•

"The Perfect Storm"

"It's insane."

Halle looked up, rolling her eyes as she took in Hanna's exclamation. All of them were supposed to be studying for their SAT exams tomorrow, but Emily hasn't shown yet. It was probably because of the storm. To Halle, it seemed as though it hasn't stopped thundering since the memorial, since Jason left. It made Halle feel pathetic; she was sulking over a boy that wasn't even hers, that she never meant to be hers.

But there she was. Miserable, because she was mean to Jason. Halle couldn't do it; her one chance to apologise to Jason for what said that night, to be nice, and she ended up making it worse. He hated her truly now. Halle made sure of it.

"How many words do they expect you to learn in one night?" Hanna ranted.

"They expect you to already know them, Han, not learn them the night before," Halle told her. "This should just be a last minute reminder."

Hanna wore a smirk. "Is it for you?"

"No. This is a 'cram-it-in-my-head-all-at-once'," Halle responded.

"'Stringent'," Aria read aloud from the deck of cue-cards Spencer had made for her SATs revision — forever a Hastings.

"Uh, tough. Inflexible," Spencer answered, and Aria nodded, correct.

"It's not like you're actually gonna use them," commented Hanna, still on the topic of words the exam wanted them to learn.

"'Mere..." Aria stared down at the word on the card, struggling on how she would pronounce it, "tric-ious'."

"Meretricious," Halle stated, eyes fixed on what she was writing in a notepad. She began to feel hot, flustering violently. She had been writing, but now she was losing concentration; she was too warm.

"It's not like you go to college and then you start speaking a completely different language," chuckled Hanna.

"It's about getting into college," Spencer told the blonde. "Meretricious — um... phoney, flashy."

"Mm-hm," hummed Aria, placing the card down on the table. From the corner of her eye, she caught Hanna pick up a cold piece of pasta and eat it. Aria's nose turned upwards. "Uh, Han, why are you still eating that?"

"Because it's here," Hanna said, plain and simple.

Spencer said, "put it in the garbage."

"Well, then I'd have to stand over the garbage and eat it," Hanna shot back, and they — all except Halle, her too focused on fanning her face with the collar of her shirt — laughed.

Aria looked at the next cue-card. "'Besotted'."

Halle answered first. "Infatuated, enamoured, in love with." Her tone was drained, lacked any sort to emotion — dull. And she kept on fanning herself; Halle felt she was dripping with sweat. She saw her friends were looking at her strangely and stopped, "what?"

"All right, moody, out with it," demanded Spencer.

"Out with what?" asked Halle.

"You've barely talked all night," Spencer said.

Hanna glanced down at Halle's take-out box, still with more than half left in it. "You've barely eaten." She said, "it's like you're not even here."

"Em's the one who's not here." Halle saw there was no budging of the subject and sighed. "I'm just warm, that's all."

"Come on, this is not because you're a little warm," Hanna said. She was serious, something that with Halle, she wasn't very often. "Is is Eric? Has something happened again?" she asked.

"It's not Eric. It's nothing."

"Come on, you can tell us, Hal." Aria spoke softly; she was the most compassionate out of the girls. "If you and Eric are having problems, you can tell—"

"God, it's not Eric!" Halle slammed her hands down on the side. She snapped. "Not everything is about a boy! Okay? I'm fine. Fine. I'm fine." Her eyes were fierce as she glared at them. "And there's nothing going on with Eric. We're fine. I'm fine. Everything's fine!"

Aria stammered, "I—I didn't mean it like that."

"No, you never do." Halle kicked out her stool and stalked over the the fridge. "I'm hot. Is anyone hot?" She opened the door and then stood close to it. Halle's body relaxed the tiniest bit at the cold air on her skin.

Taken aback by Halle's outburst, Spencer was cautious when she spoke to the girl. "There's an ice-pack in the top drawer of the freezer."

"Thanks." Halle instantly opened the drawer and rummaged for it. When she found it, she didn't even bother to find a compress so she wouldn't get an ice-burn, Halle just slapped it to her neck and turned around to face her friends. All of them shocked, unsure of what to do. Halle sighed, "Sorry. I'm sorry, Aria, I'm just grouchy."

"Yeah, no joke," Hanna muttered.

"It's fine, Halle, we're all jut stressed," Aria said. She mustered up a smile for Halle, which Halle only returned slightly; she was too warm.

"Oh, continue." Halle gestured with her hand for them to carry. "Don't mind me."

Hanna didn't question it. Halle did drugs at parties; this wasn't the weirdest thing the curly-haired girl had done. Hanna, instead, focused on Aria. "So what did Noel say to you after the memorial?"

"Um, hello, we are taking the SATs in less than twelve hours." Spencer tapped the textbook with her pencil. "Can we focus?"

