Mr. Owens, the strictest of the gym teachers, passed by, and Aria quickly slipped the phone in her pocket—they weren’t supposed to use them during school hours. When he trundled around the corner, Aria played the video again. “How can this be possible?” she whispered, her face drawn. “If Billy was in Florida when Ian was killed, someone else must have taken those pictures and dug up that stuff on us as A.”
Emily chewed nervously on her lips. “It doesn’t make any sense. He’s got to be lying. Maybe he paid someone to say that.”
“With what money? He can’t even afford a lawyer,” Aria pointed out.
The two of them stood in silence for a few moments. Two guys on the wrestling team whipped past, playing some deranged version of hallway tag. The newscast ended, and the option to choose two more videos appeared on the screen. One was the report from the night Jenna was murdered. The other was about Courtney DiLaurentis. Emily stared at Courtney’s picture, grief and confusion rippling through her once again. Ali lied to us, she thought, her heart breaking for the millionth time. Ali had left Emily and the others out of a huge part of her life. It was like they had never been friends at all.
Or had she dropped some hints? Ali had been obsessed with twins, for one thing—once, when Ali and Emily went shopping alone in Ardmore, Ali told everyone that they were twins, just to see how many people would believe them. And Ali used to marvel over how similar Emily and her sister Carolyn looked. “Has anyone ever thought you guys are twins?” she asked more than once. “Do people ever mistake you for each other?”
Aria noticed Emily looking at Courtney’s picture. She touched Emily’s wrist. “Be careful.”
Emily flinched. “What are you talking about?”
Aria pursed her lips. A group of girls in cheerleading uniforms marched past, practicing the arm movements for a cheer. “She might look exactly like Ali, but she’s not her.”
Heat rushed to Emily’s face. She knew what Aria was getting at. Emily’s old friends knew about her crush on Ali—many of Emily’s notes from the original A, Mona Vanderwaal, had talked about nothing else. Aria had accused Emily of letting her heart get in the way of her head before, especially when Emily clung to the idea that Ali was still alive.
“I know she’s not Ali,” she snapped. “I’m not an idiot.” She whirled into the gym locker room without saying good-bye.
The room smelled of rubber sneakers, hair spray, and floral deodorant. A bunch of girls were already changing into their T-shirts and shorts, and the air was filled with chatter about the Valentine’s Day dance that Saturday. Emily stomped to her locker, prickly with agitation. Aria had definitely hit a nerve.
Truth be told, Emily had lain awake all last night, reliving the moment Courtney had stepped onto the podium. Even though it wasn’t Ali, Emily’s heart had lifted when Courtney gave her that alluring wink. It had been thrilling to sit in the DiLaurentises’ new kitchen, too, right across from this achingly beautiful, hauntingly familiar girl. Emily had dreamed about Ali for years; how could she not feel something for her identical twin?
And what did Aria mean, be careful? There was no reason to distrust Courtney—she’d been as much a victim in this as Emily and the others were. Courtney was lucky to have narrowly escaped the fire in the woods. Billy was obviously trying to kill her, too, just like he was trying to kill Emily, Aria, and the others.
But what if the newscast was right? What if Billy hadn’t killed Ian or set that fire…or done anything else?
“Ahem.”
Emily jolted up, the white T-shirt and blue shorts she’d pulled from her gym locker slipping from her hands. A blond girl with a heart-shaped face was sitting on one of the wooden benches at the end of the aisle. “Oh!” Emily cried, clapping her hand over her mouth. It was as if Courtney had appeared just because Emily had been thinking about her.
“Hi.” Courtney was dressed in a snug-fitting Rosewood Day blazer, a white button-down, and a blue plaid skirt. Her school-issued blue socks were tight and even, stopping right below her pretty, diamond-shaped kneecaps. She stared at the gym clothes in Emily’s arms. “I didn’t know we were supposed to bring shorts and stuff.”
“Yeah.” Emily lifted her T-shirt by the collar. “You can get gym clothes at the school store.” She cocked her head. “Mr. Draznowsky didn’t tell you that?” Mr. Draznowsky was their gym teacher.
“He just gave me this locker number and combination. I guess he assumed I knew what to do.”
Emily lowered her eyes. Had Courtney ever attended a normal school? Had she ever been a member of a sports team, or played an instrument in band, or had to plot the best route to get to each class on time? Aria’s words of caution gushed through Emily’s mind again. Okay, so they didn’t know Courtney, but what was Emily supposed to do, ignore her?
“Uh, I have an extra pair of shorts and a T-shirt,” Emily offered, turning to her locker and digging to the bottom. She handed Courtney a swim T-shirt and a wrinkled pair of gym shorts. “The shirt isn’t technically for gym class, but I think they’ll let you slide for today.”
“Oh my God, thank you.” Courtney held the T-shirt at arm’s length. It had a picture of a swimming pool and starting blocks. “You rock the block,” she read aloud, then looked at Emily quizzically.
“My swim coach gave it to me for making captain this year,” Emily explained.
