Pretty Little Liars

Just You Wait

The organ started up again with its dreary music, and Ali’s brother and the others filed out of the church. Spencer, tipsy from a few slugs of whiskey, noticed that her three old friends had stood up and were filing out of the pew, and she figured she should go, too.

Everyone from Rosewood Day hung out at the back of the church, from the lacrosse boys to the video game-obsessed geeks who Ali no doubt would have teased back in seventh. Old Mr. Yew – the one in charge of the Rosewood Day charity drive – stood in the corner, talking quietly to Mr. Kaplan, who taught art. Even Ali’s older JV field hockey friends had returned from their respective colleges; they stood in a teary huddle near the door. Spencer scanned the familiar faces, remembering all the people she used to know and didn’t anymore. And then, she saw a dog – a seeing-eye dog.

Oh my God.

Spencer grabbed Aria’s arm. ‘By the exit,’ she hissed.

Aria squinted. ‘Is that . . . ?’

‘Jenna,’ Hanna murmured.

‘And Toby,’ Spencer added.

Emily turned pale. ‘What are they doing here?’

Spencer was too stunned to answer. They looked the same but totally different. His hair was long now, and she was . . . gorgeous, with long black hair and wearing big Gucci sunglasses.

Toby, Jenna’s brother, caught Spencer staring. A sour, disgusted look settled over his face. Spencer quickly jerked her eyes away.

‘I can’t believe he showed up,’ she whispered, too quietly for the others to hear.

By the time the girls reached the heavy wooden doors that led to the church’s crumbling stone steps, Toby and Jenna were gone. Spencer squinted in the sunlight of the brilliant, perfectly blue sky. It was one of those lovely early-fall days with no humidity, where you were dying to skip school, lie in a field, and not think about your responsibilities. Why was it always on days like this that something horrible happened?

Someone touched her shoulder and Spencer jumped. It was a blond burly cop. She motioned for Hanna, Aria, and Emily to go on without her.

‘Are you Spencer Hastings?’ he asked.

She nodded dumbly.

The cop wrung his enormous hands together. ‘I’m very sorry for your loss,’ he said. ‘You were good friends with Ms. DiLaurentis, right?’

‘Thanks. Yeah, I was.’

‘I’m going to need to talk with you.’ The cop reached into his pocket. ‘Here’s my card. We’re reopening the case. Since you were friends, you might be able to help us. Is it okay if I come by in a couple of days?’

‘Um, sure,’ Spencer stammered. ‘Whatever I can do.’

Zombielike, she caught up with her old friends, who’d gathered under a weeping willow. ‘What did he want?’ Aria asked.

‘They want to talk to me, too,’ Emily said quickly. ‘It’s not a big deal though, is it?’

‘I’m sure it’s the same old stuff,’ Hanna said.

‘He couldn’t be wondering about . . . ,’ Aria started. She looked nervously to the church’s front door, where Toby, Jenna, and her dog had stood.

‘No,’ Emily said quickly. ‘We couldn’t get in trouble for that now, could we?’

They all glanced at each other worriedly.

‘Of course not,’ Hanna finally said.

Spencer looked around at everyone talking quietly on the lawn. She felt sick after seeing Toby, and she hadn’t seen Jenna since the accident. But it was a coincidence that the cop had spoken to her right after she’d seen them, right? Spencer quickly pulled out her emergency cigarettes and lit up. She needed something to do with her hands.

I’ll tell everyone about The Jenna Thing. You’re just as guilty as I am. But no one saw me. Spencer nervously exhaled and scanned the crowd. There wasn’t any proof. End of story. Unless . . .

‘This has been the worst week of my life,’ Aria said suddenly.

‘Mine too.’ Hanna nodded.

‘I guess we can look on the bright side,’ Emily said, her voice high-pitched and jittery. ‘It can’t get any worse than this.’

As they followed the procession out to the gravel parking lot, Spencer stopped. Her old friends stopped too. Spencer wanted to say something to them – not about Ali or A or Jenna or Toby or the police, but instead, more than anything, she wanted to tell them that she’d missed them all these years.

But before she could say it, Aria’s phone rang.

‘Hang on . . . ,’ Aria muttered, rooting around in her bag for her phone. ‘It’s probably my mom again.’

Then, Spencer’s Sidekick vibrated. And rang. And chirped. It wasn’t just her phone, but her friends’ phones too. The sudden, high-pitched noises sounded even louder against the sober, silent funeral procession. The other mourners shot them dirty looks. Aria held hers up to silence it; Emily struggled to operate her Nokia. Spencer wrenched her phone out of her clutch’s pocket.

Hanna read her screen. ‘I have one new message.’

‘I do too,’ Aria whispered.

‘Same,’ Emily echoed.