"Okay, Halle has her butt in your refrigerator and you, Spencer, do not need to know any more big words," Hanna exclaimed, and it was true; Halle practically had her butt in the Hastings' fridge. Aria glanced over at Halle equally concerned as she was confused. Hanna dictated at Spencer, "you're already scary enough to anyone under fifty."

"I'm not scary," Spencer defended, her voice whiny. "Am I scary?"

"—a little."

"—yes," Halle spoke over Aria, her more honest and blunt than anyone else in the room.

Hanna went back to Aria. She was rather eager to know the gossip. "Hey, I saw Noel Kahn hug you and he did not wanna let go."

"Talk about not wanting to let something go," retorted Aria.

"Why can't you give him a chance?" Hanna asked. The blonde gushed over him. "He's smart, he's cute, you know his family's great because Halle knows them — she'd be like your sister-in-law. And his dad owns, like, half of Rhode Island, and he's got great lips."

Spencer's face screwed up. "His father?"

"Noel," Hanna firmly stated. She shook her head. "Ew."

"You know what they say, look to the fathers," Halle snickered, still in the doorway of the fridge.

"Okay, gross." Hanna swore she could feel vomit in her throat. She tried to shake the thought from her body and then proceeded to press her friend to her right. "Seriously, Aria. You and Noel would look amazing together," she fantasied.

Aria sighed. She pleaded with Hanna, "can we just drop it? Please? I'm not looking for anything more than a friend."

"Why?" Hanna pressed. "I mean, don't you have enough on Facebook?"

"Is your AC on?" Halle interrupted. Her question was snappy and aimed at Spencer.

Spencer shrugged. "Should be."

"I'm so hot. My god," Halle spun back around to face the inside of the fridge.

"Besides, don't you want someone real?" Hanna continued. "Someone you can, I don't know, scratch and sniff?"

"Wow," Spencer out out a chuckle, disgusted, "maybe you should just eat over the garbage."

"Okay, I am trying to help out a friend here," Hanna claimed, as Aria got up to grab something. Hanna started to grin at Spencer, "we don't all have smoking-hot ball boys form the country club."

This interested Aria too. She settled in next to Hanna, leaning against the kitchen island. "What is going on with you and Alex? Is he back from that tournament?"

"Yeah." Spencer's voice went high. "He's back."

Halle was facing them again. She mocked Spencer's pitch, "is he?"

"Shut up," Spencer said, "go back to the frozen peas."

"You have peas?" Halle asked, eyes wide.

Spencer shook her head. "No."

And Halle's face shrunk.

Aria tapped the counter to get Spencer's attentions. She wanted to know more about Alex and her friend was letting up. "And?"

"And it's good." A shy smile etched onto Spencer's face. "It's so good," she gushed, and the two girls facing her practically melted. "And I want it to last, but I'm afraid I'm gonna blow it."

"So when can we officially call him the boyfriend?" Aria questioned, smiling at her best friend who gave a shrug.

The door opened and then the clicking of heels came through over the floorboards. Veronica Hastings had made it home after a long day at work.

"Hi, Mom," Spencer said the moment her mother entered the kitchen.

"Hey, Mrs Hastings," said Aria.

"Hi, girls," Veronica greeted with a smile. She walked in and saw Halle almost inside of the fridge. She questioned it. "Halle, is there a reason why you're stood in my refrigerator?"

"Hot," Halle answered. "I'm hot. So hot. Is it hot?"

"Oh, honey, take some Tylenol," advised Veronica. She moved the the cupboard and fetched down the bottle from the medicine basket. "You've probably got a fever," she said, handing it over to Halle. "Have it, not much left."

"Thanks, Mrs H," Halle said, finally moving away from the fridge and heading to the cutlery drawer.

Veronica pushed shut the freezer-drawer and then the fridge. As she moved to grab her cellphone from her briefcase, something caught her sense's attention. "What smells so good?"

"Garlic bread. Want some?" Spencer asked, holding up the take-out box.

"I can't. God, I miss food." Veronica groaned and told her daughter, "eat some butter for me, will you? Oh, and, Halle—" Veronica faced the girl now reading the back of the cold-flu bottle, "tell your mom we're on for Pilates at the club on Saturday."

Halle smiled and nodded. "Will do." She looked down at the bottle, shrugged and then downed a large mouthful. She'd replace it.

Veronica looked down at her phone. "Oh, why do I have so many messages?" she asked herself as she went to grab something from the fridge.

Hanna turned to Spencer. "Hey, maybe you should ask Alex to--"

"Stop," Spencer told her in a whisper, "not now."

Aria dropped her voice too. "Your mom still doesn't—?"

"Like I said, I want it to last," Spencer explained.

Veronica returned to the island. She asked her daughter, "where Emily?"

