•

"Turn Of The Shoe"

It felt a lot like Alison's funeral — what happened afterwards. In a shared state of worry — with the weight of A's last explosive text in their inboxes — they gathered. They weren't in their funeral attire like they had been a year ago, but it happened within the first few hours after Wilden's funeral like before. This time, their discussion took place in The Brew, having become their favourite haunt; it helped that they could stay really late thanks to Emily and had a fast-track supply of coffee to ease them throughout the late hour.

Aria wanted to set the record straight first — cancel out every possible suspect they could before the police accused them of murder. The first was Ashley Marin. Aria asked Hanna, "So, when was the last time your mom called you from New York?"

"I don't know—" Hanna was immediately frustrated at everything. She slammed her hand down on the table and said irritably at her friend, "The day before yesterday, I haven't really been keeping track."

"You should," Halle advised. In the middle of the high-top table they sat at, they had a collection of half-drunk drinks and an assortment of foods. Halle had just finished her sweet potato fries when she spoke. "Just in case."

Emily agreed, holding onto her cappuccino cup. She asked, "Have you checked your phone?"

"She called me from the hotel room, Emily." Hanna bore her deadly stare at the girl next to her, raving lowly as she flung up her hand clutching her mother's mobile. "She has no cell!"

Coolly, Halle reasoned, "Okay — we need to know how A got from New York and planted that—" she glanced at the phone Hanna set down, "in Wilden's coffin."

"And who was that freaky woman at the funeral," Hanna put in, still irate.

"Which freaky woman?" Aria asked, her eyebrows arched with her pointed comment. "There was a couple, Han."

"Jenna for one," Halle inserted, most obviously.

"Yeah," Aria jumped in to gossip. "Like who was the new guy? I thought she was with Shana," she said.

"They're not in the open yet," Emily considered.

"Like..." Halle made a show of sticking out her hand and forcing her wrist to go limp. "...in the open?"

"I was talking about with people knowing they know each other," Emily responded. "But, yeah — that too."

"Oh, god!" Hanna groaned, stressed beyond belief. "You guys are so frustrating! No — I meant the one in black, with the veil, and she was just diving into that town car."

"I don't know," Halle replied, causing Hanna to groan again and pinch the bridge of her nose at the half-dismissal. "But I sure as hell got freaky vibes from what Barry said about Wilden."

"He flat-out told you Wilden had something to take to the DA?" Aria recalled.

"It's gotta be my notebook, right?" Halle said, wanting clarification she wasn't the only one thinking it. "Like, it's the one new thing he had."

"It's gotta be," Aria said. She shivered, uncomfortable, as she mentioned, "And he was gonna use it frame one of us for Alison's murder." She added, "Maybe all of us."

"Or one of you and me," Halle countered. "Given half the chance, I think Wilden would've played eenie-meanie with you guys and had me down for covering it up."

"Which is what you think you did anyway?" Hanna inserted carefully, causing the three to snap their heads towards her. "What? You had that nightmare, remember?" she said directly to Halle. "You covered it, right?"

"Yeah," said Halle quietly.

"So he's not wrong," Hanna explained.

"He's not right either," Aria said sternly. "We talked about this — misremembering, remember? We don't know what's the truth and what isn't," she concluded with a certainty.

"Like if Ali's dead," Hanna remarked.

Emily scoffed. She was not about to have this conversation again. Wanting to move on, she turned to face Spencer, who was silently playing with everyone's leftovers. "Speaking of freaks," Emily began, "where's Melissa?"

While four of them waited for answer, Spencer gave none. The Hastings girl was too busy — too wrapped up in whatever she was currently doing. Her concentration sparked concern, especially when they recounted how Spencer hadn't commented on anything said since the conversation flipped.

Emily called for her attention. "Spencer?"

Spencer looked up, stunned at the slightly elevated voice. "What?"

"Where's your sister been?" Emily asked her.

"... DC," stated Spencer, rather unsure at the questioning as she hadn't been playing attention. "She's interviewing for an internship," she said and went back to moving the fries.

"With who, Satan?" retorted Hanna spitefully.

Halle rolled her eyes and quipped, "They ain't hiring until Wilden has been processed."

"Wait a second." Aria caught onto the hidden accusation beneath Emily's initial question and asked her, "You think that Melissa was the woman in black?"

"Do you?" Emily threw back it back at her. "Melissa's names been coming up a lot, it's not a far reach to make."

"I didn't really get a good look at her," Aria started reasonably before she fell into the frantic panic she usually did over the next big thing dawning on them. She said, through a gritted jaw, "I was trying not to wet myself when that new cop made a beeline over for us."

"Okay, well, he can beeline all he wants," Hanna pushed in. "We didn't do anything to Wilden."

From her spot, at the end of the table, Halle refused to meet anyone's eyes. She kept thinking of the ringing in her ears when the gun went off; how Wilden actually looked fearful of her when she wielded his gun. Her hands started to shake, the blood beating in her fingertips, so Halle hid them in her lap. When she did, her eyes lowered and connected with what Spencer was building while Aria argued with Hanna.

Aria whispered. "Except for throw his car in a lake and leave fingerprints all over it when A pulled it out."

"Water destroys evidence, Aria, we've been over this," Hanna said, rolling her eyes.

"It wasn't in the water, Hanna — not when we found it in the street," fought Aria strongly.

Halle was focused on Spencer's movements. On the table's surface, she had constructed an eight-tower stack of fries; beside it were four plump cherry-tomatoes. Extending from there were six carrots in two lines of three while two pea pods laid just off from the first scene of food and between the food basket in the middle, a further cherry-tomato nearby. She saw Spencer pick up several more fries, and Halle finally snapped.

"Okay, what the hell are you doing?" Halle asked her.

"With my french fries," Aria added, utterly confused by what she had been alerted to.

Easily, as she added the same cold fries in a line leading to the basket, Spencer explained, "I'm recreating the geography around the lodge to see if it's even possibly that the person who jumped out of the plane could rescue you four—" she briefly glanced up to acknowledge them, "from a burning building."

"And Mona," Halle abruptly said.

Spencer's gaze went to her right, landing on Halle. "What?"

"And Mona," repeated the curly-haired girl. Halle said, "Mona was in that burning building too." She met the puzzled looks her friends gave her, the surprise clear on their expressions. "What?" Halle huffed and rolled her eyes. "Yeah, don't like her ass but she still almost fried with us."

As Hanna picked up the mozzarella stick from within the basket, she remarked, "Besides, I told you, I heard two voices when I was carried out."

"Wait—" Spencer appeared rather startled. "Put down the mozzarella stick."

"It's mine!" Hanna argued, shrill in her defiance.

"No, it's not." Spencer plucked it straight out of Hanna's grasp and said simply, "It's a plane." She put down the deep-fried item back down it its prior spot, and Spencer expanded, "I'm thinking the same person I saw running through the woods is the second voice you heard, helping Alison."

"Okay," Halle tried to absorb her friend's behaviour like it was normal. Only, it seemed to create a barrier to knowledge, and Halle ended up saying, "Yeah, but the only way that'd work is if we went back and timed it all out." She considered the scene and quipped, "Mozzarella-to-fry ain't exactly to scale."

"This is just to get a better idea," Spencer defended. "I never said it was accurate. Plus—" Spencer moved another fry to join the line she had already built, "this is just to retrace everyone's steps."

"Spencer," Aria said seriously, capturing the girl's attention, "you can stack all the food that you want, it wasn't Alison."

"Wait, why are you so sure?" Hanna asked, floored by the refusal.

Aria snapped at her, "Because I went to her funeral."

"Twice," muttered Halle, putting two fingers up.

"We never saw a body," Hanna miraculously defended, arms flying out in exclamation.

"—Oh, god!" Aria groaned, throwing her head back as Emily spoke over her.

"—We've been through this." Emily closed her eyes and took a breath before she said to Hanna quite flatly, "Okay, you were oxygen-deprived."

"She wasn't," Hanna shot back, hand out towards Spencer. She focused all her attention on Spencer now, pleading adamantly for one of them to agree. "And you saw her, right?"

Looking up from she had been doing, Spencer kept her lips together. She didn't speak. She didn't answer, and that was all Hanna needed to launch into another aggravated exclamation.

"Oh, so now I'm the crazy one," Hanna understood bitterly. Gimme my mozzarella," she said and snatched up her desired food.

"Okay—" Spencer ventured out her hand, took it from Hanna's grip again and offered up some empathy, "it looked a lot like Alison, and I'm not ruling it out."

"Wait—" Halle seemed stuck. She hadn't gotten past Hanna's fierce refusal to believe Alison was dead, and Halle called her out on it, "Why are you so sure she is alive?"

Shocked, Hanna began to stumble and avert her eyes away. "What? I never— I never said I was sure, what do you mean?" She attempted to put it on Halle but failed terrible. Now, everyone was looking directly at her.

"Han, you just said," Aria pointed out.

Sheepishly. Hanna bore a grimace and admitted, "I did a Halle."

"You did a, what?" questioned Emily, brows knitted together.

"A Halle," Hanna confirmed again.

"Is that a good or bad thing?" Halle asked the blonde. "I wanna know, in case I should be offended."

Hanna heaved a sigh and fought back an eye-roll. She said to them, "It means I had a memory come back to me. From That Night," she lastly revealed.

"You what?" Spencer asked in surprise.

"Why didn't you say anything?" asked Emily.

"I'm saying it now, aren't I?" shot out Hanna, not liking being the focal point of her group of best friends.

Cautiously, Spencer wondered, "Well, what do you remember?"

"I, uh... It was after Spencer woke us up and we all went looking for Ali," Hanna told them, suddenly awkwardly and her cheeks stung pink. "I went to front, right? Down the driveway," she recalled, and they followed. "Anyway, I must've drunk way too much 'cos I could barely stand and..."

"You fell," Halle gently finished. She met Hanna's gaze and said, "Yeah, I remember."

"Well, I swear when I fell, I opened the gates," Hanna recounted for her friends. "And when they opened, I saw a car picking Alison up." She shook her head, still fuzzy from the memory coming back the way it did. "She looked straight at me and did that thing she did, when she puts her finger to her lips and you know it's a secret."

"Hanna, why didn't you say anything?" Halle, hurting for the blonde, claimed, "I found you, like, right after."

"Because I thought I made it up," Hanna responded. Her hand was out as she spoke. "When I looked up again, the gates were shut — I thought I was drunk or hallucinating. But if..." She stopped to take a pause. "If it was Alison at the lodge, then it's real and she's alive. I didn't imagine it and every time we've seen her since... it's her," she said and it sounded just like a plea from a desperate person. "We've all seen her."

It was true. They all had. All five had seen Alison since her death, and while it happened, she felt so real — like Alison floated in and out of the space with a golden halo around her. But when it was over, reality sunk in again. Alison was dead. They buried her body, and she never came to visit either of them. It was their imaginations running wild with romanticised version of their frenemy.

"So you're—" Aria pointedly flitted between Hanna and Spencer to ask very specifically, "saying that you think her mom is laying out all of her old pillows and toys because she's expecting her return?"

"It was one," Emily inserted, closed into herself. Her hands were clasped together now, her chin rested upon them. "Toy," she explained. "A clown."

"God, Emily, please," Aria practically begged, "not you, too."

Seemingly, Halle agreed although she had her own reasons to believe Alison wasn't alive. The crunch sounded in her brain, swelling, throbbing. She cringed every time it happened and as Halle shivered it from her, she remarked, "The only clowns are us, being sucked back into this again."

"We got another A-text, Halle," Spencer reminded. It hadn't even been two weeks since Spencer ripped Halle and Emily apart for wanting to find out what happened to Alison, and now Spencer had done a complete one-eighty. Only, this time Alison wasn't the root-cause. Them being potentially getting framed for murder — all of the murders — was. "What do expect us to do?"

