This time, “not it” was for Mona Vanderwaal—a dork from down the street whose favorite pastime was trying to befriend Spencer and Alison—and her two freaky friends, Chassey Bledsoe and Phi Templeton. Chassey was the girl who’d hacked into the school’s computer system and then told the principal how to better secure it, and Phi Templeton went everywhere with a yo-yo—enough said. The three stared at the girls from the middle of the quiet, suburban road. Mona was perched on her Razor scooter, Chassey was on a black mountain bike, and Phi was on foot—with her yo-yo, of course.
“You guys want to come over and watch Fear Factor?” Mona called.
“Sorry,” Alison simpered. “We’re kind of busy.”
Chassey frowned. “Don’t you want to see when they eat the bugs?”
“Gross!” Spencer whispered to Aria, who then started pretending to eat invisible lice off Hanna’s scalp like a monkey.
“Yeah, I wish we could.” Alison tilted her head. “We’ve planned this sleepover for a while now. But maybe next time?”
Mona looked at the sidewalk. “Yeah, okay.”
“See ya.” Alison turned around, rolling her eyes, and the other girls did the same.
They crossed through Spencer’s back gate. To their left was Ali’s neighboring backyard, where her parents were building a twenty-seat gazebo for their lavish outdoor picnics. “Thank God the workers aren’t here,” Ali said, glancing at a yellow bulldozer.
Emily stiffened. “Have they been saying stuff to you again?”
“Easy there, Killer,” Alison said. The others giggled. Sometimes they called Emily “Killer,” as in Ali’s personal pit bull. Emily used to find it funny, too, but lately she wasn’t laughing along.
The barn was just ahead. It was small and cozy and had a big window that looked out on Spencer’s large, rambling farm, which had its very own windmill. Here in Rosewood, Pennsylvania, a little suburb about twenty miles from Philadelphia, you were more likely to live in a twenty-five-room farmhouse with a mosaic-tiled pool and hot tub, like Spencer’s house, than in a prefab McMansion. Rosewood smelled like lilacs and mown grass in the summer and clean snow and wood stoves in the winter. It was full of lush, tall pines, acres of rustic family-run farms, and the cutest foxes and bunnies. It had fabulous shopping and Colonial-era estates and parks for birthday, graduation, and just-’cause-we-feel-like-it fêtes. And Rosewood boys were gorgeous in that glowing, healthy, just-stepped-out-of-an-Abercrombie-catalog way. This was Philadelphia’s Main Line. It was full of old, noble bloodlines, older money, and practically ancient scandals.
As they reached the barn, the girls heard giggles coming from inside. Someone squealed, “I said, stop it!”
“Oh God,” Spencer moaned. “What is she doing here?”
As Spencer peeked through the keyhole, she could see Melissa, her prim and proper, excellent-at-everything older sister, and Ian Thomas, her tasty boyfriend, wrestling on the couch. Spencer kicked at the door with the heel of her shoe, forcing it open. The barn smelled like moss and slightly burned popcorn. Melissa turned around.
“What the fu—?” she asked. Then she noticed the others and smiled. “Oh, hey guys.”
The girls eyed Spencer. She constantly complained that Melissa was a venomous super-bitch, so they were always taken aback when Melissa seemed friendly and sweet.
Ian stood up, stretched, and grinned at Spencer. “Hey.”
“Hi, Ian,” Spencer replied in a much brighter voice. “I didn’t know you were here.”
“Yeah you did.” Ian smiled flirtatiously. “You were spying on us.”
Melissa readjusted her long blond hair and black silk headband, staring at her sister. “So, what’s up?” she asked, a little accusingly.
“It’s just…I didn’t mean to barge in…,” Spencer sputtered. “But we were supposed to have this place tonight.”
Ian playfully hit Spencer on the arm. “I was just messing with you,” he teased.
A patch of red crept up her neck. Ian had messy blond hair, sleepy-looking hazelnut-colored eyes, and totally gropeworthy stomach muscles.
“Wow,” Ali said in a too-loud voice. All heads turned to her. “Melissa, you and Ian make the kuh-yoo-test couple. I’ve never told you, but I’ve always thought it. Don’t you agree, Spence?”
Spencer blinked. “Um,” she said quietly.
Melissa stared at Ali for a second, perplexed, and then turned back to Ian. “Can I talk to you outside?”
Ian downed his Corona as the girls watched. They only ever drank super-secretively from the bottles in their parents’ liquor cabinets. He set the empty bottle down and offered them a parting grin as he followed Melissa outside. “Adieu, ladies.” He winked before closing the door behind him.
Alison dusted her hands together. “Another problem solved by Ali D. Are you going to thank me now, Spence?”
Spencer didn’t answer. She was too busy looking out the barn’s front window. Lightning bugs had begun to light up the purplish sky.
Hanna walked over to the abandoned popcorn bowl and took a big handful. “Ian’s so hot. He’s, like, hotter than Sean.” Sean Ackard was one of the cutest guys in their grade and the subject of Hanna’s constant fantasies.
“You know what I heard?” Ali asked, flopping down on the couch. “Sean really likes girls who have good appetites.”
Hanna brightened. “Really?”