"She's probably on her way over."

•

Even with the storm raging on outside, the liars — minus Emily — had made it to Rosewood High. Veronica Hastings drove them to school, them having slept over the Hastings residence last night; and in true Hastings-style, Veronica had followed the girls in, determined to know if the SATs were happening or not.

"You don't have to come inside, Mom," Spencer said. "If it were cancelled, nobody would be here."

"I'm only here because I came with a Hastings," Halle said, and it got a giggle from Hanna — the blonde, too, agreed with that.

Veronica Hastings walked a little ahead of the girls and found a woman who looked to be staff. "Oh. Excuse me." Veronica tapped her on her shoulder and the woman turned to face her; she was indeed a proctor for the exam. "Hi. Are they actually going to give the test today?" she asked.

"Decision hasn't been made yet," the proctor replied.

"Well, can you tell me who makes that decision? They're predicting a major storm," Veronica said, her and the woman walking off down the the hallway.

Halle handed Hanna her coat, the blonde putting it into her locker for safe keeping; Aria did the same, hers being put in Spencer's. As Aria gave her coat over, her eyes caught sight of Alex, Spencer's not-boyfriend-boyfriend. She said, "you didn't say Alex was taking the test here too."

Spencer shut her locker, eyes flickering to the boy, and then she looked back at Aria. "Why do you think I wanted my mom to drop us off and leave?"

Alex, too, had found Spencer. He came over, smile on his face. "Hey, you."

"Hi," Spencer was already smiling. She let herself by taken in Alex's arms and gave him a kiss, it growing into several kisses.

Her friends were smiling, happy for her. Halle's back was to one of the lockers, she found it all highly amusing. "Oh, hello to you too, Alex," she said, joking with her flirty tone, and Hanna and Aria laughed. They all were really happy for Spencer.

"Attention all students. The SATs will be held today. Report to the library for sign-in."

Having listening to the PA system announce it was going ahead, Hanna let out a heavy sigh, which made Halle laugh this time. Aria glanced to her left and saw Mrs Hastings approached; she had to stop Spencer. "Spence. Spence," she tried, but it was no use. The small girl had to grab her friend's sleeve and pull her away from kissing her 'boyfriend'.

Veronica, by then, had come over to the girls in a somewhat annoyed fashion. It was irritation for the indecisiveness of the school. She raved, "nobody here can make a decision to save their life. It's absurd."

"Um, Mom," Spencer cleared her throat, "this is Alex Santiago." She introduced them. "Alex, this is my mother." There was a sudden drop in Veronica Hastings' composure, her body fell inwards like her world had crashed. "Alex, that I went to homecoming with," Spencer explained.

"Oh, of course." Veronica wore a nervous smile, putting it on for appearances; Halle knew that smile well. "I— from the club," she said.

"Yeah," Alex replied. Hearing his tone, Halle glanced at him to see Alex, too, wore the same expression Mrs Hastings did. Weird, she thought, awkward for Spencer.

"It just— It took me a moment to put it together," Veronica attempted to explain away, but the damage had been done. Spencer had already taken note of their reactions, and Halle's one too; she knew for sure Halle never missed anything, she knew people, and Halle was the best at spotting a lie. Veronica faked a smile, polite and cautious. "So, you're Alex."

Alex, awkward himself, had faced Spencer. "Listen, uh, I have to check-in. Um..." he turned to Mrs Hastings and stumbled, "nice seeing you-- meeting you." And then he left, leaving all of them in an uncomfortable place, Spencer starting at her mother questioningly.

The woman from before, the proctor, interrupted, thankfully. "Test is on today," she stated. "Rosewood students should register in the library."

"But like half the school isn't even here yet," argued Hanna.

"And may never make it," Veronica added. She said, "we saw a huge tree on Saw Mill Road, and they've already closed off York Street."

That was the moment Detective Wilden decided to put in his two-cents. The girls hadn't even notice him, in the hallway, as he spoke to a couple student. He told them, "that wasn't because of a tree." He joined them. "York Street's been closed since last night. Girls," he acknowledged, giving a slight nod to them.

"Detective," Halle said, her back against the locker as she took a sip of the cold-flu.

Detective Wilden went to question Halle's actions, but Veronica had questioned him first. She asked, "why is York Street closed?"

"Someone decided to pay a visit to Alison DiLaurentis' memorial and destroy it," he said, and Halle stood up fully, alarmed by the news as were her friends. "Shattered the tiles, broke the bench."

"—what?"

"—when did this happened?" Spencer asked over Aria's audible confusion.

Detective Wilden didn't answer them, but he carried on. "We had to cordon off the area, give it's an ongoing murder investigation."

"Well maybe spare them the details," suggested Veronica strongly. "They're about to take their SATs."

