A pretty little liars novel

a pretty little liars novel
 A PRETTY LITTLE LIARS NOVEL

           SARA SHEPARD

    An Imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

3
              PRETTY LITTLE LONER

“Connect with the divine source of all life,” a soothing voice
chanted in Aria Montgomery’s ears. “With every exhale, let
go of the tension in your body. First your arms, then your legs,
then the muscles in your face, then . . .”
   Bang. Aria opened her eyes. It was Thursday morning
at school. The door to the Rosewood Day auxiliary gym
had flung open, and a bunch of freshman girls dressed in
leotards and leg warmers pranced into the room for the
first-period modern dance class.
   Aria shot up quickly and pulled the headphones from
her ears. She’d been lying on a yoga mat on the floor,
thrusting her butt up and down in the air—the guru on the
meditation tape said that the motion would cleanse her
chakras and help her forget her past. But by the smirks on
some of the freshman girls’ faces, they probably thought
she was doing some kind of weird sex stretch.
   She scuttled into the busy Rosewood Day hall, tucking

36    F   SARA SHEPARD

the iPod back into her bag. All of the thoughts she’d tried
so hard to forget swarmed back into her head like a knot
of angry bees. Slipping into an alcove by the water foun-
tains, she grabbed her cell phone from her jacket pocket.
With one press of a button, she called up the page she’d
been stalking obsessively on Google for two weeks now.
     Tabitha Clark Memorial.
     Tabitha’s parents had set up the website to honor their
daughter. On it were Twitter posts from friends, pictures
of Tabitha from cheerleading practice and ballet recitals,
details about a scholarship set up in her name, and links
to Tabitha-related news stories. Aria couldn’t stop look-
ing at the page. She pounced on all of the news stories,
always terrified that something—or someone—would con-
nect Tabitha’s death with her.
     But everyone still thought Tabitha’s death was a tragic
accident. No one had even suggested that it might have
been murder, and no one had made the connection that
Aria and her friends had been in Jamaica the same time
Tabitha was and at the same resort. Even Aria’s brother,
Mike, and her boyfriend, Noel, who had been there as
well, didn’t comment on the news story. Aria wasn’t even
sure if they’d seen it. To them, it was probably just another
senseless death to tune out.
     There was one person who knew the truth, though. A.
     Someone giggled behind her. A bunch of sophomore
girls stared at Aria from a bank of lockers across the hall.
“Pretty Little Killer,” one of them whispered, sending

RUTHLESS      F   37

the rest into a fit of laughter. Aria winced. Ever since the
made-for-TV-movie of the same name had aired, kids
walked down the hall quoting lines from the biopic of
Real Ali’s life to her face. I thought we were best friends! TV
Aria said to Real Ali at the end, when Ali tried to burn
down the Poconos house. We were such losers before we met
you! Like Aria would have really said something like that.
   Then a familiar figure swept into view. Noel Kahn,
Aria’s boyfriend, guided Klaudia Huusko, the blond
Finnish exchange student who was living with his family,
into an English classroom. Klaudia grimaced with every
step, holding her Ace-bandaged ankle in the air and lean-
ing heavily on Noel’s muscled shoulder. Every guy in the
hall stopped and stared at Klaudia’s jiggling double-Ds.
   Aria’s heart started to bang. Two weeks ago, Noel, his
two older brothers, Aria, and Klaudia took a trip to a ski
resort in upstate New York. Once there, Klaudia told Aria
that she was making a move on Noel and there was noth-
ing Aria could do about it. Enraged, Aria had accidentally
pushed Klaudia off the chair lift in retaliation. Aria told
everyone Klaudia had slipped, and Klaudia played dumb
like she couldn’t remember what had happened, but Noel
blamed Aria anyway. Since the trip, he had fawned over
Klaudia’s sprained ankle day and night, driving her to
school, carrying her books between classes, and retriev-
ing her coffees and sushi platters during lunch. It was a
wonder he wasn’t feeding her sashimi with Rosewood
Day–embossed chopsticks.

38    F   SARA SHEPARD

     Playing Florence Nightingale meant there was no
time for Aria—not a hello in the halls, not even a phone
call. He’d bagged on their standing Saturday date to Rive
Gauche in the King James Mall for two weeks now. He’d
also skipped out on the cooking class they were taking
together at Hollis College, missing the class on grilling
and marinades.
     Noel emerged from the English classroom a minute
later. When he spied Aria, instead of pretending she
wasn’t there and turning away, as he’d done the past two
weeks, he strode straight toward her. Aria’s spirits lifted.
Maybe he was going to apologize for ignoring her. Maybe
things would go back to normal.
     She looked down at her trembling fingers. Her swirl-
ing nerves reminded her of the one and only time Noel
had spoken to Aria in seventh grade at one of Their Ali’s
parties. They’d actually hit it off, and Aria had been on
cloud nine until Ali sidled up to her later, telling Aria that
she’d had a big wedge of cilantro between her teeth the
entire time she and Noel had talked. “I really think Noel’s
out of your league,” Ali—really Courtney—had told Aria
in a gentle yet teasing voice. “And anyway, I think he likes
someone else.”
     Yeah, like you? Aria had thought bitterly. What guy
didn’t have a thing for Ali?
     Now, Noel stopped in front of a display case that
featured this year’s pieced-together and decorated Time
Capsule game flag, the emblem of the yearly Rosewood