Courtney’s eyes widened. “Captain? Impressive.”
Emily shrugged. She had mixed feelings about being captain of the swim team, especially since she’d considered quitting not so long ago.
Courtney spread out the gym shorts, noticing the school crest silkscreened near the hem. “What’s this thing on the shield? A little penis?”
Emily burst out laughing. “That’s a shark. Our mascot.”
Courtney squinted. “A shark? Seriously?”
“I know. It looks more like a worm. Or a…penis.” Emily felt funny saying the word aloud. “Now that you mention it, this freshman guy dresses up in a big foam shark costume at swim meets. And by the end, the top of the costume always gets kind of…limp.”
A group of girls pushed their way out to the gym. Courtney leaned against the metal lockers. “This school is so weird. Penis sharks, that peppy music that’s played between classes…”
“Don’t get me started on that.” Emily groaned. “Sometimes they forget to turn it off once the period begins. And it’s, like, blaring while we’re trying to take a math test. Did you meet Ms. Reyes from the office? She wears those big oval pink-tinted glasses?”
Courtney laughed. “She registered me.”
“She’s in charge of the PA music,” Emily explained, talking over the sounds of a couple of toilets flushing in the bathrooms adjacent to the changing area. “And whenever the music runs long, I always picture her asleep at her desk.”
“Either that or she’s distracted because she’s staring at the oil paintings she has of that little rat dog.”
“That’s her Chihuahua!” Emily laughed. “Sometimes she brings it to pep rallies. She made it a Rosewood Day blazer and skirt outfit—even though it’s a boy!”
Courtney’s shoulders shook with giggles. Emily’s insides felt shiny and glowing. Courtney sat down on the bench and unbuttoned her blazer. “And I keep seeing lots of posters for a game called Time Capsule. What’s that all about?”
Emily stared at a wad of green gum someone had stuck in the grout of the beige tiles on the wall. “It’s just a stupid game,” she murmured. Time Capsule was a longstanding Rosewood Day tradition, and by coincidence, the very first time Emily had ever entered Ali’s backyard was when she’d tried to steal Ali’s Time Capsule piece. Ali had been unusually friendly to them that day, telling Emily and the others that someone else had stolen it already. Emily had only recently learned that someone had been Jason. He’d then given it to Aria, who’d kept it hidden for years.
A beep sounded from inside Courtney’s satchel. She pulled out her iPhone and rolled her eyes. “CNN again,” she said dramatically. “They really want to interview me. I even got a call from Anderson Cooper himself!”
“Wow!” Emily grinned. Someone in one of the other aisles slammed their locker closed.
Courtney dropped her phone back in her bag. “Yeah, but I don’t really want to talk to the press. I’d rather talk to you guys.” She ran her hands along the initials WD + MP that someone had etched into the wooden bench. “You were with my sister the night she…the night that Billy…?”
A shiver ran up Emily’s spine. “Yeah. We were.”
“It’s so scary.” Courtney’s voice cracked. “To think he killed Jenna Cavanaugh and Ian. And he sent you all those awful notes.”
The heat whirred on, sending little motes of dust swirling around the room.
“Wait a minute,” Emily said suddenly, a thought occurring to her. “Billy sent me a picture of Ali, Jenna, and a blond girl. I thought it was Naomi Zeigler—but it was you, wasn’t it?”
Courtney picked at a Chiquita banana sticker someone had affixed to the locker. “Probably. I met Jenna during my one visit here. She was the only person in Rosewood who knew about me.”
Two girls in Rosewood Day gym shorts and tees strolled past Emily and Courtney, glancing at them briefly before looking away. Emily’s mind whirled. So Jenna had known something, just like they’d suspected. Billy-as-A had also sent Emily to Jenna’s house a few weeks ago so she could witness Jenna’s fight with Jason DiLaurentis. Maybe they were arguing because Jason wanted to make sure Jenna kept the secret about Courtney. But what did that have to do with Billy?
The teacher banged on the door and called everyone to line up in their squads for indoor basketball. “God, I’m such a downer!” Courtney whispered, shaking her head ruefully. “Sorry I brought all this up. I’m sure it’s weird to talk about it.”
Emily shrugged. “We all should be talking about it more.” She faced Courtney, feeling brave. “And…well, if you ever have any questions about Rosewood—or anything else—I’m here.”
Courtney brightened. “Really?”
“Sure.”
“Maybe we could get together after school tomorrow?” Courtney asked, her face brimming with hope.
“Oh!” Emily started, surprised. The door to the gym swept open, momentarily filling the locker room with the sounds of shouts and bouncing basketballs.
“If it’s too weird, that’s okay,” Courtney said quickly, her face falling. “With, like, Ali and stuff.”
“No, getting together sounds great,” Emily decided. “Want to come over to my house?”
“Okay,” Courtney said.
Emily leaned down, untying her shoelace and then reknotting it. Emily wanted to show more emotion, but she also felt embarrassed, like it would give away too much.
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