"Right. Good luck on the test, ladies," said Detective Wilden, and then he turned and walked away.

Spencer clutched her textbook to her chest; an unsettling feeling crept up on her. "We should probably get to the library," she said, and the girls agreed.

•

Sat around in Rosewood High's library, the conversation of Alison's memorial hadn't gone away. It stuck to them, just like everything that had happened since the night Alison disappeared. Aria sighed, "I can't believe it was trashed. Just when you thought that Awould give it a rest."

"It's like Toby had to kill Alison all over again," Spencer commented.

"—Toby?" questioned Halle, and Hanna did too.

"—Toby?"

"What do you mean, Toby?" asked Halle.

"His motorcycle was totaled," Hanna said. "Isn't he dead?"

"Well, I hear more from Alison now than when she was alive," Spencer retorted.

"You guys," Hanna dropped her voice low, "I thought we decided A wasn't Toby."

"We did." Halle stared hard at Spencer, sat opposite her. "When Em was here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Aria asked.

"I don't know—" Halle turned to her now, "what is it supposed to mean?"

"God, will you stop being so grouchy all the time, drink your cold-flu," Hanna said.

"No." Spencer snatched the bottle from out of Halle's reach. "She's had enough of that already."

"Guys," Hanna put them back on subject. "A was happy to have Toby out of the picture."

"But how do we know that Toby didn't just sent that text?" Aria asked. "And why are we suddenly trusting A?"

"Because she's honest," Halle muttered.

"A made a fake bracelet to mess with us," snapped Aria.

Halle saw her point. "Touché."

Hanna perked up on seeing Emily enter the library and walked over to them. "Emily, hey," she said. "Where've you been?"

"Yeah, why weren't you at Spencer's last night?" Aria asked the swimmer.

"Study buddies," Halle teased sarcastically.

"I know, I'm sorry," Emily said sincerely. She told them, "I didn't get out of practice till really late, so I went straight home and crashed." She asked them, "so what did I miss?"

"Well, we studied." Hanna jokingly admitted, "they studied and I annoyed them." Then, bluntly, she added, "and Alison's memorial got trashed."

"Yeah. I heard," Emily replied, short.

A little while later, the girls had managed to score an actual table to sit at, rather than crowding around a cabinet of books. They were all still waiting for the test — the latest they heard, it would be taken at ten — but the storm still raged on outside.

"Who do I speak to about getting into the boys' locker room?" Halle's head lifted the moment she heard Detective Wilden's voice, and sure enough, he was in the library.

"I'd have to find a custodian," answered the proctor for the exam. She asked, "do you wanna follow me?"

"No, that's all right. I'm gonna wait here," the detective replied, and Halle felt her skin crawl.

"God, he's freaking me out," Hanna hissed at her friends, keeping her voice low. "I mean, who's locker is he poking into now?"

"He's desperate," Spencer explained. "Ali's dad is breathing down his neck."

Aria's panic rose in her chest. "What if Jason told his dad or the police Alison's version of what happened, the night of the fire?"

"He wouldn't, okay?" Halle spoke up, confident in her words. "Jason doesn't trust or even like the police. They gave him too much of a hard time back when Ali first went missing for him to tell them anything."

"How do you know that?" Aria asked.

"I just do," Halle said defensively. "Jason and I emailed back and forth a few times since That Summer," she made up. "And considering I was the one who found him blacked-out on his porch the night she disappeared, I know exactly how the cops treated him."

"Why did you email him?" Spencer asked her, confused by her friend's actions.

"He's Ali's brother," Halle gave her. "Look, if Jason was gonna tell them, he wouldn't done a year ago, when it mattered, but he didn't."

"Because he knows that story's bogus," Spencer claimed.

Halle agreed, "exactly."

"Well, then why did he bring it up?" asked Hanna.

"To creep us out," Spencer insisted. "To try and drive a wedge between us, I don't know, but he's not gonna do that."

Detective Wilden then interrupted. He strolled over to the table the girls sat on, making them all look up at him. He said, "sorry about the memorial. I know how hard you girls worked on it."

"Bet you did," Halle countered.

He shot her a look. "Shocking though, right? Something like that could happen out in the open and nobody saw anything," he spoke with such superiority, like he knew what he was implying was the truth — it wasn't.

"Well, everybody here was probably studying for the exam that we're about to take, so you might wanna look for eye-witnesses somewhere else," Spencer countered back.

"So you were all studying together last night then?" he asked.

"Yes." Emily's voice was firm — and she was quick. She answered before anyone else could. She said, "we were all at Spencer's."

Detective Wilden raised his brows at them. "All of you?"

"Yes. All of us," Aria lied — lied for Emily.

"Okay." He gave them a short smile, and then Detective Wilden excused himself, walking away from them.

