Chapter Text
September 1st, 2011. Thursday
1 year later
“Mom!” Vanessa Carter called from her bedroom; she was elbows deep in a cardboard box that had Vee’s Clothes scrawled across it in black marker. Her voice sounded louder and echoed in the empty bedroom. The sun shined in from the picture window on the left side of the room, above the padded window seat.
“Mom!” Vanessa called again, pulling her arms out and peering into the box, her shirts, blouses, and jeans were mixed in a pile. She knew she should’ve organized better during the move but she couldn’t have been bothered. Moving stressed her out and she had been too busy not having an emotional breakdown to consider putting her clothes in separate boxes based on where they went on her body.
But now she couldn’t find her favorite pair of distressed jeans and she had looked everywhere for them! She’d even checked the moving van to see if they had fallen out but they hadn’t been there. She’d go check the old house—God, old house, they had just moved out of it two days ago—but that was locked up for the new owners. But, then again, would it be breaking and entering if she had lived there just last week?
“What?” Vanessa’s mother, Michelle Carter, asked as she stood in the doorway.
“Have you seen my jeans? The distressed Seven ones?” Vanessa looked up from rifling through the box. “I’ve looked all over for them but I can’t find them.”
Michelle squinted, her arms folding across her light blue cotton t-shirt. “Are those the hole-y ones? With the frayed knees?” She cocked her head at Vanessa.
Vanessa nodded, “Yeah, have you seen them?” Her voice hopeful as she stood up from her crouch. Maybe her mom had packed them with her stuff by mistake. At least they weren’t locked away in the old house or lying in a ditch somewhere.
“Yes,” Michelle answered with a helpful smile.
“Great!” Vanessa grinned, she started toward the doorway, “I thought—”
“I threw them out.” Her mother proclaimed with an assuring nod.
Vanessa paused, the grin slipping from her face, “You – you what?” She blinked at Michelle like she had sprouted three heads and a tail.
“I threw them out.” She repeated, “I thought they were old? They had all those holes and tears in them.” She dropped her arms to her sides and looked at her daughter innocently.
Vanessa widened her eyes, her mouth opening and closing as she tried to figure out what to say. She took a breath, shaking her head, “Mom . . . that’s the point.” She squeaked, “They are supposed to look old and – and tattered—that’s why they’re called distressed jeans! They’re in distress, Mom!” Her voice rose in exasperation as she lifted a hand and let it fall to her side.
Michelle furrowed her brow, “So . . . they were made to look like that on purpose?” She gave Vanessa a disbelieving look.
Vanessa nodded, “Yes, that’s what makes them cool.”
Michelle snorted and shook her head, she reached out a hand and placed it on Vanessa’s shoulder. “Oh, honey, I did you a favor.” She laughed, “I may be old but I’m still young enough to know that wearing ripped denim doesn’t mean you’re cool. It means you just got out of a fight.”
Vanessa shrugged off her mother’s hand, “Mother.” She groaned and turned to go back to her box. “Fashion has changed since you were my age. What’s old and ratty to you, is cool and trendy to me.” She crouched down in front of the box and started taking things out.
Michelle scoffed, “You’ll thank me one day, baby.”
Vanessa shook her head, “Doubtful.” She sighed as she began to put her clothes into separate piles on the hardwood floor. Her jean drawer would be missing a pair. Thanks, Mom.
“Anyway, finish up with this box and come downstairs, the movers want to get your bed in here before this evening,” Michelle explained.
“Okay,” Vanessa nodded, getting up from the floor and taking her jeans pile over to her white oriental dresser. It was across from the picture window, beside her laundry basket in the corner. Her bed would go in the middle of the room.
“How many more boxes do you have left?” Her mother walked into the room and began to collect shirts.
“Um, five more,” Vanessa said, she closed the dresser drawer and went to pick up her blouses. “But those are mostly shoes and make-up and stuff.”
“Okay, that’s good. I think—at this rate—we should be all unpacked before school starts.” Michelle smiled as she put the shirts in a drawer.
They had moved into their new house bit by bit, slowly moving furniture and kitchen wear into the house every few days. It had taken them four weeks before they had found themselves sitting on the living room floor of their old house, eating Chinese with plastic forks. Vanessa had even spent her seventeenth birthday helping her mom and the movers carry their sectional couch into the new living room. But it was worth it now that they had a new house to live in. Even though leaving their old one, the house Vanessa had known her whole life, had been more emotional than she’d expected. But that old house held old memories—some Vanessa was thankful to get away from—and this house would create new memories, better memories.