"What if — now bare with me here, it's way out there," Halle patronised greatly, "what if we ignore it? What if we don't do what A wants and dive into the mess again?" She posed to them, "What happens then?"

"We get hijacked like we did last year," Emily reminded bluntly. "Do you not remember when we blocked A's number?" She stressed, "They got to you at work until you played the game again."

"We have to do this," said Hanna firmly.

Shrugging, Aria let out, "We don't really have a choice."

"Hey, guys—" Mona's arrival couldn't have come at a worse time. She strolled in rather politely and joined them at their table, standing at the edge with her hands flat to the wood. "Sorry I'm late," she sincerely said, then launched into their A-troubles. "So, I've been thinking a lot about the Alison-question."

Mona had been oblivious to how stares turned to heated glares narrowed at her, but Hanna made certain she knew. "Really?" Angrily, Hanna fired out an attack, "I've been thinking a lot about how you put my mom's phone in Wilden's casket."

At Hanna's back, the blond having gotten up and turned away, Mona said slighted, "Nice." Her eyes travelled around the table — at how they all refused to meet her gaze. They wouldn't even look at her. When they began to rise and collect up their belongings, Mona proceeded to plead with the girls, "What else do I have to do to prove to you that we're in this together?"

"Prove?" Halle had stopped sucking her teeth to focus on Mona. She was absolutely floored by the audacity exhibited in the coffee shop. "I'm sorry, have I hit my head again and missed something?" She asked, jaw set in irritation, "What have you done to prove anything?"

"I gave you that chip from his dash-cam," Mona inserted strongly, pleading with them, "you were all there when my computer was hacked." She saw how the girls banded together, unimpressed; it was them one end of the long table and her on the other. "I have cashed in all of my 'get-out-of-hell-free' cards, so if you don't believe me, and you still think I'm keeping secrets," she rushed to defend herself, "go out there and search that RV for yourselves."

Spencer eyed her in intrigue. Her interest had truly been piqued, and Mona seemed to notice.

"What?" Mona demanded.

Arching her eyebrows, a glance was shot back at her friends before she landed back on Mona. "Lead the way," she said. "We'll follow."

•

While her friends dithered in the cold, Halle felt hot. Her cheeks burned. She was sure her back was leaking sweat, bleeding into her white racer-top. It made her jacket cling to her back and it got uncomfortable pretty soon into standing around for Mona. It hadn't mattered how much the freezing air bit at and around all skin exposed, but Halle was roasting.

Emily was particularly shifty. Fully alerted, her senses were in overdrive. Her back stayed tense. Her head shot around every few seconds, fists closed up into fists. "Why are we doing this now?" she asked.

"Because," Spencer started, hands shoved into her pockets for warmth, "if we wait until later, she can get back here before us and purge."

A distant snap caused Emily 's head to shoot towards her. Her eyes bulged as she panicked, "What was that?"

"It was a bird — a beaver," Spencer listed, not bothered by it. "Do you need to wait in the car?" she asked, noting Emily's extremely skittish behaviour.

From behind them, Mona's boots crunched against the dirt. She crossed the dark road to join them. In her hand, she held the flashlight but didn't speak a word. She parted the five as she walked between them, a miffed glare on her face.

As they began to follow her, Emily whispered, "I'm just saying, I don't even know what we're supposed to be looking for."

Mona picked up the pace. Every step she took was made with precise determination. If this was what the girls needed to believe her — to accept her — then Mona would give it to them — no arguing, no hesitation. In her stride, she unlocked the padlock and once it was released, Mona gripped the gate and reeled it back, panic slowly setting in at the reveal.

Nothing.

The five of them were left staring at nothing. Behind the gate was an abandoned lot, large in space and enclosed between three walls and the gate. It was entirely bare, and Mona fell apart over it.

"Oh, my god," she uttered, with a sharp inhale. "Oh, my god — it's gone."

Instantly harsh, Aria snapped, "What do you mean, it's gone?"

Sarcastically, Halle couldn't help but motion at the empty space they were all meant to be looking at. There was nothing there. The RV was gone.

Mona turned back to them in a flash. Genuine shock consumed her features and she looked as though she might cry out of frustration. "This is where I left it," she assured them poorly. Her shrill, begging voice twisted easily into what the five believed was another try at manipulation. Mona looked to Hanna and begged, "I mean, you saw me, Hanna." She got closer to them, rambling off her pleas. "I haven't been here since, I swear." Helplessly, she said, "Somebody stole it."

"Somebody?" Spencer scoffed, disbelieving.

Hanna accepted in a shaky breath, disappointed by Mona yet again. The hurt it put on her heart was too great to bear anymore. What she got in return was being let down time and time again. Looking at Mona — holding that stare — Hanna couldn't speak. At least not to her. She shook her head and said to her friends beside her, "Let's get out of here."

Breaking off first, Hanna refused to look back. Spencer went next, following very close behind the blonde, while the other three joined afterwards. Aria shot a glare at Mona the entire time they walked past her and didn't let up until Mona was no longer in sight. Yet, Mona didn't give up.

Desperately, Mona cried out, "That somebody wasn't me!" She chased after them, pleading with every step, but eventually was silenced when none of them listened. They ignored her — denied her any chance of redemption. So, Mona folded in on herself and tried to flee to her car to escape the judgement.

As the five split — Hanna and Spencer to one car ahead of them all — Halle stayed with Aria and Emily, who had rolled her eyes when Mona walked around them. Halle was about to open the driver's door when Aria's hand shot out and stopped her.

"Wait," Aria said. Her suspicious eyes intensely locked onto Mona. The three of them watched their ex-tormentor shamefully keep her head ducked as she neared her vehicle. She jumped, startled, as Spencer and Hanna drove by in their car. Then, Mona got inside her own with the flashlight still in her grasp.

Surveying the car, they waited for Mona to drive off but it never happened. The lights had come on — Mona's keys having being turned — but the car was still stationed. After a few seconds, the same red lights flickered on and off. It creeped them out, their brows furrowing at the several flashes of red light before it stopped unexpectantly.

"What's going on?" Aria asked, already starting to walk towards the car. Her friends followed, curious themselves. In the dark, with eyes focused through the back window to Mona's vehicle, they saw trashing silhouettes.

A shot of bright white light beamed through the glass then dropped suddenly. The driver's door tore open and Mona tumbled out with a loud thud. "Aah! Aaah..." She began coughing, spluttering as she rolled out.

"Mona!" Halle called out, fearful instantly.

"Oh, my gosh," Emily said, sprinting to the injured girl on the ground. "Mona!"

"Mona!" Aria shouted, just as the door shut. The three ran to Mona, who coughed violently and clutched onto her neck. Mona was on her knees, hunched over as she continued coughing violently. "Are you okay?"

The lines between hatred and concern blurred. Aria and Emily rushed to Mona's aide, sweeping in to assist her. In her fury — at another missed opportunity — Halle banged her hand furiously on the back window. She kept banging. Inside, she could only make out a broad figure in a black hoodie and that Ali-mask that freaked them out as the car spurred off. "Asshole!"

When Halle turned, Aria and Emily had managed to peel a vulnerable Mona from off the dirt. Her face was pale, drained of colour, and from where her neck showed, a red line formed nastily. "Is she okay?— Mona, are you good?" Halle asked, her facing them, with her back to the road. They were too busy helping Mona, checking she alright to see the white headlines coming towards them.

An almighty gasp ripped from Emily's throat. Her eyes grew large, bright light shining in her face. She gasped again, her hands darting out to push Halle to the left, out of the way, while she then dove to the right, saving Aria and Mona as she pulled them down with her. As they fell, Emily hit her shoulder on a rock. She screamed. Her cry tore through the air. Agony flew up her shoulder and caused her to scream out again. "Ohh!— Oh! — Ohh!"

•

Her entire shoulder was inflamed. It stung a wicked red and an evil violet-blue, deepening with every hours that ticked by. It swarmed the skin there, growing, building over time. Emily tossed and turned all night, unable to get comfortable, which caused Pacha to grumble and take himself over to the olive two-seater under the window. Halle did her best to make Emily's night more easy. Every hour, Halle was up like clockwork and traded the ice-pack for another, bringing it upstairs for Emily as she wept.

Around half six, it was acceptable for Emily to head to the Brewster's bathroom. After Halle had washed and brushed her teeth, Emily had gone for a shower. Halle used the freedom of her bedroom to get ready, changing in the privacy of her closet before there was a knock at her door.

"Knock, knock," said Luisa Brewster despite the door being open and her two steps into the room already. She smiled when Halle appeared out of her closet, buckling the belt around her jeans. "Morning, honey."

"Morning," Halle responded. "Oh—" Halle blinked and said, "sorry about Em being the shower, I just figured Riley would use your bathroom."

"That's fine, an non-issue," Luisa assured. "Are you girls okay?"

"Yeah." Halle crossed the room, grabbing the books she'd need from her built-in cabinets for the school-day. "Why?"

"It's just you were up and down a lot last night," Luisa stated. "One more time and I think your dad was gonna come down check on you."

"Sorry, I didn't think we were that loud." Halle worried, "Did we wake Riley?"

"Oh, no," Luisa dismissed that. "You know Riles, sleeps through a thunder-storm."

"Right—" Halle nodded and told her mother, "Em took a fall last night, hurt her shoulder — we were icing it."

"All night?" Luisa asked in shock. "Wow, that must be some fall."

"She's alright now, just wanted to be safe," Halle lied with a smile.

"Okay then, I'll see you girls downstairs," Luisa said.

"Yeah," Halle replied. She wanted her mother out of her bedroom as soon as possible. Halle wouldn't chance her mother seeing Emily's awful bruise in person. So, she was extremely grateful when Luisa Brewster turned and left the room.

Within the next forty seconds, Emily came hurrying in. Wrapped up in a fluffy towel, Emily fretted the same thing Halle did. "I stayed in the bathroom until I heard her leave," Emily told her best friend. She shut the door carefully, as not to cause greater suspicion, and gifted Halle a better look at her injured shoulder.

Halle frowned as the violent bruising. "Oh, my god... Em."

Emily turned and sighed. "I know." She winced as she moved but claimed through a clenched jaw, "The shower helped, I think."

Venturing into her closet again, Halle grabbed at a few items she had put aside and returned. "Here," she said.

"Thanks." Emily accepted the pile of clean clothes and set them on the bed. Every time she moved — walked, lifted, grabbed — she winced. She whined in pain, her shoulder writhed at the skin like it was being both pinched and stretched. She saw Halle's wary expression, and Emily tried to reassure, "Hal, it's not that bad, I've had worst pain. I had a hole in my stomach, remember?"

"It wasn't a hole," Halle responded. It was exactly how Emily knew she would — that saying it was a hole, like Hanna had wrongly done so many times — Halle would shut it down. It caused them to smile, sharing in some light-heartedness despite the terrible condition Emily was in. "You're an ass," Halle bit, rolling her eyes to cover her amusement.

"Shut up," Emily laughed. "You were the one last night telling me how nasty-looking it was every time we iced it."

"Yeah, 'cos it is," Halle said bluntly. "It's real nasty-looking." She commented, watching Emily reach for the Ibuprofen gel and squirt some into her hands, "And I'm kinda the king of injures."

Emily used her opposite hand to stretch up and rub the ointment into her bruised shoulder. She whimpered, her top set of teeth digging into her bottom lip to supress the whines. "What—" Emily sharply inhaled as a jolt of pain sprung where she pressed, "did Dr Sullivan say about what Wren said?"

"Oh... about me self-harming?" Halle appeared to be distant, too focused on the bruise than her own healing hand. She watched as Emily swallowed back her whimpers and failed to cover all the surface the bruising skin. Halle swore it got darker within the span of this conversation. "She thought it was irresponsible and 'he's not in any position to make such a conclusion'," Halle quoted it back. "She wanted me to write a complaint."

