“Sorry,” Aria said, yanking her hand away. Her cheeks blazed.

Noel leaned his elbows on the table. “So, you bolted from the séance yesterday. Everything cool?”

Aria shoved the pretzel in her mouth fast so she wouldn’t have to answer.

“That medium guy was bogus,” Noel added. “A total waste of twenty bucks.”

“Uh-huh,” Aria mumbled, crunching pensively. She was very sad, Equinox the medium had said. Maybe he was bogus, but what if that part was true? Mrs. DiLaurentis had insinuated as much the day after Ali went missing. A few unsettling memories about Ali had popped into Aria’s mind over the past twenty-four hours, too. Like the time that, not long after they’d become friends, Ali had invited Aria to go with her and her mom to the family’s new vacation home in the Poconos; her dad and Jason were staying in Rosewood. The house was a big, rambling Cape Cod with a patio, a game room, and a hidden staircase that led from one of the back bedrooms to the kitchen. one morning, when Aria was playing on the secret stairs by herself, she’d heard whispering through the grates.

“I just feel so guilty,” Ali was saying.

“You shouldn’t,” her mother replied sternly. “This isn’t your fault. You know this is the best thing for our family.”

“But . . . that place.” Ali sounded repulsed. “It’s so . . . sad.”

At least that was what Aria thought Ali had said. Ali’s voice got very low after that, and Aria couldn’t hear anything else.

According to the logbook Emily found at the Radley, Jason began visiting the hospital right around the time Aria, Ali, and the others became friends. Maybe the place Ali was referring to in that conversation with her mom was the Radley. Perhaps Ali felt guilty that Jason was there. Maybe it had been Ali’s final decision that he go. As much as Aria didn’t want to believe that Ali and Jason had issues, maybe they did.

She felt Noel’s eyes on her, waiting for an answer. This wasn’t worth thinking about now, especially with Noel sitting here. “There’s no such thing as ghosts speaking to us from the afterlife,” she mustered, parroting Spencer’s sentiment.

Noel stared at her indignantly, like Aria had just told him there was no such thing as lacrosse. As he shifted his weight, Aria could smell his spicy, woodsy deodorant. It was surprisingly pleasant. “What if Ali really does have something to tell you? Are you sure you want to give up now?”

Suspicion boiled in Aria’s stomach. Fed up, she slammed her palm on the table. “Why do you care? Did someone put you up to this? Is this some weird lacrosse prank to embarrass me?”

“No!” Noel’s mouth drooped. “Of course not!”

“Then why were you at a seance? Guys like you aren’t into this stuff.”

Noel lowered his chin. “What do you mean, guys like me?”

Meredith slammed an upstairs door shut, making the whole house shiver. Aria had never actually told anyone that she’d dubbed guys like Noel Typical Rosewood Boys—not her parents, not her friends, and certainly not a Typical Rosewood Boy himself. “You seem so, well, preppy,” she fudged. “Well adjusted.”

Noel rested his elbow on a stack of baby catalogues, his dark hair falling into his face. He breathed in a couple times, as if he was ramping up to say something, and finally looked up. “Okay, it’s true—I don’t go to seances because I like Led Zeppelin.” He shot her a look out of the corner of his eye, then stared into his glass, as if the ice cubes were tea leaves that contained his future. “Ten years ago, when I was six, my brother killed himself.”

Aria blinked, caught off guard. She thought of Noel’s two brothers, Erik and Preston. They were constant fixtures at the Kahns’ house parties, even though they were both in college. “I don’t understand.”

“My brother Jared.” Noel rolled the top catalogue tightly in his hands. “He was a lot older. My parents don’t talk about him much anymore.”

Aria clutched the edge of the worn table. Noel had had another brother? “How did it happen?”

“Well, my parents were out,” Noel explained. “Jared was babysitting me. We were playing Myst, this computer game, but then it got late and I started dozing off. Jared seemed reluctant to put me to bed, but he finally did. When I woke up a while later, something just felt . . . weird. The house was too quiet or something. So I got up and walked to the end of the hall. Jared’s door was closed, and I knocked, but he didn’t answer. So I just went in. And . . .” Noel shrugged and unfurled the catalogue. It flopped open to a page showing a blond, smiling baby in a red bouncy chair. “There he was.”

Having no idea what to say, she touched Noel’s hand. He didn’t pull away.

“He’d . . . you know. Hung himself.” Noel closed his eyes. “I didn’t really understand what I was seeing at first. I thought he was just playing or whatever, maybe punishing me because I hadn’t stayed up to play Myst with him longer. My parents came home then and I don’t remember anything after that.”

“God,” Aria whispered.

“He was going to Cornell the following year.” Noel’s voice cracked. “He was an all-star basketball player. His life seemed . . . awesome. My parents didn’t see it coming either. Neither did my brothers or his girlfriend. No one did.”

“I’m so sorry,” Aria whispered. She felt like an insensitive, sanctimonious ass. Who knew Noel had such an awful secret? And here she thought he’d been just pulling a stupid prank on her. “Have you ever been able to talk to him at seances?”