It’s been a year, she couldn’t help but think as she closed her dresser drawer. A year since Ali . . . She shook herself. No, she wasn’t going to think about that. Not now, not ever. Ali was the past—she was . . . gone—Vanessa wouldn’t allow herself to get swallowed by grief again. She’d smile and move forward, into her new house, her junior year at Rosewood Day—the private school she attended—and the rest of her life.
Dwelling on something she couldn’t change wouldn’t help. Remembering a tragedy—because losing Ali had been tragic for her and everyone in Rosewood—wouldn’t help her move on. Heal. Forget. Vanessa had to move on from Ali and everything that followed because if she didn’t then she’d never make it out of Rosewood alive.
* * *
After unpacking the last of her boxes and getting her bed into place, Vanessa’s bedroom was officially complete. It had taken most of the next day to finish but now everything was exactly how she wanted it. When she had finished her bedroom she had helped her mom unpack the last of the kitchenware and start on the bathroom upstairs and the one that connected to Vanessa’s room. The living room was set up, as was the dining room and Michelle’s study. Their house was livable. They had celebrated on Sunday with pizza and Netflix.
Now it was Tuesday, the first day of junior year, and Vanessa stood in front of her full-length mirror that sat in the corner of her bedroom. She leaned in, careful not to smudge her concealer as she lined her eyes with black eyeliner. She wanted to look her best for her first day back at school.
Which is why she’d spent hours the night before going through her closet for something to wear. She’d regretted not joining her best friend, Amber Maddox, back to school shopping on Saturday. But she would’ve felt bad leaving her mom to do all the unpacking herself, so sacrifices were made.
Leaning back, Vanessa capped her eyeliner pencil and let her gaze roam her finished appearance. Her knee-length, light pink, floral dress was wrinkle-free and perfect for the seventy-degree weather that was to hit Rosewood later in the day. She’d paired the dress with gray ankle boots from Target (yes, she shopped at Target, she and her mother thrived for Target’s clearance section).
To top the ensemble off, she’d added a silver dove pendant necklace that she’d gotten as a birthday gift from her dad. (Though she tried not to think about that too much, remembering him and how close they used to be just made her think of how far away they were now). Coupled with the necklace was a pair of silver hoop earrings.
Feeling satisfied with her look, Vanessa smiled at herself in the mirror, flipped back her freshly curled hair, and turned her back on her appearance. Today would be a good day.
As she made her way downstairs, Vanessa could hear the sound of the TV that her mother always kept on as she cooked meals. Today, Michelle was listening to the news, apparently some teenagers had gotten arrested for petty theft at the mall. Grabbing her school bag from the foyer, Vanessa looked through it to make sure she had everything she needed. Notebooks for each subject; an empty binder for any handouts she got during the day; a pencil case with an array of pencils, pens, highlighters, and a pencil sharpener.
Walking into the kitchen, Vanessa’s mother turned around and gave her daughter a bright smile. “Morning, honey.” She placed a plate of eggs, toast, and turkey bacon onto the kitchen island. An empty glass and a pitcher of orange juice beside it. “Eat up.”
Vanessa took a seat, facing the small, wide TV that hung on the wall across from the island. An anchorwoman with a blunt blonde bob was rattling off stock market numbers and saying that they were the lowest they’ve ever seen this month.
“Morning,” Vanessa said as she took a bite of turkey bacon. She poured herself some orange juice.
“Ready for your first day of junior year?” Michelle grinned as she set her plate of food down across from her daughter.
Vanessa swallowed, “Yeah, can’t wait to be back in the packed hallways and fight for a decent parking spot in the student lot.” Her voice sarcastic, but joking.
“That’s the spirit!” Michelle pumped a fist before digging into her eggs. “I can’t believe you’re going to be a junior.” She said through a mouthful of eggs. “My baby is growing up.” She swallowed and gave Vanessa a tender look. “Feels like just yesterday I was potty training you and wrestling you into wearing stockings.”
Vanessa rolled her eyes but smiled at her mom. “That was yesterday.” She teased, forking eggs into her mouth.
“Oh,” Michelle pursed her lips, faking realization, “Right.” She nodded to herself before going back to her food.
Vanessa giggled into her glass of orange juice. “Are you off today?” She set her glass down, dapping at her mouth with a napkin from the holder beside the pitcher.