The moment he was gone, out of sight, Spencer looked straight at the swimmer in concern. "Emily, what is going on?" she asked.

"Yeah, where were you last night?" Aria asked. It had become very clear that the story Emily told them earlier was mostly likely a lie, and the one she told the detective definitely was.

"I told you, I went home," Emily defended.

"Then why didn't you tell him that?" Spencer asked.

"What happened to all of us sticking together?" Emily fired at them. She stood up quick and grabbed at her bag, slinging it over her shoulder.

Halle tried to get her to stay. "Em, you don't need—"

"Where are you going?" Aria asked, talking over Halle.

"To the restroom." Emily snarked, "but if you don't believe me, maybe we can all try and squeeze into one stall," before she stalked away.

Aria looked to the other questioningly. "Should one of us go after her?"

"No." Hanna's voice was soft, understanding towards Emily. "She'll talk when she's ready," she offered them.

Halle, too, stood up from the table, and Aria asked her, "where are you going?"

"Nurse's office," Halle answered. "This fever is becoming a migraine and I feel like smashing my head against a wall."

"Probably be less painful than this exam," Hanna muttered, getting a chuckle from the cheerleader before she headed out of the library herself.

And when she left, Spencer's phone chimed.

DEFINE "DESERTION".
SEEMS LIKE YOU'RE ABOUT TO LOSE EMILY. WHO'S NEXT?
--A.

•

Her body shook — violently. Halle laid on the floor of her English classroom and tried to calm herself. She was still too hot, and her brain was going into overload. A million thought ran around it at ninety-miles per hour. She was going to explode. She wanted to scream. But she couldn't. People would hear her. So, Halle settled for laying on the cold floor.

Tears leaked from her shut eyes. Down her cheeks and onto the tiles, they rolled. Her breath came out shaken, like she was dithering but she wasn't cold. She prayed for the silence in her head, slowly it would come.

"Halle?"

She sat up quick. Mr Fitz stood in the doorway of his classroom, soaked through from the storm still raging on outside. Alarm took a hold of her. She panicked. "Mr Fitz." Halle wiped furiously at her cheeks, under her eyes, by her nose. "Um..." she struggled but Halle got herself up from off the floor. "I'm sorry, I thought you'd be out still, sorry."

"It's okay, Halle." Her teacher reassured her. "It's fine. I have no problem with you being here." He placed his wet briefcase down on his desk. Cautiously, he asked, "are you okay?"

"Me?" Halle pointed to herself. She faked a laugh, as though it was ridiculous for him to ask, like her English teacher had not just seen and heard her sobbing on the floor of his classroom. "Me, yeah, no, I'm fine. Yeah, fine, peachy," she said.

"Why were you on the floor?"

"Imagining being on a train-track," she said. He didn't laugh. "Joke," stated Halle with a shrug, "I'm not very funny."

"Halle..." he said her name softly. It was supposed to be a question, him pressing her for answer, but didn't appear that way. He just wanted the truth and to help. Halle saw he wanted to help.

"Honestly, I just kinda have all these thoughts in my head right now and they've buzzing around, like, all the time," she told him. Her speech was rushed, erratic. "Constantly. My brain is, like, zip, zip, zip, with all these ideas and thoughts and feelings. Like, whoa, is it possible for someone to think this much? All the time, you know? And it's like it's in overload and I'm just gonna explode any second."

Halle gasped for air. "And I just get on the floor. I get on the floor and I make myself small. And I cry," admitted Halle, not even stopping to realise what she had confessed to her teacher. "Silently. To myself. I have done since I, well, since... I was a kid, I think. It helps, you know. And I just thought this was an empty classroom—" she gestured to him with her arm, "you've been out for week, since homecoming, so I chose here. And I got on the floor. And I cried." For a moment, she paused to see the man she had just unexpectedly imploded her problems onto her was staring at her. "Sorry." She grabbed her bag from the floor. "I'll be going on."

Mr Fitz's hand curled around Halle's arm as went to pass him. She was still in a panic, in a moment that spun around in her head; she was still in her head. "Halle, stop. Take a second," he told her. "You're not breathing properly."

"I am."

"Is it always that fast?" he asked her.

She took a second to think about what he just asked. Her breathing wasn't fast, she didn't think, but she could feel her heart in her ears. It was sometimes the only way she knew she was having a panic attack. She always breathed like that, quick and shallow. She knew she didn't. So, Halle answered him, "yeah, people just don't notice. I don't notice most of the time, it's normal."

"I guess they don't." He let go of her arm. "I didn't."

"It's okay. I went years without people noticing me before Alison came along," she offered him, to comfort him for not noticing. Halle gave him a shrug. "I probably should go, Mr Fitz. I have an exam to fail."

His ears picked up. "Fail?"

