Unbelievable (Book Four)

Thirty: Three Little Words Can Change Everything.

Spencer sat at the roulette table, moving her shiny plastic casino chips from one palm to the other. As she placed a few chips on numbers 4, 5, 6, and 7, she felt the push of the crowd now gathered thickly behind her. It seemed like all of Rosewood was here tonight—everyone from Rosewood Day, plus the people from rival private schools who were staples at Noel Kahn's parties. There was even a cop here, wandering the perimeter. Spencer wondering why.

When the wheel stopped, the ball landed on the number 6. This was the third time in a tow she'd won. "Nice job," someone said in her ear. Spencer looked around, but she couldn't locate who'd spoken to her. It sounded like her sister's voice. Only, why would Melissa be here? No other college kids had come, and before Spencer's Golden Orchid interview, Melissa had said Hanna' party sounded ridiculous.

She did it, you know. Spencer couldn't get A's text out of her head.

She scanned the tent. Someone with chin-length blond hair was slinking toward the stage, but when Spencer stood up, the person seemed to have evaporated into the crowd. She rubbed her eyes. Maybe she was going crazy.

Suddenly, Mona Vanderwaal grabbed her arm. "Hey, sweetie. You have a sec? I have a surprise."

She led Spencer through the crowd to a more secluded spot, snapped her fingers, and a waiter magically appeared, handing each of them a tall, fluted glass filled with bubbly liquid. "It's real champagne," Mona said. "I wanted to propose a toast to thank you, Spencer. For planning this fantastic party with me...and also for being there for me. About...you know. The notes."

"Of course," Spencer said faintly.

They clinked glasses and sipped. "This party is really awesome," Mona went on. "I couldn't have done it without you."

Spencer waved her hand humbly. "Nah. You put it all together. I just made a couple of calls. You're a natural at this."

"We're both naturals at this," Mona said, belting back her champagne. "We should start a party-planning business together."

"And we'll flash country club boys on the side," Spencer joked.

"Of course!" Mona chirped, bumping Spencer's hip.

Spencer ran her finger up and down the length of the champagne flute. She wanted to tell Mona about her newest text from A—the one about Melissa. Mona would understand. Only, the DJ switched songs to a fast one by OK, Go, and before Spencer could say a word, Mona squealed and made a run or the dance floor. She glanced over her shoulder at Spencer, as if to say, Are you coming? Spencer shook her head.

The few sips of champagne had made her dizzy. After a couple minutes of wading through the crowd, she walked out of the tent into the clear night air. Except for the spotlights that surrounded the tent, the fold course was very dark. The man-made grassy knolls and sand traps weren't visible, and Spencer could only see the bare outlines of the trees in the distance. Their branches waved like bony fingers. Somewhere, a bunch of crickets screamed.

A doesn't know anything about Ali's killer, Spencer assured herself, looking back at the fuzzy shapes of the partygoers inside. And anyway, it made no sense—Melissa wouldn't ruin her whole future by killing someone over a guy. This was just another one of A's tactics to make Spencer believe something that wasn't true.

She sighed and headed off for the bathroom, which were outside the tent in a bubble-shaped trailer. Spencer climbed the wheelchair ramp and pushed through the flimsy plastic door. Of the three stalls, one was occupied, and two were empty. As she flushed and wriggled her dress back into position, the bathroom's main door slammed shut. Pale silver Loeffler Randall shoes made their way over to the trailer's minuscule sink. Spencer clapped her hand over her mouth. She'd seen those shoes plenty of times before—they were Melissa's favorite pair.

"Uh, hi?" Spencer said when she stepped out of her stall. Melissa was leaning against the sink, her hands on her hips, a small smile on her face. She wore a long, narrow black dress with a slit up the side. Spencer tried to breathe calmly. "What are you doing here?"

Her sister didn't say anything, just kept staring. A droplet of water struck the sink basin, making Spencer jump.

"What?" Spencer sputtered. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Why did you lie to me again?" Melissa growled.

Spencer pressed her back against one of the stall doors. She looked back and forth for something use as a weapon. The only thing she could think of was her shoe's kitten heel, and she slowly slid her foot out of the box. "Lie?"

"Ian told me he was in your hotel room last night," Melissa whispered, her nostrils flaring in and out. "I told you he wasn't good at keeping a secret."

Spencer's eyes widened. "We didn't do anything. I swear."

Melissa took a step toward her. Spencer covered her face with one hand pulled her shoe off her foot with the other. "Please," she begged, holding out her shoe like a shield.

Melissa hovered just inches from her face. "After all you admitted to me at the beach, I thought we had an understanding. But I guess not." She whirled around and stormed out of the bathroom. Spencer heard her clonk down the ramp and stamp across the grass.

Spencer leaned over the sink and rested her forehead on the mirror's cool surface. Suddenly, a toilet flushed. After a pause, the third stall door swung open. Mona Vanderwaal strode out. There was a horrified look on her face.

"Was that your sister?" Mona whispered.

"Yeah," Spencer sputtered, turning around.

Mona grabbed Spencer's wrists. "What's going on? Are you okay?"

"I think so." Spencer stood back up. "I just need a second alone is all."

"Of course." Mona's eyes widened. "I'll be outside if you need me."

Spencer smiled gratefully at Mona's back. After a pause, she heard the flick of a lighter, and the sparkly, burning sound of Mona taking a drag of a cigarette. Spencer faced the mirror and smoothed down her hair. Her hands shook wildly as she reached for her sequined clutch, hoping there was a tube of aspirin inside. Her hands bumped against her wallet, her lip gloss, her poker chips...and then something else, something square and glossy. Spencer pulled it out slowly.

It was a photograph. Ali and Ian stood close together, their arms entwined. Behind them was a round, stone building, and behind that was a line of yellow school buses. By the looks of Ali's shaggy haircut and her tropical-shade long-sleeve J. Crew polo, Spencer was pretty sure this photo had been taken during their class trip to see Romeo and Juliet at the People's Light playhouse a few towns away. A bunch of Rosewood Day students had gone along—Spencer, Ali, her other friends, and a slew of juniors and seniors like Ian and Melissa. Someone had written something in big, jagged letters over Ali's smiling face.

You're head, bitch.

Spencer stared at the handwriting, immediately identifying it. Not too many people made their lowercase a's look like a curly number 2. Cursive was practically the only thing Melissa had gotten a B in, ever. Her second-grade penmanship teacher chastised her, but making funny-looking a's was a habit Melissa had never been able to break.

Spencer let the picture slip from her hands and let out a small, pained yelp of disbelief. "Spencer?" Mona called from outside. "You okay?"

"Fine," Spencer said after a long pause. Then, she looked down at the floor. The photo had landed facedown. There was more writing on the back.

Better watch your back...or you'll be a dead bitch too. —A