Michelle was an event planner, the best in Rosewood, and she was usually busy with a boatload of new clients by now. Some wanting help planning their daughters’ sweet sixteen, or seventeen; others needing help with their autumn wedding or retirement party. She rented an office in downtown Rosewood; she shared the building with other small businesses and worked on the top floor.
“No,” Michelle answered as she finished her piece of toast. “I have to go in today at noon and finish up a mockup of a reception for next month.” She dusted crumbs off her fingers.
“Oh.” Vanessa smiled, she loved hearing about Michelle’s wedding clients, the good and the bad.
One time, Michelle had told her about a bride who’d had a meltdown over the table linens not being the same shade of pink as the balloons. Or how the mother of the groom had threatened to fire Michelle if she didn’t order an extra dozen mints for the gift baskets.
“Got anything good?” She raised an eyebrow, eager to hear the latest gossip.
Michelle sighed, “Well, let’s just say that there is a groom-zilla, and every time he doesn’t like what I offer I have to restrain myself from punching him in the face. And he has a very punchable face.” She shook her head, taking a sip of juice.
Vanessa chuckled, “Good on you, I would’ve just quit.” She finished her last bite of toast.
“Yeah, well, I don’t have that option.” Michelle shrugged and went to put her plate in the dishwasher across from the island.
Finishing the last of her orange juice, Vanessa got up from her chair to put her glass in the dishwasher when an image on the TV caught her eye. She paused and watched the screen fill with Alison’s photo—she gave the camera a pretty smile, blue eyes shining in the sunlight that filtered in behind her, her golden blonde hair falling over her right shoulder. Vanessa had always loved that photo of Ali, it just captured her beauty and youthfulness.
Too bad she’s dead, the thought had Vanessa wincing as the photo shrunk into the corner of the screen and a news anchor took over. It wasn’t the same blonde as before but a woman with shaggy brunette hair and a pointed chin.
“This past June marked the one-year anniversary of Rosewood teen, Alison DiLaurentis’, disappearance. Since then the case for her has closed, with no new evidence or leads arising. Rosewood PD released a statement towards the end of their investigation back in September twenty-ten, saying they had done all they could to find Miss. DiLaurentis but were unsuccessful in their search.” The news anchor gave the camera a somber look.
Vanessa felt her throat close and she had to bite her lip to keep from letting out a whimper. She had thought she’d be over the pain of losing Alison, that seeing her face and name plastered all over the news during those long, awful months had numbed her to the grief she felt. Apparently, she had been wrong. Seeing Alison on the TV right now just made the pain that much deeper.
“The family of Alison DiLaurentis moved out of Rosewood just after the case for their daughter closed.” The anchor continued, a photo of Alison with her parents and older brother, Jason, appeared on screen. “No one has been in contact with the family since last year.” The image faded away, the anchorwoman taking its place on screen.
“We wish nothing but wellness and condolences to the DiLaurentis family and hope that they have moved on from their grief of losing their daughter.” The anchorwoman stared into the camera, her eyes soulful, as if she too were saddened by the loss of a girl she didn’t know. “I’m Misha Chow and we’ll be back with your daily weather report after this commercial break.”
Vanessa turned away from the TV just as the sound of a dog barking filled the kitchen. Her mother placed a hand on her arm, her brown eyes meeting Vanessa’s.
“Honey . . . are you—” She started to say but Vanessa gently shook her hand off, going toward the dishwasher.
“It’s fine, Mom.” She answered as she put her dishes away. “Bound to see it anyway.” Her voice was nonchalant but her stomach felt tight. She turned back to her mother, smoothing down her dress. “I’m gonna go brush my teeth, Amber should be here soon.”
Michelle nodded, “Okay, honey.” She squeezed Vanessa’s hand before letting her walk out of the kitchen.
* * *
“Are you ready for the best year of our lives?” Amber Maddox grinned from the driver’s seat of her 2009 Saturn Aura. Her green eyes widened behind her Miu Miu sunglasses.
Vanessa chuckled as she closed the door and set her bag at her feet, “Since when are you such an optimist?” She buckled her seatbelt as Amber stepped on the gas and started down the street. “Usually, you’re darker about the future.”
Amber frowns, raising her eyebrows. “I am not.”
“Yes, you are. Last year you said that the only way for the school year to go well is if it got hit by a meteor.”
Amber scoffed, “Well that was then, this is now, and now I say that this year is going to be amazing.” She flashed Vanessa a cheerful smile.
Vanessa crossed her arms, “Okay, what’s up? Why are you so happy all of a sudden?”