Noel fiddled with the frog-shaped saltshaker in the middle of the table. “Not really. But I keep trying. And I talk to him at the cemetery a lot. That seems to help.”

Aria made a face. “I’ve tried to do that with Ali, but I always feel so weird. Like I’m talking to myself.”

“I don’t think so,” Noel said. “I think she’s listening.”

The vacuum cleaner groaned to life, vibrating the ceiling above them. Aria and Noel sat still for a moment, listening. Noel’s piercing green eyes met hers. “Can you keep this to yourself? You’re kind of the only person who knows.”

“Of course,” Aria said quickly, studying Noel. He didn’t seem mad that she’d forced this out of him at all.

When she looked down, she realized that her hand was still touching his. She pulled it away fast, suddenly feeling very flustered. Noel was still staring at her. Aria’s heart began to pound. She fidgeted nervously with the antique silver chain around her neck. Noel moved closer and closer until she could feel his breath on her neck. It smelled like black licorice, one of Aria’s favorite candies. She held her breath, waiting.

But then, as if awakening from a dream, Noel jerked back, grabbed his glass from the table, and stood. “I guess I’ll go find Mike now. See ya.”

Giving her a little wave, he ducked through the archway and into the hall. Aria pressed her cool glass of water to her forehead. For a moment there, she’d thought Noel was going to kiss her. And in a very untypical Aria moment, she kind of wished he had.

Chapter 14

Even Good Girls have Secrets

Early that same Wednesday evening, Emily crunched across the fields behind Lucy’s house, carrying a bucket of water to the animals in the barn. The wind whipped across her face, making her eyes water. A couple of houses in the distance already had their lanterns lit, and a horse and buggy clopped up the dirt path toward the road, the reflective, triangular sign on its back glowing.

“Thanks,” Lucy called, catching up to Emily. She carried a bucket of water too. “After this, all we have to do is clean the floors of Mary’s house for her wedding ceremony on Saturday.”

“Okay,” Emily said. She didn’t dare ask why Mary was having her wedding in her house instead of the church. It was probably just some Amish thing she was supposed to know.

Their day had been jam-packed with early-morning farm chores, hours at the one-room schoolhouse reading Bible passages and helping the younger kids learn the alphabet, and then helping Lucy’s mom prepare dinner. Mr. and Mrs. Zook, Lucy’s parents, looked classic National Geographic Amish—Lucy’s father had a big, bushy, gray, moustacheless beard and wore a black hat, and her mother had a stern, makeupless face and rarely smiled. Still, they seemed gentle and kind enough—and they didn’t suspect Emily was faking. Or if they did, they didn’t say anything. But amid all that activity, Emily had still looked for clues about Ali everywhere they went. But no one had uttered a name even close to one that sounded like Alison or talked of the missing girl from Rosewood.

Most likely, A had just taken out a map of the U.S. and blindly picked any old place to ship Emily off to, eager to get her out of Rosewood. And Emily had fallen for it. Emily had tried to turn her phone back on this morning to see if A had written her again, but the battery had died. Her return bus ticket was for Friday afternoon, but she was considering leaving early. What was the point in staying here if she wasn’t going to find any answers?

But a big part of Emily didn’t want to believe that A was truly evil. A had given them all kinds of clues—maybe they’d just put the puzzle together incorrectly. What else had A told them that pointed to where Ali might be now . . . or where she’d been all along? As Emily stood on the porch, the chilly wind sneaking down her collar, she saw a dark-haired girl carrying a bucket of water into a barn across the field. From this distance, the girl looked a lot like Jenna Cavanaugh.

Jenna. Could she be the answer? A had sent Emily an old photo of Jenna, Ali, and the back of an anonymous blond girl—probably Naomi Zeigler—standing in Ali’s yard. One of these things doesn’t belong, said A’s accompanying note. Figure it out quickly ... or else.

A had also tipped off Emily that Jenna and Jason DiLaurentis were arguing at Jenna’s window. Emily had seen the fight with her own eyes, though she had no idea what it could’ve been about. Why would A show her these things? Why would A say that Jenna didn’t belong? Was A simply pointing out that Jenna and Ali were closer than everyone thought? Jenna and Ali had co-conspired in getting rid of Toby for good; perhaps Ali had confided in Jenna that she’d planned to run away. Perhaps Jenna had even helped her.

Emily and Lucy walked down the front steps and across the field to Mary’s parents’ house. A buggy was parked in the gravel lot, and there were an old-fashioned seesaw and tire swing near the front porch, crusted over with snow. Before they started up the porch, Lucy gave Emily a sidelong glance. “Thanks for everything, by the way. You’ve been a huge help.”

“No problem,” Emily said.

Lucy leaned against the porch railing, looking like she wasn’t finished. Her throat bobbed as she swallowed, and her eyes looked even greener in the dying, slanted light. “Why are you really here?”

Emily’s heart shot to her throat. There was a clattering sound from inside the house. “W-what do you mean?” she stammered. Had Lucy found her out?