"You're kidding?" asked Emily, snapping her eyes to her friend. Her arms was still contorted around her back as she did so.

"Nope." Halle shook her head and said, "I'm just glad I'm eighteen and she doesn't have to share that with my parents." She arched her eyebrows and commented snarkily, "Mainly my mom."

The very caused Emily to shiver. "God, I'd hate to think what your mom would do if she found out."

"Probably tell Spencer's mom and finally get his ass thrown to the curb," remarked Halle. She heard Emily hum, agreeing. It was shortly followed by another sharp hiss, and Halle examined the scene over. Emily could barely reach the centre point of the bruise where it was its most dark and painful. Emily kept missing and swiping under underneath, groaning as she did so. "Oh, give over," Halle ordered, rolling her eyes. She extended out her hand and said, "Come on, you're gonna be more annoying to me if you're in pain so give it to me."

In her towel, Emily clutched at the folded in top around her chest. She crossed her arms as Halle squeezed out a palmful amount of the gel. Halle warmed it up in her hands, rubbing them together, before she pressed it to Emily's hurt shoulder. Initially, Emily flinched, "Oh— sorry."

"It's okay, you're in pain," Halle sympathized. She massaged the clear gel into the area, rotating her thumbs to really get it into all the muscle and joint of her shoulder.

Emily felts her eyes close. She hummed, "Hmm, you're good at that."

Halle chuckled and said, "Glad six months of physio was good for something."

"It's much better than the last massage I had," Emily joked lightly, and Halle laughed.

"Well, I'm not working with A," Halle jested back, rubbing her thumbs into the shoulder.

"Thankfully," replied Emily, her eyes fluttering closed at the perfect pressure.

Enjoying it for a few more moments, Emily tensed. She tried to keep the urge to cry back, but when she spoke up, Emily's voice cracked. "Halle..." She opened her eyes and asked, "What if I can't swim at this meet tomorrow?"

Carrying on with massaging the gel in, Halle almost dismissed the worry entirely. "Em, you're gonna be fine. It's..." She drifted off, getting a sense through the new tightness of Emily's shoulder that something wasn't right. Rounding on her friend, Halle perched right in front of her on the bed. "Is it that bad?"

Emily's eyebrows furrowed sadly. She admitted on the verge of tears, "I think I've really hurt myself. I can barely move my shoulder."

"Then go to the doctors," Halle encouraged without hesitation. "Call them and go this afternoon, I'll drive you."

"What if they ask how I did it?" asked Emily, her bottom lip wobbling as she spoke.

"You tell the the truth," Halle said. "A car came at you, you dove out of the way and you landed on a rock." She put her hand on Emily's bare knee and urged, "Em, there's nothing wrong with what happened, you can tell the truth."

"And when my mom drags me down to the station to make a report?" Emily fired back, broken and shaky. "What do I say then? What colour was the car? Do I pretend like it wasn't Mona's?" Her voice rose. "That A didn't try to mow us down last night?"

"Then—" Halle took a moment to think, exhaling forcibly. She glanced back to Emily's worrisome, almost ashen face, and Halle felt her heart give out. She enclosed her hand around Emily's knee and rubbed smoothing circles with the pad of her thumb. "You tell them you fell of your bike and landed on the rock instead." Halle had melted entirely for Emily into a puddle of softness, and she advised, "Don't lie about everything, we need to still know we can tell the truth when it matters."

"I don't know who I am if I'm not lying nowadays," Emily confessed weakly.

"You're Em," Halle said simply, like that only explained it all.

The smile Halle gifted Emily was the gentlest one. Her mouth had softened, her head tilting up slightly. It made her dark eyes appear bigger, full of wonder and a tenderness only few had known and gotten close to knowing. Emily had many times touched such shown to her in that moment and with it came the trust that Halle wouldn't ever let anything bad happen to her. It grew from a place of helplessness; of knowing that it hadn't matter how hard Halle tried, she couldn't protect the people she loved from the world — or the world wanting to hurt them.

But the stare went on longer than expected and silence befell them. The bedroom was still apart from their breathing, which soon picked up to be more jagged and breathless. Emily searched Halle's eyes for answer to it. Halle had none but the rush of warmth to her cheeks and the sudden pacing of her heart. It swelled and covered her chest until it felt like it was going to burst out.

PING.

Halle looked away, towards her mobile on the bedside table. "I should get that," she said yet returned her gaze back to Emily. She was surprised to see Emily hadn't moved — hadn't faltered. Emily was unwavering in keeping her eyes locked onto her best friend.

The tension between them was stifling, almost as though there wasn't any air to breathe in. There wasn't enough oxygen in the room to keep them both alive. To keep both hearts beating as wildly as they were. So Halle decided to flee. She panicked and wished to block it out.

Gulping, Halle moved back. "I—" Her eyes looked around, back for the phone. She stood up fast. Her legs hadn't been like jelly nor had her knees buckled, but Halle had found it hard to move. Every instinct within her was telling her to go sit back down with Emily and see out that moment. Yet, Halle wouldn't. "It might be important," she reasoned, mainly with herself, as she picked up the device to check.

Mona found her car.
Dumped behind the school.
She's freaked.
From: Aria

Emily followed her. She looked at Halle from over her shoulder and asked softly, "Is it?"

"Uh, kinda." Halle turned back around, eventually facing Emily again with an even heart-rate again. "It's Aria, she said Mona found her car but she's messed up over it."

"So, nothing good," said Emily with a sigh.

"Nothing good," Halle reaffirmed. Clearing her throat, Halle noted the towel and considered the time. "Uh, I'm gonna— I'll give you space to get ready," she said. "Feel free to use whatever you want." She pointed to the dresser and added, "My makeup's all there."

"Thanks," Emily replied gratefully, smiling.

"Okay, I'll see you downstairs," said Halle.

Grabbing her bag from the bed, Halle made a brisk exit. Her hand clutched at the doorknob and she shut the door firmly behind her. A weird, fluttering feeling stirred up in her stomach when it closed. Her cheeks felt warm, but as Halle raised her hand to touch them, she was surprised. They weren't just warm. They were hot.

Roasting.

Half-tempted to go back inside and ask what the hell was going on — what was Emily doing her — Halle's hand went back to the doorknob but hesitated. A pause was put to her plan. The temptation slowly slipped from her. Shaking her head, Halle let go of both the doorknob and the feeling. She adjusted the strap of her bag and continued to leave.

Pacha greeted her happily when she entered the kitchen. "Morning, sweet boy," she met, cooing at him. Her hands threaded through his long hair as she made an excited fuss of him. She looked up, seeing her family in the kitchen also. "Morning."

"Morning," Riley cheerily said, a bright smile on her face as she ate her cocopuffs. Her hair was swept up into buns with two curls framing her cherub face.

"Hey, you." Nick Brewster, back from his New York trip, crossed the room to get to his daughter. With his morning cup of coffee in one hand, he used his free arm to hug her. He squeezed her tight. "Ooh, I've missed you," he declared, with a kiss to her head.

Smiling up at him, at peace more now he had returned home, Halle repeated his affections, "Missed you, too." Happy to wonder, Halle said, "How was New York?"

"It was good," Nick told her. "We went to a musical. You would've liked it," he added as he took a seat at the kitchen table. "It was a good production."

"Oh, really?" Halle asked, still stroking Pacha. She had bent down more to smother his in love now. "What musical?"

"'Anything Goes' — I got you a playbill," Nick informed, motioning to the yellow programme on the table. Before he sipped at his hot drink, he suggested, "Figured we could check it out Christmas break when we go see your nana."

"That sounds great, nana loves musicals—" Halle rose to take a look, but stilled at the sight. The glossy playbill laid neatly on top of this morning's mail, several letters of which were unusually addressed to Halle. She only glimpsed at her name, but was drawn in by the navy blue and deep red emblem in the top corner of the thinnest one.

"You don't have to read them just this second," Luisa gently let out. It left her like a breathless sigh and one glance from Halle knew her mother was certain of the same outcome Halle was herself. "We can wait," Luisa tried.

Nick inserted kindly, "You don't have to do anything you don't want to—"

However, Halle liked to rip the bandaid off as soon as she could. As a child, her skin bore the marks of far too many white scars from when she was too eager to pick at scabs, interrupting the healing. She was the same at eighteen. She tore at the flap and ripped open the envelope. She slid the letter out and held her breath.

Dear Ms. Brewster,
Thank you for having expressed an interest in the University of Pennsylvania. We have given careful consideration to your application.
The Committee agrees the credentials you shared as part of your application meet the requirements for admission. However, the College has offered admission to the maximum number of candidates who have been admitted at this time without the risk of oversubscribing the freshmen class.
For this reason, a wait list has been established and you have been selected as one of the applicants to be granted wait list status.

Halle exhaled shakily. She shrunk, deflating on the spot. Her world abruptly felt more unsteady; her future was unclear. Even more uncertain. This ground was uncharted. The territory she'd have to cross was unknown. Halle knew it was coming, but she hadn't been prepared for the winding she'd get from reading it printed with her own eyes.

Luisa leaned in. "So..?"

"Nothing we didn't already know," said Halle. She glanced up. "Wait list."

"Okay, but we can do things to ensure you get off the wait list." Instantly, Luisa unleashed her plan of action. She started to rush into it while Halle held back the embarrassment of not wanting to cry. "Does it have a contact number? I can email admission on my lunch-break—"

"No, I can do it," Halle cut in. She was nodding, exaggerating her willingness to comply — to continue. To distract herself, Halle picked up another letter. This one was weightier, thicker than the singular sheet of paper that was in the one from UPenn. She opened it as her parents talked, hopefully the acceptance of one college could exchanged the abandoned feeling she got from another.

"It's early admissions," Nick said calmly.

"Exactly," agreed Luisa, smiling too widely with her hand out. "We can work on this."

Nick said, while Halle scanned the first paragraph of her second letter, "A wait list isn't a no, nor it is a rejection. You said your guidance counsellor prepared you for this outcome and—"

"Yes!" Luisa exclaimed. She faced Halle, still smiling through it all. "And you told us you needed—"

"And I told you," Halle interrupted strongly, "I don't have enough credentials to get in — I'm not as attractive for ivies."

Luisa was shaking her head. "No, no, honey," she said, "that's not true, any college would be so lucky to have you—"

"Then explain this." Going to her mother, Halle slammed the acceptance letter from Kentucky down with a heavy slap. "It's for cheer — a scholarship," explained Halle.

"Congratulations," Nick said proudly. He smiled softly at his daughter, getting up from his chair to hug her. "Hal, that's amazing."

Sweetly, Riley wished, "Congrats, Halle."

"Thanks, Riles," Halle said, appreciative.

In awe, Luisa examined the words she was reading. She read every inch — every word purposefully — to make sure. Her eyes glassed over with joyous tears. She was overwhelmed with pride. "Full-ride?"

"Yeah, I've done it," Halle said, sounding far too jaded for a person who had gotten a full scholarship.

Unsure whether to interrupt, Emily stood in the doorway. She swallowed nervously before she coughed to alert the family from their tense breakfast to her presence. "Uh, good morning," said Emily awkwardly.

"Hey, Em!" Riley greeted chipperly. She smiled at her sister's best friend over her bowl of half-eaten cereal.

Emily smiled, grateful for the break in tension. "Hey, Riley."

"Morning, Emily," Nick said.

"Morning," repeated Emily.

Luisa, smiling, put aside the Kentucky acceptance letter to play host. She asked, "How'd you sleep?"

"Good, thanks," Emily answered. She still sensed the unspoken dispute between Halle and her mother, and Emily chose to show off her greatest strength: overt politeness. "Thanks for having me, Mr and Mrs Brewster."

"You're very welcome, Emily," Luisa graciously responded.