Amber was known to be pessimistic about things, namely the school year. She wasn’t a big fan of the social scene at Rosewood Day, and oddly, that’s what Vanessa loved most about her. Amber didn’t want to be part of the In-Crowd—the crowd of popular kids who made up a good chunk of the student body. i.e., Hanna Marin, Mona Vanderwaal, Noel Khan, James Freed, Mason Byers, and others like them. And she’d always been that way, ever since freshman year—Vanessa remembered how she’d used to see Amber out in the courtyard during lunch, headphones in her ears and reading a book. Completely removed from Rosewood Day life.
Vanessa also remembered how Ali used to make fun of Amber, saying she was trying way too hard at being an outsider. She thought Amber was just being pretentious and secretly wanted to be one of them. Ali had called her Lonely Girl for the rest of the year.
“I just am,” Amber said, nonchalantly.
“No, you are happy about something. What is it?” Vanessa raised an eyebrow.
Amber kept her eyes forward, hands gripping the wheel tightly, “Okay, fine, God, can’t we have a little privacy in our lives?” She sighed and shook her head.
“No, not as your best friend you can’t,” Vanessa smirked, that was easy. “Tell me what’s got you in a good mood.”
Amber pressed her lips together; her lips shined a pretty coral color. Vanessa waited patiently as Amber stalled. After a few minutes of silence and radio music, Amber sighed and came to a stop at a red light.
“Okay, I’ll tell you.” She took her sunglasses off, bushing them back into her copper hair. “The reason I’m so . . . optimistic is because . . . .” She looked to the side, pulling her lips down. “I’m . . . seeing someone.” Her eyes flickered to Vanessa’s face.
Vanessa’s jaw dropped a few centimeters and she felt her hands come together in shock and excitement. “Oh. My. God!” She squealed, bouncing in her seat.
“Okay, okay, enough. God, I knew this was going to happen. I shouldn’t’ve told you.” Amber looked back at the stop light and stepped back on the gas.
Vanessa squealed again, ignoring Amber’s cringe, “Oh my God, why didn’t you tell me sooner? Who is it? Who?” She grabbed Amber’s arm, squeezing tightly.
“OW!” Amber wrenched her arm away, “Nails, dude!” she shot Vanessa a pointed look. “It’s no one you’d know.”
Vanessa scoffed, “Please, Amber, I know everyone. I’ve gone to the same schools as them since pre-k. Who. Is. It.” She leaned over the console between them, practically in her friend’s face.
Amber glanced at her, “Personal space, please.” She reached over with her other hand and lightly pushed Vanessa back.
Vanessa settled back in her seat, “Okay, there, now tell me who it is.” She demanded.
Amber swallowed, looking nervous, but said: “Matilda Townson.” Her voice was quiet, as if she were telling a secret.
Vanessa beamed and threw her arms around Amber, “That’s awesome!” She cried, “Oh, I’m so happy for you!” She pulled back, arms still around Amber. “When did this happen?”
Amber wiggled against Vanessa’s arms until she released them. “When school ended. Remember Hanna Marin’s end-of-school party?”
“Kind of.” Vanessa shrugged, she remembered getting drunk at the party and sleeping on Amber’s bedroom floor but not much else. It had been in June and the news of Ali’s case closing had just hit.
Amber shook her head, good-naturedly. “Well, while you were doing Jell-O shots, I ran into Matilda and . . . we just started talking.” Her cheeks went a little red and she pressed her lips together as if suppressing a smile.
“About?” Vanessa hedged.
“About stuff that doesn’t concern you,” Amber said, half-joking, half-not. Amber was hesitant to share things that went on in her life, even with Vanessa.
It was something that had taken getting used to when they had first become friends last year. Vanessa, who was ready to spill at the drop of a hat to anyone who would listen, found it shocking when she could barely get Amber to tell her where she lived. Or what her parents were like, or what she liked to do on the weekends. But after a few sessions of prodding and pleading, Amber managed to talk. It was different than when Vanessa could call up, say, Emily Fields, and ask her how her day was. Or when Vanessa had asked Hanna Marin what her favorite lip gloss was and got five different answers.
Amber was worlds away from Vanessa’s old friends and sometimes it was great—she didn’t have that bone-chilling, awkward connection to Ali or the night she disappeared. She didn’t know the secrets she kept close to her chest. But sometimes it was hard too, like when Vanessa was missing Ali on a particular day or when she wanted to talk about how much she missed Aria Montgomery’s pig puppet, Pigtunia.
