A Pretty Little Parody [PLL]

22. Kids of the Future

“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” A asked me the next afternoon. We were on the phone and we were getting closer and closer (and closer) by the second.

“One,” I said, propping my feet up onto the windowsill so that the breeze tickled them. Then I realized my mistake and quickly backtracked. “And that would be Moby. He’s pretty much my brother. “How ‘bout you?”

“None. It was tough growing up. I was always playing by myself.”

“That sucks,” I sighed. “Is that where you first learned to stalk people?”

“Yeah, actually,” he said, sounding surprised. “There was nothing better to do. First I was just a peeping Tom--I looked through people’s windows. Then I started taking pictures. And then I tapped their phones and installed recording devices in their webcams. Word got around that I got the dirt on everyone, and some people wanted a private investigator at half the price. Pretty soon I was in business.”

“Wow, that sounds elaborate.” A was obviously pretty proud of himself--and who wouldn’t be? He was probably gonna be the next slightly creepier version of Sherlock Holmes.

“It was still a tough childhood, though,” he said now, sounding a little sad. “I never had an accomplice. I was always by myself.”

“I would have loved to be your accomplice,” I purred into the phone. “I’m pretty good at…getting people to tell me their deepest secrets.”

“What’s your deepest secret?” A asked me, his low, husky breath in my ear.

“I’m not telling,” I said playfully.

“Okay, I can wait. How about friends? You got a best friend, or a group of people, or what?”

“A group,” I said. “They’re all my best friends.” I looked out into the clear blue sky and felt a pang of regret at how things had ended with Scott. “I’m not sure if they still feel the same way about me, though.”

“Are you in a fight? Scott seemed pretty upset when I checked up on him today.”

I thought about confessing all my troubles to A but decided to not give him free tips. We weren’t that close yet, anyway. “Not exactly. They’re just being lame. Ever get that feeling, that your friends are being annoying and not listening to you?”

“I don’t have many friends,” he said, “but yeah, I know what you mean.”

“I know how you can make some,” I said, an idea suddenly springing into my head. “I’m going to have a party before graduation. Just a small group of friends, but I’d love it if you could come.” I actually felt a twinge of nerves as the words spilled out of my mouth. Was I actually nervous about being rejected?

“When is it?” A asked.

“Friday,” I said, making up a date on the spot. I crossed my room and circled Friday’s date on my calendar with a highlighter. “Just at my house. Totally casual.”

“Um…”

“Rosebush’s hottest targets will be there,” I said.

There was a creak behind me before A could answer. My mom was standing in the hall, a super-nervous-slash-worried expression on her face. It was the kind of look nobody ignored; the kind that told me she had something important she wanted to say.

I clutched the phone to my ear. “I have to go. Text me.” Then I ended it.

My mom stepped into the room. “Can you come downstairs, Sasha? Just for a few minutes. Your dad and I have something to discuss with you. Something important.”