"Oh, and, Emily," Nick reminded her kindly, "you know, in this house..."

"Luisa and Nick, I know," Emily finished knowingly. It hadn't matter how many times Nick Brewster reminded her, it never quite stuck with Emily or the girls. The familiarity was there but the way she was raised — and respect — overwhelmed it. Usually, she just avoided addressing by name or title in general. Emily prayed her best friends would never dare address her parents as anything other than Mr and Mrs Fields.

"Do you two want breakfast? There's coffee," Luisa mentioned, gesturing back to the pot. She rambled off her offering, "I can make you both something if you'd like."

"No." Halle put an end to it firmly. Her clipped tone was noticeable now. The wait list had soured her entirely despite knowing it was evitable. "We're good."

"Thanks, anyway," Emily jumped in to ease whatever could've brewed from Halle's shut-down. Politeness was key to surviving this interaction without Halle getting grounded or cursed out hotly by her mother. Emily reasoned, "I think we're gonna grab something on the way to school."

"Oh, okay." Luisa failed to hide her disappointment. "As long as you girls have something."

"Sure, we gotta go though," Halle said, her thumb aimed at Emily while her eyes enlarged to tell her best friend without words to 'move'.

"Yes," Emily agreed quickly. "Thanks again for letting me staying."

"It's no issue, Emily, you—" Luisa tracked her stare onto Halle, who was rushing to wish Riley a goodbye. The woman briskly said, "We'll talk about this later, okay? Chili and cornbread for dinner, alright?"

"Alright—" Halle pressed smiled told them she didn't want to talk about it but agreed either way. She craned Riley's head back to put a kiss to her forehead. "See you later — bye."

With that goodbye said, Halle rushed Emily out of the kitchen and away from petting Pacha. She ushered her friend all the way out of the front door, snatching her keys off the cabinet nearby. The two stepped outside, onto the porch, and while Halle locked up, Emily found herself inspected Halle's mood.

"Are you good?" Emily asked.

"Yeah, why?" Halle looked up after locking the door and saw Emily was giving her a patient but concerned smile. "Oh, you mean with the wait list — right." Halle swallowed it back, leading the way down the porch steps to her car. Actually indifferent now she had escaped the toxicity of the kitchen, she rattled off, "I knew it was coming. Mr Fazelli told me weeks ago it was gonna happen. My letter confirming it was gonna arrive at some point — it arrived today."

They reached the car, both on opposite sides, and Emily stared at her over the top. "You're not angry? Upset?" She dipped her chin, eyes widening as she implored, "Honestly?"

"No, I'm good," Halle assured her with a strange, forced smile.

"Halle, for as long as I've known you, UPenn has been the dream," Emily continued. "It's been the college. The college," she pressed pointedly.

"And now it's a college," Halle easily countered. She rolled her eyes and said, "Look, I'm still gonna do what I need to until the deadline in May to get myself off the wait list. I'll write the essays, join the clubs, get more involved in school—" Halle gave a shudder at the thought of interacting with others outside her group, "but I don't wanna make it a bigger deal than it is. I've got colleges who want me, I'm not stressing," she said, as she opened the driver's door. She shot Emily a genuine smile, softer than before. "Come on, Em, I can deal with from my mom but I can't from you."

"You're really okay?" Emily wanted to check one last time to be sure.

"I'm okay," Halle replied, only half-lying this time.

•

Boredom hadn't settled yet, but it was incoming. Halle tapped her pen against the pad of her textbook, drifting off from whatever Mr Fitz was passionate about. The words of the novel were starting to blur and meld together. Halle was too distracted. Her mind kept going back to the letters. The ones she had read. The ones she hadn't. The ones she had hopefully yet to receive. Her life was impending trepidation — a constant, swirling sinkhole of anxiety — until May. It wasn't even December yet.

The life she had envisioned was at UPenn. For years, it had been UPenn. That was the goal. That was her mother's goal set up for Halle, and Halle — at points — wanted it. Just as long as it wasn't Rosewood. Halle didn't want to be trapped in Rosewood for another four years. She supposed, after years of reasons and excuses, another place in Pennsylvania was far enough.

Jason had called her out on it. She spent a summer telling him how she hated their town — how she wanted out as soon as she could — but only aimed for more of the same. As much as Halle hated to admit it, Rosewood was a safety net. If she fell, or failed, she could retreat back to what she knew was waiting for her. Rosewood would be there all the time. She could fail within distance of home, come back and live out a somewhat good life without ever trying much again.

UPenn wasn't trying. Kentucky was. It was far enough from Rosewood to actually live and grow and build. And they accepted her. Halle hadn't needed to join clubs she didn't like or interact outside her own smaller world inside the bigger one. She got in with cheer. They accepted her on cheer and would allow her to study history alongside it. It went hand in hand, fit perfectly for her. Yet, that felt as odd for Halle as UPenn did. It sat wrong within her, and suddenly the whole façade of college fell apart. It hadn't made sense to Jason back then. Just like it didn't make sense to Halle right now.

"So..." Mr Fitz's voice pulled Halle from her daze, "tackle the last four chapters." Mr Fitz addressed the class of seniors, "We'll go over the historical context on Monday—"

While he spoke, Emily and Hanna kept a firm eye on Mona. Visibly more distressed than usual, Mona trembled at her desk. Her face was full of sorrow, crumpled up as she held her neck, the redness from where she was strangled last night covered by a silk neckerchief. Strangely, the pair felt for her. Mona hadn't been on the receiving end of A's vitriol, but now — now Mona had switched sides — the girl struggled to accept the newfound fear.

"— And for those of you who are ahead, and can't get enough of doomed romance," Mr Fitz continued as Aria gazed up at him, enchanted by his very existence, "um, pick up East of Eden for extra credit."

The bell rang, and Mr Fitz extended out his arms like he was about to take a bow. He embodied the title of teacher — enjoyed it. The respect he got in buckets, especially from doting students like Aria, he absorbed. From her spot in his class, Aria thought he liked knowing how she had to dunk her head when he finished, like he knew already through the stares that he had ruined everyone else for her.

Students started to collect up their belongings, keen to trade the classroom for the mad rush of the hallways. The girls were getting ready to leave also, shoving their books and items into bags. All except Spencer.

Aria seemed to notice first. "Spence," she called out for her, "you coming?"

Caught off-guard, Spencer's movements were slow. Everything about her was quiet — meeker than usual. "Uh, yeah," said Spencer. "I'll catch up to you guys at lunch."

"Okay, we'll meet you in the courtyard," Mona spoke for them, shocking the group of friends. While Mona turned to leave, all five looked on in confusion. Their brows were pulled together, when did they become five with Mona as a plus-one? When had Mona come to the conclusion she'd be eating lunch with them?

Seeing how Spencer had yet to move still, Halle decided to hang back. She held up her finger, singling she'd be a minute, when they were about to leave. They nodded, understanding, and then left. Cautiously, Halle approached Spencer's desk. She knocked on the wood. "Hey, you."

"Oh, hey." Distracted, Spencer looked up not expecting to be faced with her friend. She floundered, "I—I'm... I'm coming, just..."

"Are you good?" Halle asked her. She safely assumed, "I'm guessing you got your wait list letter today, too."

Spencer's glossy eyes stared up as her, frowning. "You got wait listed?"

"We knew it was coming," Halle put in. She offered out her hand and said, "I'm shocked you did."

"Yeah, yeah—" Spencer lifted her eyebrows and sighed, "it was a shock."

"What did you think about the risk of oversubscribing line?" Halle mocked to make light of the situation. "Sucked, right?"

"Yeah, sucked," grumbled Spencer. She sucked in a shaky breath, shaking her head, "Sorry, Halle, I'm just not ready to talk about it yet."

Halle knew she had overstepped. College was an overly sensitive subject for the Hastings, especially Spencer. Her entire family went to UPenn. That place meant far more to Spencer than it ever did Halle. "Yeah, I get it," Halle said. "I'm here, though." She nudged Spencer's arm softly. "You've got someone on your team, going through it too."

Spencer managed to muster up the tiniest smile. "Yeah."

"Catch you later, okay?" said Halle.

After returning Spencer a small smile, Halle turned to leave. She did a slight step back, slightly stunned to find Mr Fitz still as his desk. Halle noted his presence there was surprising. It had been so quiet the entire time the pair of friends chatted, Halle figured he must have left in the rush of students. But Mr Fitz hadn't. He was packing up and taking his time doing so.

Halle stopped, paused, then forced on a smile for her teacher before she exited. She shook her head, creeped out at just how silent people could be. How silent her teacher could be. Halle had the deadly thought of if she didn't even notice Mr Fitz loitering while she had a one-one conversation with Spencer in the same room, how could she possibly know when A was listening?

Heading towards the cafeteria courtyard, Halle's mind, once more, went to college. The whole thought of it seemed unrealistic. Right now, Halle was trapped in Rosewood and A saw that as an advantage. For as long as Halle was stuck in high school, A made it her own person hell. She couldn't escape it. She was locked in for the next seven months. College would change that.

So what if she got out?

The voice niggled at the far side of her brain. That voice in her head poked at her. It once sounded like Alison but now it sounded more like Halle herself. A smaller, more child-like version of herself that wanted her to get out. To leave Rosewood, and the only way she'd do that was by college. If she wanted to be A-free — Rosewood free — Halle would give herself as many options as she could.

She closed in on the courtyard. Halle found Mona among three of her four friends. They were chatting and had yet to notice her. Seizing that moment, Halle dug out a pen from within her bag and walked straight to the glass-window where the club flyers were hung up. Under the school council sign-up sheet, Halle proudly signed her name on deadline day.

•

Her bed housed the college papers which Halle sorted through for her escape-plan. Her wait list letter from UPenn sat lonesome on the bedside table, discarded for now because it didn't allow what she was currently aiming for. For now, Halle sorted through the paperwork that came with the others, the more cheer-focused colleges. Music, playing from her laptop, became distant as did the email from the school guidance counsellor. Her mind had blocked them out as she focused on the deals she had been dealt and which one could be the next four years of her life.

A fist rapped at he bedroom door, and Halle knew by the lack of noise behind the wood, nor it being forced open, that it was her father.

"Come in," Halle called out. She hit the space bar to pause the song playing when the door opened and Nick Brewster appeared before her. "Hey, kiddo," he met sweetly. "You've been pretty quiet up here. You and the girls not doing anything tonight? It's a Friday," he stated, coming in to sit down on her bed. His eyes tracked over the A4-sheets littered across the duvet, somewhat messily sorted into three piles.

"No, nothing's happening," Halle told him, a pressed smile on her lips. "I'm busy, anyway."

Nick noted the options and decided to go for it. "What do we have then?"

Halle exhaled forcibly and listed, "Kentucky, Louisville, Elmira — all early acceptance for cheer." She added, "Elmira is early action, though." Admittedly, Halle was tempted to snatch at it so she had an definite plan of leaving. It was solid enough for Halle. Tangibility was something she looked for desperately in making this choice.

"So they want a decision by when?" Nick asked her.

"End of December," Halle revealed, her smile still pressed but nearly gone. She was proud of her accomplishments, yet there was suddenly this weight on her chest she had been carrying around all day, putting pressure on her ribcage. She could feel the throbbing of her two healed ones. Halle swore to god it was suffocating her. Then the fuzzy, pumping sensation started up again in her fingers. She contorted and relaxed them, but was unable to get rid of the feeling.

Carefully watching his daughter, it hadn't taken much for Nick to pick on the queues that Halle wasn't necessarily thrilled. "It's not where you want to go," he said.

"But it's a good college for cheer and it's a full-ride like Kentucky, too," Halle was quick to defend her easiest option out. "I wouldn't have to join any clubs I don't have to or—" she rolled her eyes at the laptop screen, "write essays with questions I hate."

Interested, Nick stretched his neck to peak at the question and asked, "What are the options?"