Vanessa kept the past in the past because she didn’t want to mess up her present, her life After Ali. Plus, Amber wasn’t Ali’s biggest fan—a lot of people weren’t but were too afraid to admit it, but not Amber. Vanessa remembered how Amber used to complain about Ali—and the other girls—to anyone who would listen (which would sometimes be Mona Vanderwaal or some other victim of Ali). Amber would talk about how much of a bitch Ali and her friends were; ‘The Ali Pack’ she’d call them.
“Being a bitch isn’t a personality trait.” Amber had said when she hadn’t realized Vanessa had been sitting right behind her in fifth period Spanish Freshman year.
So, Ali and everything with her was off-topic for Vanessa’s life with Amber.
“Well, can I at least meet her?” Vanessa asks now. They were just crossing into Rosewood Days’ student parking lot. It was already filled with various BMWs, Convertibles, and other rich-kid cars, despite it being 7:40, twenty minutes before they had to be in homeroom.
“You already have.” Amber gave Vanessa an uh, duh look as she parked in a space between a red Corvette and a green Jeep.
Vanessa frowns, “I have?” Had she talked to Matilda at the party?
“Yeah, silly, you two had third-period history together last year. She sat right next to you.” Amber put the car in park and turned the engine off.
Vanessa blinks, trying to recall seeing Matilda in her history class but coming up blank. That class was a blur of boredom, history was her least favorite subject—next to math—so she tended to block it out once school ended. But now she tried to recall if she had seen Matilda, talked to her, asked her for notes, maybe. She remembers having Mason Beyers be her partner for their oral report on Spain—he’d done the talking part while Vanessa had worked the PowerPoint. She remembers staring out the window that looked out at the football field and some of the woods surrounding the back of the building. But no Matilda.
“Um . . . no, I don’t,” Vanessa admitted sheepishly, biting her cheek. “Sorry.”
Amber snorted, “You are so oblivious, sometimes.” She unbuckles her seatbelt and opens her door.
Vanessa follows suit and joins Amber as they walk toward the school. The front lawn and entrance steps are filled with kids talking and catching up. A cluster of freshman girls talk furiously over pieces of paper, comparing class schedules. A pack of cheerleaders giggly practice old routines from last year. The lacrosse boys—Noel Kahn, Mason Beyers, James Freed to name a few—rough house beside a wall of oak trees.
A flash of blonde hair has Vanessa stopping in her tracks, her heart beating in her throat. Ali? Her mind wonders but as the blonde moves closer into her line of sight, she sees that it’s just Mona Vanderwaal.
Mona Vanderwaal is texting furiously on her phone, probably to Hanna Marin, her new best friend as of last year when they came to school looking like runway models. Vanessa had been shocked to see that dorky Mona had transformed into an ice-cold It Girl. She had kind of looked like Ali at first glance but Vanessa had shaken that thought away. In those first lonely weeks of sophomore year, every blonde girl looked like Ali.
But what was even more surprising was seeing Hanna sidle up to Mona and lean in to whisper something in her ear. Hanna had looked like a whole different person; she was no longer Ali’s old sidekick. Gone were the thick nerdy glasses Hanna used to wear; gone were the shiny, pink and green braces; the stringy brown hair. Gone was her pot belly—which Vanesa had always thought was kind of cute, pudgy suited Hanna just as well as being skinny did. She was more beautiful than Mona and Ali put together. She had become the thing she had longed to be, moaned to the other girls about; she was beautiful and popular and perfect. Hefty Hanna—as Ali used to ‘jokingly’ call her—was gone. In her place was someone else entirely. Someone more confident, more cunning, more . . . mean. It seemed Hanna had taken Ali’s place in top bitch of the school and she was wilding her new power happily.
“Vanessa.” Amber’s voice brought her out of her reverie. She was giving her an Earth to Vanessa look.
Vanessa blinked, looked back at Mona, who was gone now, and shook her head. “Sorry, sorry.” She quickly followed Amber toward a free space near the stairs.
Or not so free, when Vanessa notices a girl sitting on the steps, a book in her lap. Vanessa glances at Amber who is looking—no, gazing—at the girl. Vanessa grins and squeezes Amber’s hand. “Is this Matilda?” She whispers excitedly.
Amber looks at Vanessa, her grin fading, “Yeah, but be cool, okay? I don’t want you freaking her out, we’re still on the D.L, you know?” She takes Vanessa’s hand from hers and starts over toward Matilda.
