockets, his longish blond hair pushed off his face.