Halle chuckled, "Yeah, fail. Great attitude, I know, but I know my place." She said, "I'm a cheerleader."

"So?"

"It's my big ticket option," she said, but still he looked confused. "To college," Halle explained. "I'm not smart enough to get into college without it, therefore, big, shiny, gold ticket."

"Sit," Mr Fitz instructed. "Talk." He took off his wet coat finally, moving to lay it on the back of his chair, as Halle spoke.

"I need cheerleading to get into college, Mr Fitz. Especially if I wanna go to UPenn," she added.

"Why UPenn?" he asked. Mr Fitz made his way around to perch himself on the edge of his deck, facing her as she sat upon on the desk of the students.

"It's where my boyfriend goes," she told him. "He's a law and politics student. His father is Judge Kahn, he owns, like, half of Rhode Island, apparently."

"Wait—" Mr Fitz tried to take it all in but couldn't. "Kahn? You're dating Noel Kahn? I thought you said he was at UPenn, I've just seen Noel with Aria."

Halle burst into spontaneous giggles. She had giggles for no reason at all really, like a child. "No. No, Mr Fitz." Halle said, "My boyfriend is Eric Kahn, he's Noel's older brother. He graduated here a few years ago." She saw his raised eyebrows. "He's a good guy, promise, and he's the best for my future here in Rosewood."

Mr Fitz was stunned by the words she was saying. "What?"

"Come on, a girl of my stature, of my background, in a small town like Rosewood..." Halle gave him the hints, the ideas — he just had to connect the dots.

Of her stature, of her background — the colour of her skin. She prayed her caught on.

But Mr Fitz saw sadness in something else entirely. "You're going to say in Rosewood your entire life? Go to a college a train ride away and then come back here?"

"It's what I'm good for." Halle said, "Eric will be an attorney for the DA's office and make his way up to be a judge, like his father, eventually. I'll probably working the gallery like my mom does, but only work three days a week because of the kids, though I'm pretty certain I don't want kids if they're anything like me," she finished with a nervous chuckle, having realised she was ranting again. She truly had just dumped her life on her teacher.

"Halle. Slow down. Breathe. You're sixteen," said Mr Fitz. "That isn't your life set in stone, you can want something different. It's okay to want more or different."

Halle was quiet for the first time. Her eyes were dark, sad. There was such sadness behind them. "Is it?"

"Yes." Mr Fitz settled forward. "You are aware that you're one of the brightest students in my class, in your grade? Your piece on Harper Lee and the coexistence of good and evil was beautiful. And it was honest," he told her strongly. "Do you know how hard it is to find someone who writes with such honesty in tone? Nearly impossible, but you — you do it anyway. You bleed into your work, Halle, your essays are a joy to read, honestly. And you wanna know something else?" Mr Fitz informed her, "since I started teaching here, you have always had a high grade. You have never once turned in a bad piece, so why do you believe you'd fail without even taking the exam?"

"English is just one part—"

"You don't believe in yourself." He spoke boldly and truly, stunning her silent. "You need to let go of whatever it is that makes you think you're not good enough. Because you are. You can want something better for yourself, to believe you can achieve that on your own back, on your own intelligence. Because when you start to believe that, you'll know your worth." He nodded. "And, yeah, UPenn is a great school. A great school, an Ivy League, but that doesn't mean it's the best for you. Screw the Kahns," he exclaimed, and she laughed through her tears. He smiled at her. "Screw them and whoever told you that life you've got in your head is the only option you have." He stood up straight and reached out his hand, Mr Fitz wiping away a fallen tear from her cheek with the pad of his thumb. "You can have whatever you want in life, Halle." He chuckled, "you're a hurricane, no one's stopping you."

Halle nodding, her head hung low, absorbing his words and how he believed them. "Kinda ironic, all things considered," she commented, motioning to the thunder going on outside the classroom.

"Yeah, I suppose it is."

"Mr Fitz." Mr Sheldrake, from the history department, stopped at the door. He interrupted them; both Mr Fitz and Halle looking away from each other. "Halle."

The corners of Halle's mouth twitched upwards. "Mr Sheldrake."

"They want everyone is the locker rooms, safety warning for the tornado," Mr Sheldrake instructed them. He looked at Mr Fitz. "And I've been asked to send you to the store room for flashlights."

"Yeah, of course. I'll go now." He glanced at Halle, her looking down at her shoes as she didn't know what to do. "You should head to locker room, Halle."

"Yeah, I should." Halle gripped the strap of her bag and said, "thanks, Mr Fitz." She then pushed herself from the desk, Mr Fitz having to take a step back as they almost bumped into each other — they were close. She swallowed the lump in her throat and Halle made her way out of the classroom, passing her history teacher.

"Straight there, Halle Brewster," Mr Sheldrake told her, and she listened.