As they get closer Vanessa wonders how she could forget Matilda. She was beautiful in that classy, subtle way. She had impossibly black hair that hung in a glossy sheet down her back; her skin was porcelain and smooth; her eyes a deep black and round. Her petal-shaped lips formed a demure smile when Amber came up to her. She closed her book and stood, smoothing out her light blue pleated skirt.
“Hi,” Matilda said, fingers fluttering at her sides as if daring to reach out and touch Amber’s hand.
“Hi,” Amber said, just as bashful, just as earnest. They stared at each other for a few seconds before Amber cleared her throat and turned to Vanessa. “Matilda this is Vanessa, Vanessa this is Matilda.” She gestured between the two.
Vanessa smiled politely, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you . . . officially, I guess.” She waved at Matilda.
Matilda looked from Amber to Vanessa, her smile wilting and her eyes narrowing just a bit. “Oh.” She said, her voice losing some of the shyness it held before. Now she sounded confused and . . . annoyed?
Vanessa swallowed, “Um, yeah, sorry, we – we had history together last year but—silly me—I can’t remember any of it!” She tries to sound teasing, like it’s no big deal. Because it isn’t, is it? “But, trust me, I’ve been dying to meet you ever since Amber told me about you twenty minutes ago!”
Matilda frowns at her as if Vanessa had said something offensive. “Well, I wouldn’t put it past you to remember everyone who crossed your path of humiliation.”
Vanessa tries not to fidget, “I – I’m . . . sorry?” She looks from Matilda to Amber, pleading.
Amber puts a hand on Matilda’s arm, “Um, Mel, why don’t you go inside, I’ll meet you in a second.”
Matilda looks from Vanessa to Amber, “Fine.” She turns sharply and gathers her things.
As soon as she’s behind the doors and out of earshot, Amber sighs and turns to Vanessa. “I’m sorry, I should’ve warned you.” Her face is apologetic.
Vanessa furrows her brow, “Warned me about what? What was that?” She crosses her arms, trying to not look as defensive as she feels.
Amber runs her fingers over her bag strap. “Again, I’m surprised you don’t remember her, aside from history class that is.”
“What do you mean? Where else would I know her from?” Vanessa shifts from foot to foot, antsy to get the answer as to why Matilda hated her in the first five seconds of meeting her.
“Well, you might not know her but . . . well, Alison . . . did.” Amber says slowly, her eyes going from the ground to Vanessa’s face.
“What are you talking about?” Vanessa asks, but then pauses, remembering Matilda’s words.
“Well, I wouldn’t put it past you to remember everyone who crossed your path of humiliation.”
Vanessa swallows dryly, “Wait, she thinks I did something to her when I was friends with . . . when . . . .” She can’t even say Ali’s name, but Amber seems to understand.
“Yeah. And I know it’s not you she’s really mad at, okay. It’s Alison but . . . well, I guess she just associates you with her even if you weren’t there when it happened.” Amber explains, fiddling with her necklace.
“Where when what happened?”
“When Ali pranked Matilda. It was Freshman year, around November, before Thanksgiving.” Amber recalls for her, leaning against the balustrade at the end of the steps.
Vanessa thought back to that year, she had left school a week before Thanksgiving break to go visit her mom’s parents in Connecticut. She remembered complaining about not being able to celebrate Emily Fields’ fifteenth birthday that Friday and begged her mom to reconsider pushing the trip back to Sunday. But Michelle hadn’t budged and Vanessa had said a wistful goodbye to Ali and the girls on Monday.
“What prank?” Vanessa asks now, frowning. She didn’t remember any prank of Ali’s after she left. Ali would’ve told her, she used to love bragging about her latest victim and how funny it was when she humiliated them. It was like winning a game to her.
Amber opens her mouth, her eyes darting from Vanessa’s face to the ground when the sound of the bell rang out. Before Vanessa can grab Amber and pull her out of the way of the sudden rush of kids clambering for the stairs, they are swept up by the moving crowd. They are separated by bodies and Vanessa spies Amber’s head over the shoulder of a guy with too-long bangs.
“Later!” Amber shouts as Vanessa trips over her feet as she is pushed up the stairs and into the entrance of the school.
Vanessa lets herself be pushed and pulled by various bodies and soon she is spat out by the auditorium doors. She tries to spot Amber in the crowd but can’t find her, maybe she is further up. Sighing, Vanessa leans against the doors of the auditorium, closing her eyes. Oh, Ali, she thinks as a chill rolls down her spine, what did you do now?