Halle grabbed the laptop and read from the email Mr Fazelli, the guidance counsellor, had sent her. "'Discuss one situation in which you were right and wish you hadn't been.' Or..." Her eyes dropped to the second option. "'What is the lesson you are most proud to have learnt while at high school?'"

"So they're terrible questions," Nick concluded with some humour.

Trying not to cry as the truth of it, Halle let out a chuckle instead and agreed, "Terrible."

Taking a deep breath, Nick waited for it to settle before he spoke again. Calmly, brimming with such great sincerity and overwhelming support, Nick held Halle's gaze and explained, "If you want to accept Elmira, I'm proud of you. If you want to write an essay for UPenn, I'm proud of you. If you want to try for other colleges, I'm proud of you." He took a pause and more pointedly said, "If you want to take a year out, I'm proud of you."

Halle craned her neck back, the vertical crease between her brows appearing. "What? A year out?" Shaking her head, Halle was utterly baffled. "We've never once talked about me taking a year off after I graduate — not once," she said.

"Here's the once," Nick returned with ease. Truthfully, her father told her, "I was speaking to someone at the conference and they said their daughter deferred college for a year to volunteer and do the things she wanted to before they went the following fall — and they're excelling now because they did the work to set themselves up. Mentally," Nick chose to add purposefully. "And I think—" his hand had found his heart, "after everything you've been through, you should take the year. Figure out what you want to do before you dive straight into four years of further education, especially when you're not guaranteed a job after college." He suggested with a smile, "You could defer — take the year to travel, discover who you are, really think about what's going to make you happy."

It felt difficult on her heart to ask, "You don't think I'm happy?"

"I haven't for a while," Nick admitted. "Before Jason, I would say you hadn't been really happy for years, honey." His smile turned gentle. "Think about it."

"What, a whole month of it?" retorted Halle, scoffing. "One month to make a decision that's gonna be my life for the next four years." The mere thought of college made her want to scream and yank out her hair from the root. Halle was halfway defeated from a fight she had yet to be given the chance to throw the first punch in. "It's like I'm set up for failure."

"Whatever you decide, nothing will ever make you a failure," Nick assured her strongly. "I wouldn't ever bet against you not getting what you want in life, Hal." He patted her knee and tried to lighten the atmosphere. "Come on, your mom's done your favourite." His mouth twitched up and said, "She's even chopped extra jalapeños so you can have it as spicy as you like."

Grinning, Halle playfully teased him, "'Cos you're delicate when it comes to spice."

"I do like the sour-cream," he confirmed, laughing. "It's needed for your mom's cooking." Nick squeezed his daughter's knee thrice then rose from the bed to leave. "I'll meet you downstairs," he said at the door.

Halle called him back. "Hey, Dad—" She waited for him to face her, his hand on the wood. "Thanks," she said. "I love you — sky-big," she inserted after, sentimentality at her core.

"I love you sky-big, too," he returned gently. His face fell, softened to a point where Halle couldn't read it. Carefully, Nick asked her, "Hal, you'd tell me if anything else was bothering you? If there was something more than college making you unhappy?"

Again her heart ached, but Halle still managed to speak — or lie. "Yeah, I would."

Nick's flat hand tapped on the door as if to accept what she said. His mouth pressed into a thin line before he mustered up a smile again for her. He said, "Wash you hands please," then slipped away with a melancholy lingering in the distance between them.

It struck Halle down. She tossed her head back, eyes clenched shut and she grumbled. Halle cursed herself out because she was the one doing the burning of the bridges between her and her family. She was actively destroying them in A's wake. It was better for her father — for her family. She protected them by keeping them out of it. They were better off clueless or muddled in the haze of concern. She couldn't risk them knowing more. Jason knew too much — was asking too many questions — and he was thrown down an elevator shaft. So Halle punished herself with loneliness and separation. She cut them with a serrated knife and kept sawing. A took more than Halle every wanted to give, but Halle sacrificed what she could anyway to tame the monster for as long as it would be tamed.

Ready to stand — to go enjoy a family dinner — Halle got to the door when a ping went off. It was an email notification and figuring it was either the guidance counsellor or an admission's office getting back to her, she retreated back to her bed. Another ping went off as Halle used the trackpad to open up her inbox. Her eyes flew to the most recent; its unknown sender.

TIME TO FIND OUT HOW
GOOD OF A LIAR YOU REALLY ARE.
-- A

Although the dread had churched up inside of her, Halle scrunched up her brows in bewilderment. She had no A-message prior. She hadn't be given an inclining to what was in store for her. Halle had no clue to what A meant by it and it only caused her to feel worse. To be suspended in the air, then to be tumbling full-speed towards the unknown made her stomach shrink and tie up into knots.

Backing out of the email, Halle noticed the first email. Her eyes largened, her heart raced. Rosewood Police Department. Halle had been so threatened by the 'Unknown Sender' that she hadn't stopped to consider it could something more dangerous. When she opened it, Halle knew what A had meant from their email. Halle had fallen right where A needed her to when she shot a gun for the first time.

Thank you for reaching out. I will be available tomorrow at eleven to take your statement regarding the murder of Detective Darren Wilden. Your cooperation is key to giving the family answers to the death of their loved one.
Sincerely,
Officer G. Holbrook
Pennsylvania State Police

•

She hadn't been in this room before. Out of all times Halle had been dragged to the police station — willing or unwilling, cuffed or un-cuffed — she had always been put in an interrogation room. Halle had not once ever seen the inside of the conference room until now. Shock had almost paralysed her when the officer escorted into it and then asked if she wanted a drink while she waited. The hospitality was dubious. Halle didn't quite buy into, especially since it was being set up by A.

Yet, Halle had something up her sleeve. She wasn't dumb. A shouldn't have given her night to prep out the smooth lies to coat the rough truth. That text was a threat, and Halle never took kindly to them.

"Halle." Officer Holbrook entered the room. He held a laptop along with a manila file. He smiled briefly at Halle as a greeting and said, "Thanks for coming in. I hear you have some information you wish you share with me about Detective Wilden." He pointed out to her. "Did you get offered something to drink? I can get you a coffee." Holbrook light-heartedly jested, "I can't vouch for when it was made."

"I think most officers use the The Brew," Halle mentioned.

"Would you recommend it?" Holbrook asked. "The Brew," he expanded.

"Uh, yeah, sure." Confusion itched at Halle. She was unsure at his question meant to disarm her. "It's good coffee. My friends and I like it."

Joining her at the long rectangular table, Holbrook sat at the head while Halle sat to his left. He was loading up the laptop. "Your friend works there, right?"

"Yeah, Em." Briskly, Halle tried to correct, "Emily — Emily Fields."

Holbrook smiled at her again, more reassuringly. "You can call her Em, I'll ask for clarification if I need it." He fiddled with the laptop, eyes on the screen, on something Halle couldn't see. "Do you want to call you parents? Legal advice?"

"Unless it's an interrogation, no," stated Halle. "I'm here voluntarily, remember?"

"Yes, I do." Holbrook nodded and checked, "You're eighteen, right?"

"Right, yeah," Halle confirmed for him.

"Good." He noted, "Just making sure, I want to do everything above board. Too many mistakes have been made in this investigation already. " Holbrook told her factually, "This will be recorded via the laptop, do you consent to that?"

"I do," Halle said. "I consent."

"So—" Finally, Holbrook returned his stare to Halle and said, "we can start anywhere you'd like, take your time."

"I— I'm not quite sure where..." Halle let her uncertainty show. Her hands trembled in her lap so much so that she ended up shoving them between her jean-covered thighs to stop the shaking. That pulsing sensation she had in her fingertips was back again. "I don't... I don't know where to start."

"Where you feel we're missing information to do with Detective Wilden," suggested Holbrook. His tone was warm, reassuring. It disarmed her, and Halle knew exactly what she needed to say.

Halle picked up on something the state police officer had said himself. She reminded him pointedly, "At the funeral, you said you knew how Detective Wilden was—" Halle grimaced, "unprofessional with us." She elaborated, "Well, it's just he was more unprofessional with some of us more than others."

His eyebrows raised for clarification, "You mean yourself?"

"Something tells me you know that already," Halle anxiously shared.

Nodding, Holbrook stated, "We do." He pried open the file and started to pull out papers to place in front of Halle. "For the tape, I'm showing Ms. Brewster exhibits thirty-seven to forty-two." He put to Halle, "You were one of the last few calls he made the night he died and had contact with him over the course of the last few weeks. For a detective, especially one who has been suspended before for inappropriate conduct against you and your friends," stressed the officer, "directly having contact with a lead witness in the town's biggest murder case is rather alarming."

Pressing her lips together, Halle felt the spike in discomfort. She moved her hot, fuzzy hands from between her legs and hugged her arms around her stomach, hoping to gather some support from the act. "I was getting prank texts, like the ones I received last year from Mona Vanderwaal," she explained first. Then, it dawned on her. "Oh, I— Sorry, I don't know how much you know."

"We know, Halle," Holbrook affirmed, straight-forward enough.

"Oh, well—" Halle glanced up at the ceiling and remarked self-depreciatingly, "that saves me the embarrassment of reliving it." She admitted to him, "I had a rather large panic attack a few weeks ago, before all this—" she looked down at the phone records, "after I thought I was followed home." Halle implored, "Detective Wilden was called to my house. He later claimed those prank messages were from my friends."

"Claimed?" It captured Holbrook's interest. He leaned closer and asked, "You don't believe it?"

Halle shook her head. "No," she said. "If you knew my friends, you'd understand why I never — not even for a second — thought it was them."

"But—" Holbrook pulled out a further lot of papers to be displayed for Halle, "for the tape, I'm showing exhibits ninety-three to one-hundred-and-six," he stated and then faced Halle. The numbers startled her, how many exhibits were there? The jump from forty-two was massive. "These are the findings Wilden had on your case," Holbrook stated. "It clearly shows what he said was the truth."

"Follow the money and it won't," Halle reasoned easily. "My friends don't have that sort of money to put in an account every month. Not Hanna and Em, anyway. It never came out out their accounts either. And this Vivian Darkbloom—" Halle tapped at the account holders's name, "he followed it to an apartment in New York and that was the end of it." Fiercely, Halle pressed, "Wilden was looking for way to turn us against each other and he preyed on me because I was vulnerable." She wryly smiled, tight and pressed. "And it worked. I played right into his hands and ended up meeting with him."

"In the Rosewood mall parking lot, correct?" Holbrook surprised her with what he knew — how silent he had been in his knowledge. He waited for her to confess before he confirmed what he already knew. With this one, Halle had to be extra careful.

"Yeah," said Halle quietly. "He also assaulted me outside of my work, the night before he died."

"He assaulted you?" Holbrook questioned seriously, his voice dropped.

Halle nodded. "I had just finished my shift and he grabbed my arm. Kept twisting it. He only stopped because my friend showed up."

Holbrook jotted it down on a sheet of paper inside the file. "Which friend is this?"

"Aria Montgomery," she said. Halle watched on as the officer made a note and added onto it, "He also assaulted me again the night he died."

"For the record," Holbrook began, and Halle instantly knew she was rumbled. This acid in her stomach grew and grew, itching inch by inch up her throat and into her mouth until Halle felt the urge to be sick. "Showing exhibit one-hundred-and-fifteen," he stated.

Spinning the laptop around to face Halle, the screen had a window fully loaded up and played a grainy black-and-white CCTV footage of the assault. Halle was stood there and Wilden came close. Suddenly, his hand was on her neck, and Halle gasped as she watched. He started to choke her. Halle looked away, eyes glistening with unshed tears. She heard Holbrook hit the spacebar to pause the video and he turned the device back around.

"I'm letting you know now, myself and my partner have seen the rest of that footage," Holbrook politely informed. "I'd like to give you the chance now to request legal aide."

