Ali's Pretty Little Lies (Prequel)

Thirty-Four: Missing: Alison DiLaurentis.

Mrs. DiLaurentis looked confused. "Were you trying to hang out with your sister and her friends? Did you go into Spencer's barn?"

Ali shrugged. "Yeah, I was in Spencer's barn—I'm Ali. But the sleepover sucked. We had a fight, and we all went him. I already told you."

Mrs. DiLaurentis blinked hard. "So no one's in the barn anymore?"

"Yeah. They went home."

Looking like she didn't quite believe her, Mrs. DiLaurentis walked swiftly to the window in the bathroom, which offered a view of the backyards. Ali already knew the barn's windows were dark. Seconds later, her mom wheeled back into Ali's room. "Where's your sister?"

"Courtney?" Ali stared at her innocently. "I have no idea. She's not in her room?"

Mrs. DiLaurentis poked her head into the guest room, then shook her head.

Ali widens her eyes. "She got out? You weren't watching her? It's the only thing I asked you to do!" She made her voice rise and fall, the same way her sister had when she'd freaked out to her mother when she'd found out that Ali had met her friends.

Frazzled, Mrs. DiLaurentis ran her hands through her hair. "We'll get it sorted out." She touched her hair. "We'll get it sorted out." She touched her daughter's arm. "Good night...Ali." The name sounded awkward coming out of her mouth, like she'd never used it in her life.

"Goodnight," Ali had said, grabbing pajamas from the top drawer. Her sister liked Pink boxers from Victoria's Secret—so lame. But she dutifully pulled on, feeling a rush of triumph. Her parents might have been a little confused at first, but they had bought it in the end. She was sleeping in her old room. Yes.

But this morning, with her parents staring at her and calling her Courtney, doubt crept into her mind. Maybe her panic had seemed too staged. Maybe she'd grabbed a pair of pajamas that her sister would have never chosen. Maybe they were hung up on that missing A ring. And she had heard them downstairs until all hours of the night, pacing, murmuring into the phone, opening the front door and shutting it again. She'd heard them moving around at midnight, and then two, and then four, and then five thirty. They might not have slept at all.

"Go upstairs, okay?" Mrs. DiLaurentis's patience was wearing thin. "Spencer and the other girls are coming over soon. I'd like to ask them questions without explaining anything."

Ali made her breathing quicken like she was afraid. "So Courtney did take off? See? This is why I didn't want her back! She's totally mental, Mom. That's why you locked her up. Who knows what she's going to do now? What if she tried to hurt me?"

Mrs. DiLaurentis gave her husband a plaintive glance. Mrs. DiLaurentis just looked at her helplessly. She turned back to Ali. "Just go upstairs until we figure all this out."

Sighing dramatically, Ali thumped up the stairs, trying to hold it together. Once in her old bedroom, though, she sank to her knees, her mind thrumming. Why wasn't this working? Why didn't they believe her? She needed an airtight alibi. If those girls were coming over, they were probably going to ask where she'd gone last night, and when. There were probably twenty minutes that were unaccounted for—her parents would ask where she was. Talking on the phone, she could say. Walking around, blowing off steam.

But they were supposed to just believe her. They weren't supposed to shoo her away or question those girls without her around.

The doorbell rang. The door squeaked open, and the sounds of Mrs. DiLaurentis's and the girls' voices rang through the foyer. There were footsteps, and then the scrape of the chairs being pulled back for everyone to sit. Ali crept out of her room and slipped to the bottom of the stairs. All four girls sat around the table, staring at their hands. All of them were quiet, as though they were hiding something. Emily picked at her cuticles. Spencer drummed her fingers on the table. Aria inspected a pineapple-shaped napkin holder, and Hanna chew voraciously on a piece of gum.