Halle headed for the locker room. She was about to round the hallway when she saw Detective Wilden leading Emily back to the library. A few seconds later, the others came out of the locker room. "What's going on?" Halle asked them.

"Where have you been?" Spencer asked her forcefully.

"Bathroom," Halle lied. "What's he want with Em?"

"We don't know, come on." Hanna grabbed Halle's hand and yanked her towards the library.

"Really didn't wanna die in a storm," Halle said, as she was dragged by her friends in search of Emily.

Spencer had barged her way into the library first. She was confrontational the second she saw Wilden with Emily, who was cowering under the detective's hard stare. "What is going on here?"

"Oh, perfect." Detective Wilden saw the four girls enter and it made up their five, the group he had been obsessed with since Alison's funeral. "We can all be together for an update."

"No, we're supposed to be in the girls' locker room," Hanna stated.

"Yeah, well. I'm guessing you girls are used to being in places you're not supposed to be." The Detective turned on Emily. "Did you tell your friends where you were last night? When you weren't studying for the test?"

"Hold up, American Psycho," Halle began. Her hands were up as she spoke. "You better cool it with what you're implying here."

"Oh, I'm not implying anything," he said to Halle. "See, I got these really interesting photos." He got out his phone and held it out for Emily to see. It was her, last night, at Alison's memorial; it destroyed and Emily on her knees as she cried. "Go ahead, pass it around. There's plenty more where that came from, at the precinct," he said.

Aria had taken the phone from out of Emily's grasp to look at it for herself. Hanna, Spencer and Halle looked at it too, and their stomachs dropped as well as their jaws.

"Em," said Halle softly. Seeing her best friend in not only emotional pain but physical too was enough to make her snap. Halle turned on the Detective. "This proves nothing, only that she was there. That isn't sufficient enough to charge her with anything."

"You're always the one to the rescue, huh, Halle? First to defend your friends, even when they're guilty." Detective Wilden motioned to Emily's trainers, he wanted to make an example of the girls — catch them out; Halle more than anyone, she was too smart for her own good. He said, "and I see you didn't get the chance to clean your shoes either."

"That's not why I went there," Emily spoke boldly.

"Really? So you didn't go back to the memorial to finish up Toby's handiwork?" he asked. "Or were you just there covering up his tracks?"

"I found it like that," Emily said. "It was already destroyed."

"Really." Detective Wilden was a wicked man, far too ambitious, and he depended too much on the fact they'd be scared because of his job title. He dug his hand into Emily's bag and pulled out something wrapped up in a t-shirt. "Well, then let me ask you question." He flicked open the shirt to reveal the memorial's figurines. "What were these things doing in your bag? Souvenirs? Something Toby asked you to save so he could keep it for his trophy collection?"

Emily snatched the one figure he had in his first away from him. "This has nothing to do with Toby."

"Em, why do you have those?" Aria asked her.

But instead of pressing her for answers, Hanna saw just how tortured their friend appeared, craving inwards from crying. And from it, Hanna grew angry. "No, you put those in there, you creep," she accused the detective. "Emily would never do that, the memorial was her idea."

"Yeah, so I heard." His words aimed to taunt Emily, to call her out. "Nice cover, huh?" Detective Wilden reached into the inside pocket of his coat and held up a letter. "You want me to share this with them?" Emily tried to snatch it from him, but Detective Wilden was too quick. He held it out of her reach. "Or would you like to?" he asked. "Go ahead and tell them, Emily, about the angry letter that you wrote to Alison. Which is dated, but the way," he spared a glance to her friends, mainly Halle, "three days before she disappeared."

It angered Emily, hot tears in her eyes as she was being torn apart. "You have no right to read that."

"Emily, what is in that letter?" Spencer asked.

"It doesn't matter," Halle snapped. "No, no, because, Detective Donkey-Face, here—" she glared at him, "shouldn't have it." She faced her faced her friends. "Em loved Alison, we all did. It doesn't matter what she wrote in the letter because she didn't do it." Halle's eyes went back to the detective. "She didn't hurt Ali or kill her, and she didn't trash the memorial."

Detective Wilden gave Halle a sick smirk. He kept on looking at Halle as he pressed Emily. "Tell her, Emily. Tell your best friend. Tell her how you wanted to punish Alison for rejecting you." He watched as Halle's fierce composure chipped away. "Tell her how you felt relieved at the funeral. Yeah," he turned his head to Emily, "she wasn't gonna be around to humiliate you anymore, was she?"

Emily caved. She gave in, letting her emotions get the better of her. She told her friend, "I went back to the memorial to say I was sorry. There were horrible things in that letter, and I didn't mean them," she insisted to the detective. "But then she was gone and—" Her watery eyes met Halle's and she confessed, "I loved her as more than a friend. I just never had the chance to tell her in the right way."