Halle's dark eyes went to him. "But you've seen the end of that video," she argued, "I didn't kill him."

Holbrook acknowledged that yet continued, "What's concerning to me is, we have you on video pointing a gun at a detective — you actually shot it not twenty seconds after this frame." He posed the question to her, "What's stopping you from going back later? Meeting him again, this time at Torch Lake?"

"I didn't know he was killed at Torch Lake—" Halle panicked and reached for the last records of contact to shove at him, "there's no messages asking to meet there."

"You could've followed him," Holbrook reckoned.

"I didn't." Gently, Halle shook her head and kept her lips in a line. "I didn't kill him, I couldn't," she said.

He asked, "Why?"

"I just couldn't pull the trigger," Halle answered, eyes on the officer. She further insisted, "Yeah, I shot at him, but I didn't shoot him. It was just to scare him — to keep him away from me and my friends. Yeah; I won't lie, I wanted Wilden gone — off Alison's case. I wanted him to leave my friends alone. And I know what it looks like — I had the gun in my hands, I shot at him, I could've killed him." Halle said, "I had the chance, but I didn't."

The state police officer repeated his question, "Why?"

"I couldn't pull the trigger in one place and watch a life go out in another," Halle gave earnestly. "Wilden said I couldn't, and he was right."

"What did he slide to you?" He explained, "In the video. You asked him for something and he collected a book or something from his car, kicking it you." He turned to the laptop at her hesitation, "I can play it for you if you don't remember—"

"I remember," Halle interrupted swiftly, and he stopped. "It was a notebook. A diary kinda," she said. "I logged all the messages me and my friends were sent last year by Mona. I thought if I showed him that, he'd back off. He'd stop saying it was my friends pranking me and start looking at her— I went to him first because I was scared of her."

"Why?" he asked.

"Why?!" Halle got enraged, hot frustration flooded her body. Every fibre lit up with a fire, and it drove Halle to grow more upset. "I thought you said you read up on us. She bullied us — stalked us for a year, then got sent to Radley — for six months. Six months!" she exclaimed loudly. "She did that for a year and got six months! I was terrified, then I was getting more texts." Ignoring the water in her eyes, Halle pressed her index finger furiously into the table and yelled, "I went to Wilden 'cos I was scared — and he hurt me!"

Holbrook cleared his throat and averted his eyes. Deeply unsettled, he said as Halle forced back her tears, "I'm sorry that he did that to you."

Halle pushed her shoulders back and sat back into the chair. Her arms tightened around her stomach, hugging herself closer. She made sure to keep the only promise to her waked: she wouldn't cry this month. "Officer Barry Maple," she told him, "he witnessed Detective Wilden be inappropriate with me." She expanded further, "In his office, in this station."

"Inappropriate?" questioned Officer Holbrook more seriously because of the location. "Like he was on the CCTV footage we've just seen?"

"He didn't assault me, but he did..." Halle nervously bit the inside of her left cheek and uncomfortably wriggled in the chair. "He put his on my knee." She explained, "Officer Maple walked in and he kept his hand on my leg. Wilden didn't care who saw or if he was caught out, he thought he could get away with anything." With a shrug, Halle dropped in, "It's why he stayed on Alison's case."

His brows raised at that. "This has something to do with Alison DiLaurentis?"

It did now, Halle brutally thought, A made it all surround Alison. All because of that stupid prank they never even went through with.

"He knew her, " Halle informed the officer. "He, uh, met Alison the summer she went missing — in Cape May," she added. "There was a photograph of him and her with one of Alison's friends, CeCe Drake, on his boat. He dated CeCe — well, they were hooking up, but Alison was around him That Summer."

"Why didn't you report this?" asked Holbrook.

"To who? I don't have this photograph, I have—" Halle got flustered, panicking aloud as her hand shot out, "I only have proof he was in Cape May at the same time she was, but I don't have that photograph of him with her and CeCe," she hissed. "I know how it goes, I've tried reporting things to the cops before and somehow I end being painted as the liar." She raved at him, "It got in the newspapers — 'what really happened'," she mocked dryly. "I was scared of him. And if he..." Halle paused and forced her eyes to become glassy but made certain no tears actually fell, "...if he killed Ali."

'Ali' felt foreign on her tongue. Halle hadn't used the nickname in so long. It wasn't right anymore. All familiarity had vanished from Halle. Too much had happened. Too much had been discovered since. A was Alison. Alison was A. Even if she wasn't really. Halle also murdered Alison. How could Halle call her 'Ali' when she buried her? When every time she closed her eyes, she heard the sound her skull made when the rock hit her? Halle didn't deserve the title of friend nor the sympathy she received from being the dead girl's childhood best friend either.

Holbrook requested complete clarification, "You think Wilden killed Alison DiLaurentis?"

No, Halle didn't but for the sake of this situation, she couldn't tell the truth. Still, what escaped Halle wasn't a lie. "I don't know who killed Alison."

"I need to ask." Ready to write, Holbrook put his pen to the page and asked, "Where were you between ten and twelve on Friday evening?"

"I was at Spencer's house. Spencer Hastings," Halle stated for the tape. She carried on with the lie, "We decided to have a little celebration to welcome her home. We all dressed up and partied. I have photos," she inserted to be certain he'd believe her.

"Can you tell me who was there?" he asked her.

"Oh, right, sure." Her lips turned up a little into a small smile as she listed off names for him to put to paper. "Spencer Hastings, Emily Fields, Aria Montgomery, Hanna Marin... and Mona Vanderwaal."

•

Aria's skin was sweaty. Self-hatred ran hot through her dripping body. Her tank clung to her. The more time she spent trapped in her car, enclosed in the hot space due to the roadworks ahead, the worst it grew. Aria beat her fists against the wheel, shaking profusely.

It wasn't long before the trapped feeling sank in. In the midst of beating herself up for a dumb mistake, Aria's felt her breath catch. Her breathing had quickened. It was shallower and hurt. The sweat dripping from her had turned cold. The air around her had become too little — to thin — and she hurried to roll down the window.

The rumbling of concrete being drilled at hit her. It was loud. Abrupt and shook the ground beneath her car. Feeling unsteady, Aria turned her head to the window for the fresh air but was suddenly aware of something more sinister.

Mona.

Across the way, outside the police station, Mona proudly stood chatting with an officer in uniform. Aria sat up further and noted the way Mona tossed her hair over her shoulder and then put her hand on her hip. Her red lips were pursed and bashful, and Aria soon concluded Mona was flirting with the officer.

Distracted, hypnotised to keep her gaze hyper-focused on Mona, Aria hasn't seen the construction worker rotate his sign around. The 'SLOW' side showed, but Aria had her eyes narrowed suspiciously trying to read Mona's painted lips.

BEEP, BEEP.

Aria's head shot around towards the car horn. The driver behind had grown impatient and was frustrated that Aria wasn't moving. Sighing, Aria moved her feet into the position and released the handbrake just as another blast of a horn sounded. Instead of going home and showering off her embarrassment, Aria took a sharp left turn and drove up right alongside the curb by Mona.

"Mona!" Aria yelled to grab the girl's attention. Hearing her name, Mona was pulled from her conversation to face Aria. With the window rolled down, Aria leant over to call out, "Hurry, we're late." Even as the offended expression Mona pulled, Aria refused to relent. "Let's go, Mona."

Mona tried to put in, "I have to—"

"Let's go, Mona, get in," Aria repeated, more firmly, through a clenched smile.

"I'm waiting for—"

This time, Mona was cut off by Halle. Coming down the steps, Aria felt her jaw slack and mouth fall agar. Halle, not expecting to see one of her friends, widened her stare in shock at the two girls. Immediately the sickness from before had been exchanged for guilt that gnawed and ate at seeing the betrayal leak into Aria's green eyes. She was caught out. Halle didn't even get the change to explain it on her own terms before the mistrust had rushed in.

Concealing her miffed attitude, Mona turned back to cop and politely said, "Thank you," before she and Halle got into the car.

After complete silence from Aria, no doubt punishing Halle and Mona for whatever dangerous plan they had already started, they soon found a quiet spot. Aria yanked on the handbrake when she parked up, her anger flooding out in passive-aggressive ways. At least before the shouting began.

"He was a decoy, Aria," Mona stated. "I was tuned into the cop behind him."

"You can't be chatting up any cops in broad daylight, Mona!" Aria proclaimed in annoyance. "If I can see you, so can A! And you—" Aria snapped her eyes to the middle seat in the back glaring at Halle, "I'll deal with you later."

"Deal with what? A set me up with that meeting with Holbrook," Halle defended strongly.

"So you went to Mona?!" Aria questioned, disbelieving in her utter shock. Shaking her head, Aria returned her gaze to the front. "We're gonna have to pay for this."

"Stop talking to me — and about me — like I'm a bucket of rocks," Mona cautioned, her own irritation seeping through. She glanced back at Halle. "God, is this what she's like with you for taking initiative? Can't say I blame you for coming to me, they'd probably make you cancel and end up making us all look more guilty than we already are."

"We're not guilty!" Aria yelled.

"We are to them!" Mona matched her shout. "You're forgetting this isn't just about Wilden. It's about everything. It's about Ian—" Mona counted them off onto her fingers, "Garrett, Maya, Alison." Again, her voice rose, "I'm scoping this out for all of us." She scoffed and said, "What you should be asking is what I overheard before you screeched up like Chicken frickin' Little."

While Aria carried on shaking her head, wanting to erase anything Mona was saying as it was spoke, Halle was interested. She leaned in, shuffled forward on the back seat. "So? What did they say?" Halle asked, and Aria shot around to glare at her.

"Those dudes behind him were special investigators," Mona explained to them. "They're taped off the south shore of Torch Lake as a crime scene."

"That's what Officer Holbrook said," Halle inserted, causing Aria to her head to listen. "He asked if I met Wilden at Torch Lake."

Mona's brows were up and arched as she divulged, "They found Wilden's footprints. They think he was there the night he was whacked. And he wasn't alone," she added more gravely. "The other shoeprints they found were a woman's. Heels," she put in. "High ones. The kind Alison liked to wear."

At that, Aria rotated her stunned stare ahead. Her lips parted and she stayed quiet for a while as it slowly occurred to her that perhaps Hanna's memory was right. "Alison's alive?" she asked lowly, almost whispering. "She can't be, it makes no sense." Her eyes suddenly snapped back to Halle. "They identified her body. The DNA had to match for them to do that. They couldn't make such a huge mistake like that... could they?" Her eyes had grown glossy with each passing moment. She turned to begging Halle for an answer Aria would like: Alison's dead, the coroner identified her body.

But Halle never gave her friend that. "If Alison's alive and she's Red Coat or A like we think she is..." Halle gulped and said, "A's hacked things before, they could easily change the results so it looked like Alison was dead."

"You think Ali's Red Coat, too?" Aria asked her seriously.

"I don't know—" Halle shrugged, "I don't know anything anymore."

Glumly, Aria accepted, "That's why you went to Mona."

"I needed to play the game A would," Halle told her, as much as it hurt to admit to her friend. Aria said nothing further. She just nodded her head and faced forward, staring off out of the windshield. So, Halle turned to Mona. "Did you finish what I asked?"

"Obviously." Mona dug her hand into the secondary bag she had at her feet and grabbed the thick black notebook. "Here you go," she said, as she passed it back to Halle. "One notebook without illegal activities. A surface level bully and a severely damaged victim-complex."

Halle flipped through it, inspecting the spine. She could hardly tell it had been taken apart and glued back together. She ran her finger along it, feeling for an obvious signs of glue but failed to find any. "And the rest?"

Rolling her head, Mona returned to the bag and pulled out a stack of loose paper. It crinkled as she handed it over, the loose pages squeezed together by several large paper-clips. "Here."

"Is this everything?" Halle asked her, shooting her an incredulous look.