Spencer saw she did, too. Everyone hit READ. A moment of stunned silence passed.

‘Oh my God,’ Aria whispered.

‘It’s from . . . ,’ Hanna squeaked.

Aria murmured, ‘Do you think she means . . .’

Spencer swallowed hard. In tandem, the girls read their texts out loud. Each said the exact same thing:

I’m still here, bitches. And I know everything.

—A

Acknowledgments I owe a lot to a great group of people at Alloy Entertainment. I’ve known them for years and without them, this book could never have happened. Josh Bank, for being hilarious, magnetic, and brilliant . . . and for giving me a chance years ago despite the fact that I so rudely crashed his company Christmas party. Ben Schrank, for encouraging me to do this project in the first place and for his invaluable writing advice. Of course Les Morgenstein, for believing in me. And my fantastic editor, Sara Shandler, for her friendship and dedicated help in shaping this novel.

I’m grateful to Elise Howard and Kristin Marang at HarperCollins for their support, insight, and enthusiasm. And huge thanks to Jennifer Rudolph Walsh at William Morris for all the magical things she made happen.

Thanks also to Doug and Fran Wilkens for a great summer in Pennsylvania. I’m grateful to Colleen McGarry, for reminding me of our junior high and high school inside jokes, especially those about our fictitious band whose name I won’t mention. Thanks to my parents, Bob and Mindy Shepard, for their help with sticky plot points and for encouraging me to be myself, however weird that might be. And I don’t know what I’d do without my sister, Ali, who agrees that Icelandic boys are pussies who ride small, gay horses and is okay with a certain character in this book being named after her.

And finally, thanks to my husband, Joel, for being loving, silly, and patient, and also for reading every draft of this book (happily!) and offering good advice – proof that boys might just understand more about girls’ inner struggles than we think.

What Happens Next . . .

I bet you thought I was Alison, didn’t you? Well, sorry, but I’m not. Duh. She’s dead.

Nope, I’m very much alive . . . and I’m very, very close. And for a certain clique of four pretty girls, the fun has just started. Why? ’Cause I say so.

Naughty behavior deserves punishment, after all. And Rosewood’s finest deserve to know that Aria’s been doing some extra-credit smooching with her English teacher, don’t they? Not to mention the nasty family secret she’s been hiding for years. The girl is a train wreck.

While I’m at it, I really ought to tip Emily’s parents off to the reason she’s been acting funny lately. Hey there, Mr. and Mrs. Fields, nice weather, huh? And by the way, your daughter likes kissing girls.

Then there’s Hanna. Poor Hanna. Just free-falling into dorkdom. She may try to claw her way back to the top, but don’t worry – I’ll be there waiting to knock her rapidly growing behind back into a pair of stonewashed mom-jeans.

Oh my god, I almost forgot Spencer. She’s a total mess! After all, her family thinks she’s a completely worthless skank. That’s gotta suck. And just between us, it’s about to get much worse. Spencer’s keeping a deep, dark secret that could pretty much ruin all four of their lives. But who would tell such an awful secret? Oh, I don’t know. Take a wild guess.

Bingo.

Life’s so much fun when you know everything.

Just how do I know so much? You’re probably dying to know, aren’t you? Well, relax. All in due time.

Believe me, I’d love to tell you. But what’s the fun in that? I’ll be watching.

—A

FAMILY TRUST

Amanda Brown

Becca Reinhart’s life is work, work, work. The youngest ever partner of Davis Capital, her job is her life and she has no intention of being sidetracked from it, especially not by all those, including her Jewish mother, who think that just because she’s 31 she should be settling down.

When Edward Kirkland isn’t at his racquet club, attending charity dinners or gala concerts, he’s being pursued by countless women who consider him to be the most eligible bachelor in town. But he has no desire to commit either, and his two dogs are his only constant companions.

A more unlikely pair you couldn’t hope to meet, but when Becca and Edward become joint guardians to a four-year-old child called Emily, their lives collide with a bang . . .

978 0 7515 3483 2

LEGALLY BLONDE

Amanda Brown

Elle Wood, University of Southern California sorority president and socio-political jewellery design major, is blonde, spoiled, creative and desperately in love with her college sweetheart, Warner Huntingdon III. But when Warner announces he’s dumping her to go off to Stanford, Elle decides that a little thing like law school won’t come between them. Anything Warner can do, she can do better.

Elle’s Stanford misadventures begin badly, and it seems the one place where blondes definitely don’t have more fun is law school. But then Elle’s asked to defend one-time fitness queen Brooke Vandermark on a murder charge. Seizing the opportunity to prove her worth to Warner and her fellow classmates, she vindicates all who are blonde with a tip any Cosmo girl should know.

978 0 7515 3455 9

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