Detective Wilden was smirking, pleased with himself, and it just filled Hanna with fury. It was usually Halle that blew up — let her anger take charge — but this time, she didn't. If Halle was asked, she would say she'd much rather have a fight — be angry — than to cry, but all she wanted to do was weep for Emily. And Hanna was the one who got mad.

"Give her the letter back. Give her back the letter or I swear to god, I will rip your head off!" she yelled at him.

"Sorry. I can't," he stated. "And we're not leaving this room until you tell me what you were doing carting around pieces or Alison's memorial!" he got louder, more frustrated with them as he spoke. By the end, he was shouting at them.

"Hey, back the hell off," Halle said, her body protectively in front of Emily.

But Emily talked over her. She exclaimed back at the man, "I took them because they were the only things not broken."

Having heard the yelling, Veronica Hastings entered the library. She saw her daughter first, then her friends and then the detective from the hallway earlier. "What's going on in here?" she asked. "Why aren't they in the locker room with the other kids?"

"Who are you?" Detective Wilden asked, and Halle let out an amused scoff, my god, was he in for it now.

"Her mother." Veronica spoke sternly, her gesturing to Spencer, and then she moved to the girls. "I mean, if this is the school's idea of keeping my child safe, I'm glad I came back." She glances to her right and saw Emily in distress with Halle comforting her. "Honey— why is she crying?"

"He accused her of killing Alison," Spencer informed her mother as she too moved to stand beside Emily and comfort her.

Veronica was shocked. "What?"

Aria raged, "he went through her purse and now he's accusing her—"

"Oh, hold it." Veronica cut off the girl as she comprehended everything of which she was being told. "Hold it." The woman looked at the detective. "You're questioning minors without an adult present? What— what police department do you work for? What century are you from?" she questioned him, appalled, disgusted by his behaviour.

"Ma'am, I would advise you—"

"Oh, no," she halted him instantly. "I would advise you to back off, because anything they've just said is inadmissible in a courtroom. Period." Her fury at him was clear, but she was gentle with her daughter's friends. "Let's go. Emily, honey, grab your things."

All of the liars as they went to hell Emily gave Detective Wilden a glare. Hanna got Emily's bag, Spencer and Aria grabbed the figures from the table and Halle, bravely, went up to the man and took the letter right from out of his hand. She back away from him and when she went back to Emily, Halle slid her hand next to Emily's and entwined their pinky-fingers.

I got you.

•

Stood in the locker room, Mrs Hastings hadn't let the girls out of her sight again. Hanna asked her, "so what's gonna happen to him? Can they get him off the force?"

Veronica sucked in a breath and told them truthfully, "if he's smart enough, he'll leave before that happens."

"Who cares? Look what he did to Em," Halle said, sad eyes landing on the girl. Emily sat away from them, on the bench; her head hung low in her hand as she tried her best not to cry.

Halle didn't really pay much mind to anything else that was said. For the first time, in a long time, her head had gone quiet. There was only one thought and that was one of Emily, and then that went to Alison. Alison was gone — she was dead, murdered — but that didn't clean the bad on her ledger. Alison had humiliated Emily to the point of her being furious enough to write a letter; Halle had felt the same. She never wrote a letter, but she did something worse. Halle know too well the power of what Alison's taunts and jokes could drive a person to do in anger.

"I was just playing with you."

Emily wrote it down, and Halle betrayed Alison in the flesh. But others caught up in it too, and they got hurt.

Halle hurt them.

Him.

Jason.

"Can I have you attention please?" The lady from before stood in the middle of the locker room and raised her voice loud enough to be heard by everyone. "The storm warning has just been lifted," she declared, "but the SATs will have to be rescheduled."

Cheering began in the locker room. A sense of relief washed over the girls; they didn't have to sit the test today, after everything that happened. The storm had ended, and Halle's mind had cleared, almost.

Her mind went to Mr Fitz, and that was where her feet took her when they were given the okay to leave. Halle had collected her stuff from Hanna's locker and then made her way to Mr Fitz's English classroom. She knocked on the already open door and his head raised to see her stood in the doorway. "Hey, Mr Fitz."

"Halle, hey." He was sat at his desk, catching up on some work. He smiled at her, motioning with his head to the window, it no longer raining. "Storm's over."

"Yeah, I guess it is," Halle said, in hope he got what she meant by it. She said, "it was rather beautiful while it lasted."

"You should see it when it finally clears," Mr Fitz replied.

Halle smiled back at him, an actual smile, he got it. "Thank you. I'll see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," he answered. "I'll be back tomorrow."

"Good, I'll see you tomorrow then, Mr Fitz," Halle said.

"See you tomorrow, Halle."

•