"Yes," Mona hissed honestly.

"Good," Halle confirmed. She tapped the notebook and said, "He wants it like we thought."

"So—" Mona looked back her, a smirk on a rogue lips as she asked, "how did it go?"

Copying the same sly curve to her mouth, Halle replied, "All to plan."

•

Deemed untrustworthy for the moment, Aria stuck herself to Halle's side. They became attached as Aria dragged Halle all the way to the Hastings' under the guise of 'well, you can tell Spencer." However, when they got there — when they'd usually knock and walk right in — they didn't. Aria knocked and waited, having both seen a distressed looking Toby furiously wipe at his wet face and Spencer watch on in mortified concern.

Lovingly, with emotional eyes of her own, Spencer closed in on her boyfriend. She pressed her front to his side, hugging his arm. She shielded her words behind his shoulder. They lingered for a moment before Toby ducked out and brushed Spencer's shoulder with his own head as he left. Their painful goodbye witnessed through the french-door windows. It was a sore spot of Halle because while her mind buzzed with the worried questions over Toby's upset, Halle stubbornly refused to allow herself to slip back no matter how difficult it was to know he had been crying.

As Toby fled for the mud-room door, to leave that way, Spencer opened the left door where Aria and Halle were. She let them in, sniffling. "Hey," she said, quickly turning away as she wiped away any stray tears.

"Hey," Aria said, unsure.

"Everything good?" Halle asked curiously, just as the mud-room door shut with a dull bang.

"Yeah, yeah, everything's good," Spencer reassured them. "Come in."

Once the door was shut, the two welcomed in, Spencer busied herself with playing host. She grabbed the jug of clouded lemonade from the fridge along with three tall glasses as she asked them what brought them here. Aria wasted no time in dobbing Halle in and launching into her unfriendly attack of Mona.

"How are we supposed to trust anything that she ever says?" Aria rightfully questioned in her fit of annoyance. "I mean, who knows what she told those cops?"

"Nothing!" Halle exclaimed. She slapped her hand against her thigh in frustration, her perched on the arm of the couch. "How many times? She told them nothing, she was there because I asked for her help."

"With what?" Spencer asked, still puzzled to why Mona was the first one Halle sought for help with the new state police officer.

"With lying, with creating a believable story with the truth," rattled off Halle reasonably. "Like I said to Aria, A was setting me up and Mona knows how A works best."

"Yes! — But this is Mona," Aria argued with her just like before. "She started lying when she was a foetus." Noting the unnatural quietness Spencer was exhibiting, her focusing on pouring each of them a drink, Aria changed up. She moved closer and wondered, "Hey, why was Toby so upset when he left? Were you guys fighting?"

"No." Spencer shut it down. "No," she assured. "Go back to the foetus."

Not following a single thought Aria herself was putting out into the Hastings' living area, Aria jumped onto the next one that popped up in her head. She stuck her finger out and said, "Hey, did I tell you I'm done with martial arts?"

"You just started today," Halle pointed out.

"Yeah—" Aria's eyes shot to her as she then refused, "I can't even walk down that street. I kissed him," she blurted out bluntly.

Spencer faced her, confused. "Who?"

"My instructor," Aria revealed.

"Why?" asked Halle, a tad befuddled by the confession.

"I don't know!" Aria's arms flew out in her rant, "I guess 'cos I miss Ezra and I almost got killed the other night and he smells like... cinnamon," she added, hating herself for the last part, resenting her attraction to the scent.

"Who does?" Spencer asked.

Aria caught her breath and sighed, "Jake."

Spencer knitted her brows together. "Who's Jake?"

"—My instructor," Aria said, as Halle spoke with an eye-roll,

"—The instructor."

"Pay attention," Aria demanded.

Rolling her eyes again, Halle let out, "Well, this conversation ain't helpful."

"Oh, but Mona is?" Aria quipped back smartly, aiming directly at her.

"With what I need, yes!" Halle declared boldly. "Yes, she was very freaking helpful. If she's gonna hang around us like a fly to crap, I'm gonna at least use her."

"Okay—" Aria scrunched up her face in disgust, "gross."

Inhaling, Spencer span around on the stool and said to Halle, "I can't believe you didn't tell us you met with Wilden that night."

"Oh, sorry," Halle began sardonically, "when would you have liked me to tell you? When we had to be in Hanna's kitchen so Toby could film us as proof for A, or when we all almost died in a fire? Oh, no, wait, hang on—" Halle held up her finger and fired, "was it when we found out another murder happened and the cops are looking to us again?"

"Halle, chill for a second," Spencer said.

"Chill?" Halle's voice raised as she started to fume, "Chill?! Spencer, A is playing with body parts — with bodies! — so don't tell me to chill."

Coolly, Spencer tried again, "We all just need to hang in there—"

"What's the point? I hang in there and then A puts a noose around my neck to hang myself." Halle had reached her point of being done finally and snapped. "I'm done hanging in there — I wanna feel safe." Defeated, she breathed out, "I think we should tell the cops about A."

"—No!" Spencer yelled.

Aria's face went red as she shouted too, "—Are you insane?!"

"Halle, we can't, A has that footage of us with Wilden's car — we're literally looking in his trunk," Spencer exclaimed, hand out.

"So, what, we lie until A sends an anonymous delivery to those state police officers?" Halle threw out at them. "Hell no! Guys, we need to jump ahead on this," she pleaded.

Spencer agreed calmly, "Okay, let's just talk about it when we're together and—"

SLAM.

Three heads whipped around. There, at the door, stood Hanna in a vile mood with a large birdcage within her left hand. "Thanks for returning my calls," Hanna said bitterly.

The bird gave a squawk, and Spencer's eyes diverted down to it. "Where did you get that?"

Trading it into her right hand, Hanna stated, "Mrs DiLaurentis' porch."

"You stole her bird?" questioned an perplexed Aria.

"Why?" Halle asked, brows creased.

"She gave it to me," Hanna chided with her eyes narrowed incredulously.

Halle repeated, "Again, why?"

"It's not just a bird, okay? It talks." Keenly, Hanna told them like she had uncovered a massive clue in the bird, "Alison and Tippi were roommates in Georgia. I mean, this bird probably knows more about what happened to Ali than any of us."

"Good for it," Halle commented sarcastically. "What exactly do you want me to do about that?"

"It talks a lot!" Hanna said loudly, eyes clenched shut as aggravation grew.

"You think it's gonna tell us if Ali's still alive?" Spencer asked, shocked.

"Wow," Aria dragged out, floored by the admission. "I thought that I was losing it."

"Okay, you know—" Hanna jumped to defend herself and the bird, "if you guys would shut up for a minute, maybe it would say something."

Hanna carried it over to the kitchen island and set the cage down while. Halle rose to meet it. The curly-haired girl angled her head to the side as she took in its grey complexion and beady eyes. They were all waiting and after a long beat of silence, Spencer broke in, "Does it take requests?"

Huffing, Hanna withdrew abruptly from the group. Her entire self was rigid and tense, her limps shot out with a vengeance. "Okay, you know what? Ali was hooking up with someone in Cape May That Summer, and she was telling her mom that it was us."

"Yeah—" Aria looked at her. "We know. Wilden, right?"

"Wrong," Halle interrupted. She explained shortly, "He said him and Alison never got together."

"Exactly, we don't know," Hanna backed Halle up. Fiercely, the blonde concluded, "And if Wilden had his own boat, why would he be staying at Ali's parents' beach house?"

"Okay, you know what, Hanna, that's a really great question," Aria started, choosing to walk towards her to drill the point home, "but we can't ask him because he's dead. Alright, and that lake is now a crime scene," she stated, stunningly keeping the panic at just a simmering level. "The shoreline that we threw the car in—"

"Aria, you have to stop, okay?" Spencer interrupted. She grasped at her friend's wrist to keep the situation even. "That was a week ago, and you guys weren't wearing pumps. The footprints that the police are looking for are high heels."

"Wait." It dawned suddenly on Hanna that she was missing certain facts. Her voice went from irate to delicate as she asked, "Whose high heels?"

"Well—" Aria's eyebrows arched up as she remarked, "the cops don't know, but Mona's trying to tell us that they're Alison's."

"Was it..." Hanna tried to seem indifferent, "muddy that night?"

The parrot squawked, cutting in before either got to answer. "Hey, Board Shorts. Miss me?"

To Halle, the parrot, although it sounded like a parrot, phonetically mimicked Alison. How evil was it that Halle had finally erased Alison's voice from inside her head only for a talking bird to show up chatting just like her?

Their heads whirled around to it, and Aria asked, "Did you just hear that?"

"Yeah, I'm standing right next to you," stated Spencer, glowering at the bird.

Halle mentioned, "And none of us have gone deaf in the last minute."

Stressing out, Hanna grabbed at Spencer's arm and requested lowly, "Hey, can I talk to you?"

Inching closer, Aria and Halle surveyed the bird. On its perch, the grey-feathered animal began to whistle a sweet tune. Aria asked the room, loud enough to cut into the whatever Hanna spoke to Spencer about, "Hey, what's this song? What's it singing?"

Again, the parrot sung the same tune. A series of pitched whistles, and Halle figured, "Maybe it's keys, like notes?"

"Can you pitch-check?" questioned Aria curiously.

"Do I look like I can pitch-check?" Halle quipped back. "Now, if the bird started doing backflips, I might be more helpful."

The bird whistled again, and the inquisitive pair turned back to it. Whatever Tippi wanted them to know, she kept on repeating it, and neither of them could pull at what it was.

•

"So, you're okay?"

Halle's question was full of overwhelming worry. She sat upright in her bed, mobile on speaker as she held it in her hand. Her laptop glowed brightly, illuminating Halle's face with a blue hue, as she listened in on the call.

"I'm fine, it's just a bump," Emily reassured her over the phone.

"Em, you swam into a wall," Halle said bluntly. She beat herself up for not being there — for being elsewhere. "I knew it— I knew I should've cancelled my interview with Holbrook to watch your meet."

"And what would you have done?" Emily countered back. As much as she appreciated Halle's fierce protectiveness, right now it was wasted energy. "You couldn't see it coming. I mean, I couldn't."

"Yeah, but I should've at least been at the hospital with you," Halle argued.

"And done what, wait around while I had a doctor in my face? How boring do you want your Saturdays to be?" Emily chucked lightly, and it gave Halle some ease. "I'm fine, I've just got rest for a few days."

"And your shoulder?" Halle asked, onto the next thing.

"They took a scan at the hospital," Emily revealed. "I'll find out soon if I..." Her voice cracked. All the emotions bubbled at her surface. "If I can still swim."

"Em," Halle dropped her voice, "I promise you, you're gonna be able to swim."

"You don't know that," Emily wept softly. "It might be really bad, Halle."

"Okay, screw it—" Halle unfolded her legs and got up from her bed. "Screw college essays, I'm coming over and—"

"No, don't," Emily was firm. "You can't."

Halle froze, offended. "Why not?"

"Paige is on her way over and—" Emily heard Halle scoff mid-explanation but continued, "I'm kind of dreading seeing her so I could use your support."

"Why are you dreading it?" asked Halle, still holding the phone as she talked through the microphone.

"Because I lied to her," Emily said. "I didn't tell her how much pain I was in when she asked this morning." Emily rambled off her excused, "She was talking about Stanford and how big of deal this meet was because there was a scout coming for that one spot left and—"

"Wait, hold up — Stanford?" Halle cut in with her confusion. "When has Stanford ever come up? It's Danby," she stated firmly. "The college you want is Danby, it always has been."

"And the college you wanted was UPenn," Emily returned to her, pointing out the hypocritical nature of the phonecall. "Things change, Halle."

"Yeah, but I got wait listed," Halle sourly retorted, "I'm not choosing a college based on where my girlfriend is."