RUTHLESS      F   39

Day scavenger hunt. Printed copies of other years’ flags
hung in the case as well—the real ones were buried
behind the soccer fields—including the one from when
Aria was in sixth grade. A big chunk of flag was missing
in the center—Real Ali had found that piece, Their Ali
had stolen it, and then Jason DiLaurentis, their brother,
had stolen it from both of them and given it to Aria. It
was all because of that Time Capsule piece that Their Ali
had been able to make the dangerous switch with her
twin sister, sending Real Ali off to the mental hospital
for four long years.
   “Hey,” Noel said. He smelled like orange soap and pep-
per, an unlikely combination Aria couldn’t get enough of.
When Aria glanced at his Manhattan Portage messenger
bag, she noticed that the party hat–wearing rhinoceros
button Aria had bought for him at a local craft show was
still nestled between his pins for Rosewood Day Lacrosse
and the Philadelphia Phillies. Rhino pin had to be a good
sign, right?
   “Hey,” Aria answered softly. “I’ve missed you.”
   “Oh.” Noel pretended to be fascinated with the square
face of his Omega watch. “Yeah, I’ve been really busy.”
   “Tending to Klaudia?” Aria couldn’t help but snap.
   Noel’s features hardened, as though he was about
to launch into his “She’s in a foreign country and you
should be more sensitive” speech again. But then he just
shrugged. “Um, we need to talk.”
   A rock-sized lump formed in Aria’s throat. “A-about

40    F   SARA SHEPARD

what?” she stammered, even though she had a horrible
feeling she knew what Noel was about to say.
     Noel pushed his yellow lacrosse bracelet, which all
the players wore in some über-masculine show of broth-
erhood, around his wrist. He wouldn’t look at Aria, not
even at her feet. “I don’t think it’s working between us,”
he said. His voice cracked a little.
     It felt like a karate kick to Aria’s stomach. “W-why?”
     Noel shrugged. His normally calm, easy-going face was
all scrunched up, and his flawlessly smooth skin looked
blotchy. “I don’t know. I mean, we don’t have that much
in common, do we?”
     The world suddenly went red. When Aria was pseudo-
friends with Klaudia for a nanosecond, Klaudia had
brought up how mismatched Aria and Noel were. Okay,
so Aria wasn’t like the lacrosse-playing, Ralph Lauren
Polo–wearing clones Noel usually dated, but Noel said he
liked that. Then again, how could she compare to an ice-
blond Finnish sex goddess?
     The all-natural cleanser the custodial staff used to mop
the floors swirled in Aria’s nose, making her queasy. A
large guy on the basketball team bumped into her, knock-
ing her into Noel, but Aria pulled away fast, suddenly
uncomfortable with touching him. “So that’s . . . it? All
the time we spent together . . . it just doesn’t matter?”
     Noel shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m sorry,
Aria.” He caught her eye, and for a split second, he
really did look sorry. But there was something closed-

RUTHLESS     F   41

off about him, too, like he’d already said good-bye to
her long ago.
   Tears wet the corners of Aria’s eyes. She thought of all
the weekends she’d spent with Noel. All the lacrosse games
she’d watched, even though she didn’t really understand
the nuances of the game. All the secrets she’d confessed,
like how she and Their Ali caught her father making out
with his student, Meredith, near Hollis College in seventh
grade. How when Real Ali returned last year and hit on
Noel, Aria was sure Noel would dump her. How after Real
Ali nearly killed them in the Poconos, she’d slept with the
light on and kept a samurai knife her father had bought
on a trip to Japan under her pillow. And how even though
Aria had lost her virginity to a boy in Iceland in tenth
grade, she’d wanted the second time she had sex to be
really, truly special. Maybe it was a good thing she’d held
out with Noel, considering what was happening now.
   But there were some secrets Aria hadn’t shared with
Noel. Like what she’d done to Tabitha or what had really
happened on their trip to Iceland. The Iceland incident
alone would have made Noel dump Aria long ago. Maybe,
in a twisted, karmic way, she deserved this.
   She heard a snicker and peered into the open class-
room door. Klaudia sat in the front row, her injured foot
propped up on a spare chair. Kate Randall, Naomi Ziegler,
and Riley Wolfe sat next to her—of course they’d all
become fast friends with the equally devious and gossipy
Klaudia. All four girls stared at her and Noel, big grins

42   F     SARA SHEPARD

on their faces. They had front-row seats to the breakup.
The news would be all over school in minutes. Pretty Little
Loser was just Pretty Little Dumped!
     Aria spun on her heel and marched toward the bath-
room before the tears started to fall. She peeked over her
shoulder, longing for Noel to call out her name, but he’d
turned and was walking in the opposite direction. When
he saw Mason Byers, one of his good friends, he stopped
and gave him a high five. Like he was carefree. Happy.
Thrilled to be rid of Kooky Aria Montgomery once and
for all.

HarperTeen is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers

                                 Ruthless
     Copyright © 2011 by Alloy Entertainment and Sara Shepard
 All rights reserved. Printed in the United States of America. No part
  of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever
   without written permission except in the case of brief quotations
   embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information address
HarperCollins Children’s Books, a division of HarperCollins Publishers,
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                          www.harperteen.com

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    Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

                       ISBN 978-0-0-620-8186-5

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