Teasingly, Emily joked, "That's because you don't have a girlfriend."

Any curve to Halle's mouth fell. She dead-panned, not that Emily could see it. "Don't get cute with me," she warned. "Look—" Halle rolled her eyes, gratefully this time Emily was on the other side of a phone and not in front of her, "if Stanford and... Paige," she heaved out, exasperated, "is what you want then... tell her the truth."

"You think so?" questioned Emily gently.

"You told me the truth, you should tell Paige," Halle responded easily, ignoring the tightness of her chest. She used the heel of her palm to rub at it, hoping to sooth the knot away.

"Okay, I will." Emily called back down the phone, remembering, "Oh, and, Hal?"

"Yeah?"

"Write the essay," Emily instructed sweetly.

Halle grumbled out a mutter, "You write the essay."

Emily let out a hearty laugh, "Write it!"

"Whatever—" Halle wanted to hang this call up fast. "Bye — love you — take care."

There was a silence. Halle's sweet, if not casual, goodbye was met with a stillness down the line. Emily's breathing picked up. The memory of yesterday morning stung. It was at the forehead of their minds. There had been silence too. With they eyes locked, hearts beating ferociously, putting tears in the very fabric of what Halle and Emily were when they were alone together.

"Em, I didn't—" Halle went to apologise. She'd ramble out a thousand apologies for how she had allowed herself to make Emily feel weird because Halle got warm cheeks from holding her gaze. But then Halle heard it.

"... Love you too." After, Emily briskly added, "I gotta go, Paige is here — bye."

The called ended, and Halle felt an absent feeling where the knot had been prior. She rubbed at it again, afraid now the tightness had gone. That tightness, no matter how different and new, strangely comforted for the time it was there. It wasn't heavy and painful; it was just tight.

Ignoring it, like she had ignored her hot cheeks the morning prior, Halle turned away and returned to her bed. Halle climbed up by the pillows, pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. She hugged her chin to her chest and shut her lids. In the darkness of them, she tortured herself over how close she trod to ruining her friendship with Emily. She couldn't deal with that, in fear everything would spiral out of her control. Emily kept her calm. With how A was gunning for her — and them — Halle craved that calmness right now, especially when everything before had been so unreliable.

Halle opened her eyes and immediately reached for the laptop. She shimmed her finger up the trackpad and clicked on the essay document she had been in the start of when Emily called.

WHAT IS THE LESSON YOU ARE MOST PROUD
TO HAVE LEARNT WHILE AT HIGH SCHOOL?

Without thinking much into it, Halle typed out two words.

Lie better.

Her finger hovered over the keys, knowing she should delete it no matter how much she believed it — how much she meant it. Yet, Halle had no idea what she'd actually write other than that. High school — at least junior year — had taught her to lie better than before, but there was always a chance she could lie ever better. To learn how to lie the best.

In her frustrated mood, Halle aggressively hit the 'backspace' button until her original answer disappeared. It was the wrong answer for UPenn. It was wrong for every college, but it was the only thing buzzing around Halle's brain, ruining any chance she had of pushing out the first draft that night.

To add onto the reasons why Halle wouldn't be writing any further, her phone started to ring. She glanced at the screen and saw Spencer's name flash up along with a photograph of the pair attached: Halle's head rested upon Spencer's shoulder as they both smiled widely. Snatching it up, wanting the distraction, Halle quickly answered.

"Hey, what's up?" Halle greeted.

Gravely, Spencer launched to informed, "It's not a song that Tippi's singing."

"Okay, what is it then?" Halle asked, brows furrowed together.

"Halle, it's a phone number," Spencer told her, and Halle's stomach dropped. "Tippi's singing a phone number."

The late-night phonecall had Halle clumsily reach and put on her trainers. She held the back of the second shoe as she forced her foot into it, slapping her sole down loudly into the floorboard. "Jeez—" Hurrying, Halle asked, the mobile pressed between her shoulder and ear, "Are you sure?"

"I'm pretty certain," Spencer replied. "I called Hanna and Aria, they're coming over now. I can't get in touch with Em, can you—?"

"Yeahhhh," Halle drew out the word, standing straight. She moved her hand to hold the phone. "That won't be happening."

Instantly, Spencer was alarmed. "Why?"

"She got into accident today— it's okay, she's okay, it's nothing seriously bad," Halle rushed in to add, sensing Spencer's panic.

"Not serious or not seriously bad?" checked Spencer.

"Which one did I say, Spence?" Halle shot out stubbornly. "Yeah, that's the one I meant." She sighed and said, "Em hit her head in the pool, she didn't need stitches but there was some blood."

"Oh, my god," awed Spencer, heart aching for the girl in question.

"Yeah, she's with Paige right now," Halle said. "Let's just give her tonight and worry her tomorrow."

"Okay," Spencer confirmed. "That's a good idea."

"I'm coming over, see you in min," Halle said to her friend and hung up right after.

Within five minutes of arriving at Spencer, with Halle having gotten there fastest, the two neighbours were soon joined by Aria and Hanna. The four — missing their fifth — loitered in the low-lit kitchen. They gathered around the house-phone, it glowing blue as it rang, waiting for someone on the other end to pick up.

"It could be a business," Aria suggested logically. "It's Saturday night, they're closed."

"Let it—" Hanna, agitation just bubbling beneath, tensed up and said, "just let it ring, okay?" She looked down and away, trying not to peg all her hope onto this clue.  "Where's this area-code anyways?"

"York County," Spencer stated.

"You know every area-code by heart or you look it up?" Halle questioned her friend, leaning against the island.

"I know every area-code in Pennsylvania," Spencer responded. When she saw Halle's right eyebrow quirk up, she explained, "My dad made me learn them for when he had to travel for a case. I know most of New York State's too."

"New York City," Hanna corrected.

"No—" Spencer spared her a look and affirmed her words, "New York State. New York City is in New York State," causing Hanna to huff.

"When'd they change Geography?" the blonde muttered lowly, whispering out her confusion.

Moving on, Aria glanced to Halle and questioned, "Did Ali know anybody from there?"

"Not that I know," Halle responded, with a shrug.

Spencer reasoned, "I'm guessing that she called her Beach Hottie—"

"—Board Shorts," Hanna cut in.

But Spencer continued, "—Obsessively from Georgia, and that's how Tippi learned this number."

"So, they're two guys?" Halle checked with her friends, trying to keep up. "Not just the same guy, two nicknames?"

"When Ali gave you a nickname, it stuck." Hanna wore a sad frown and depressingly remarked, "You only get one, trust me."

Aria softened, "Han..."

"Relax, I'm over it," Hanna dismissed it with a wave of her hand. "It's just Mrs D brought it up today."

"You know what—" Halle snapped and said, "I'm gonna talk to her. She got a little too nasty at the funeral too and—"

Hanna tried to reassure, "Hal, I'm fine, it's—"

"Do not say it's fine, Hanna," Halle but in, cutting off the blonde. "It's not fine. I might have kept my mouth shut back then with Alison, but damn me if I'll let it happen again."

Smiling softly, Hanna whispered out a small, "Thank you."

Again with the suggestions, after the line had gone dead, Aria put in to Spencer, "Maybe just just dialled the number wrong."

"I didn't!" said Spencer, getting annoyed as she was forced to end the call.

"How do you know?" Hanna defended, "You dialled it, not Tippi."

"He's a bird, Han," Halle replied dryly. "It's a miracle we got one that talks."

Taking charge, Aria coolly said, "Okay, let's just go record the bird."

"You guys, she's been singing this phone number on a loop," Spencer argued with them, arms folded and head craned out in defiance. "I've heard it, like, twenty times."

"Yeah, so have I, but I want someone to answer," Hanna sassed back. "So, Aria—" she faced the girl beside her, "let's go get your phone and we'll record it together."

"Okay," said Aria.

One-by-one they left. Aria went first with Hanna close behind. Halle spared a glance to Spencer, knowing too well how Spencer was too stubborn not to stick her nose in, and Halle was right. With a huff and groan, Spencer followed, which spurred Halle on to join. The latter two arrived to find Aria and Hanna frozen on the spot, staring at what they had presumed was the birdcage.

Rounding them, Spencer realised what the two were actually staring at was the empty birdcage. Tippi wasn't on their perch. The song was no longer being whistled. "What's going on?" Spencer asked, utterly bewildered.

"Tippi's gone," Aria answered, her voice shaken with her confusion.

"Yeah, but how?" Hanna asked them. "Who opened that cage?"

Spencer's eyes had trained onto a singular grey feather upon her red, leather chaise-chair. It was Tippi's and left it the same way the feather to Melissa's Black Swan dress was — both at the masquerade and in the dress-bag when the girls went snooping at the elder Hastings sibling's apartment. "Probably the same person who opened the window," she said, feeling the draft on her skin.

The group looked up. The window nearest the cage was wide open. Spencer's white drapes floated in the cold wind, blowing upwards. It hadn't been more obvious that someone had been in Spencer's house — her bedroom — like the time they drew with Jungle Red lipstick on her mirror, and the thought dawned on Halle if Mona had copies of their car-keys, what was stopping A from having keys to everywhere?

A had already been in Halle's house. A had been in her car. Left a message in her locker. Meddled with her pills. Nothing was off-limit to this A — Red Coat — whoever it was, and Halle felt the last match strike and lit up her refusal.

"Okay, screw this—" Halle slapped her thigh and left for the door. "I ain't doing this again."

"What?" Spencer whipped around to follow her. "You can't just—"

Halle span back, instantly on not just Spencer but all of three. "I can't, what? Walk out? Oh, I think I can." Harshly, without holding back, Halle stated, "Alison's dead—"

"We don't know that," Hanna cut in. "I remember her leaving That Night—"

"And I remember one of you caved her head in with a rock, so I'm guessing our memories ain't that great, Han," Halle threw out nastily. Seriously, not afraid of hurting feelings, Halle said, "Look, Alison's dead because she played these kind of games with people, I'm not gonna go down the same way." Like two nights prior, she begged, "Why can't we just be done with it? Decided we've have and enough — and enough," she finished, hands crossing out the situation.

"You know why," Spencer said flatly.

"This is coming down on us and my mom, Halle," Hanna pleaded, raked through with emotion. "If my mom goes to prison because of A then—"

Selfishly, Halle asserted, "Then it's because of A, not because of me."

Hanna slowed. Her expression fell, faith dropped into the pit of her stomach. She was shaking her head, trying not to tear up. "You don't mean that."

"No," Halle conceded, immediately ashamed for that one cheap comment. "I don't, but... This is about Alison," Halle sighed, exhausted with running around in the same circles. "And I don't want my life to be about Alison forever."

"She was our friend," Aria said.

"She bullied us," Halle argued. "Spencer—" she snapped her head around to face her and recalled, "you said yourself she had no loyalty to us and you were right, why do we have to carry on showing it to her?"

"Because it's about survival now, Halle," Spencer claimed strongly. "This is about us not going to jail for everything — Wilden, Ian, Garrett, Maya, Alison!"

"If we didn't get so involved in the first place then we wouldn't be," Halle replied, persistent.

"Yeah, but we did because she was our friend," insisted Hanna this time around.

"Well, I guess we have different versions of friendship," Halle said, giving up on convincing them.

Seemingly, Hanna agreed and also giving up. "Yeah, I guess we do."

"Good," Halle said shortly. "Great. Now that's sorted, I'm off."

Delicately, Aria piped up, "Halle—"

Unleashing all the pent-up rage, Halle snapped, "What, Aria?!" All her fury surfaced and burnt them. "What could you possibly say to make me wanna get answers for Alison?"

"We can't do this without you," gave Aria. Her eyes were shining brightly, glistening with unshed tears. She closed them as she resorted to begging. She then looked back to Halle and said, "I know that sucks and it's not fair, but... I," she stressed, pointing to herself, "can't do this without you."

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