Sara Shepard - Stunning

Have you ever done something so shameful, so shocking, so unlike you that you wanted to disappear? Maybe you hid out in your room all summer, too mortified to show your face. Maybe you begged your parents to let you switch schools. Or maybe your parents didnt even know about your secretyou hid from them, too. You were afraid theyd take one look at you and know that youd done something horrible.

A certain pretty girl in Rosewood carried a secret around for nine long months. She ran away from everything and everyoneexcept her three best friends. When it was all over, they swore theyd never tell a soul.

But this is Rosewood. And in Rosewood, the only way to keep your secrets safe is to have none at all . . .

That summer in Rosewood, Pennsylvania, a picturesque, wealthy suburb about twenty minutes from Philadelphia, had been one of the hottest ones on record. To escape the heat, people flocked to the country club pool, gathered around the local Ritas for extra-large strawberry ices, and skinny-dipped in the duck pond at Pecks organic cheese farm, despite the decades-old rumor that a dead body had been found there. But by the third week in August, the weather suddenly turned. A Midsummer Nights Freeze, the local news called it, because the temperature got down to freezing a few nights in a row. Boys broke out their hoodies, and girls donned their brand-new, back-to-school Joes jeans and puffer vests. A few leaves on the trees changed to reds and golds overnight. It was as though the Grim Reaper had come and ripped the season clean away.

On a chilly Thursday night, a beat-up Subaru cruised down a dark street in Wessex, a town not far from Rosewood. The glowing green clock on the dashboard read 1:26 AM, but the four girls inside the car were wide awake. Actually, there were five girls: best friends Emily Fields, Aria Montgomery, Spencer Hastings, Hanna Marin . . . and a tiny, nameless baby Emily had given birth to that day.

They drove past house after house, peering at the numbers on the mailboxes. When they approached number 204, Emily sat up straighter. Stop, she said over the babys cries. Thats it.

Aria, who was wearing a Fair Isle pullover shed bought while on vacation in Iceland last montha vacation she couldnt bear to think aboutsteered the car toward the curb. Are you sure? She eyed the modest white house. It had a basketball hoop in the driveway, a big weeping willow in the side yard, and cheerful flower beds under the front windows.

Ive seen this address on the adoption form a million times. Emily touched the window. Two-oh-four Ship Lane. This is definitely where they live.

The car grew quiet. Even the baby stopped crying. Hanna glanced at the infant next to her in the backseat. Her tiny, perfect pink lips were pursed. Spencer looked at the baby, too, then shifted uncomfortably. It was obvious what everyone was thinking: How could this have happened to sweet, obedient little Emily Fields? Theyd been Emilys best friends since sixth grade, when Alison DiLaurentis, the most popular girl at Rosewood Day, the private school they all attended, recruited them into her new clique. Emily had always been the girl who hated badmouthing people, who never instigated a quarrel, who preferred baggy T-shirts to tight-fitting skirtsand girls over guys. Girls like Emily didnt get pregnant.

Theyd thought Emily was doing a program at Temple that summer, much like the one Spencer was attending at Penn. But then, one by one, Emily had told each of them the truth: She was hiding in her sisters dorm room in Philly because she was pregnant. Aria, Spencer, and Hanna had all reacted the same way when Emily broke the news: with jaw-dropping, speechless shock. How long have you known? they had asked. I took a pregnancy test when I got back from Jamaica, Emily had answered. The father was Isaac, a boy shed dated last winter.

Are you sure you want to do this? Spencer asked quietly. A reflection in the window caught her eye, and she cringed. But when she turned to stare at the house opposite them, a similarly modest brick ranch, no one was there.

What other option do I have? Emily twisted the pink rubber Jefferson Hospital bracelet around her wrist. The staff didnt even know she was gonethe doctors had wanted her to stay an extra day so they could monitor the incision from her C-section. But if shed stayed in the hospital a minute longer, her plan wouldnt work. She couldnt possibly give the baby to Gayle, the wealthy woman whod paid a huge sum of money for her, so shed told Gayle shed pushed back the date for her scheduled C-section to two days later. Then shed solicited her friends help to sneak out of the hospital shortly after the baby was born. Everyone had played a part in the escape. Hanna returned Gayles money. Spencer distracted the nurses while Emily hobbled toward the exit. Aria provided her Subaru and even found an infant car seat at a garage sale. And theyd succeeded: Theyd escaped without Gayle finding out and taking away the baby.

Suddenly, as if on cue, Emilys phone bleated, breaking the tense silence inside the car. She pulled it out of the plastic shopping bag the hospital had stashed her clothes in and looked at the screen. Gayle.

Emily winced and hit IGNORE. The phone quieted for a moment, then bleated once more. Gayle again.

Hanna eyed the phone warily. Should you answer that?

And say what? Emily hit IGNORE one more time. Sorry, Gayle, I dont want to give you my baby because I think youre psycho?

But isnt this illegal? Hanna looked up and down the street. There wasnt a car in sight, but she still felt on edge. What if she turns you in?

For what? Emily asked. What Gayle did was illegal, too. She cant say anything without incriminating herself.

Hanna bit a thumbnail. But if the cops do find out about this, what happens if they investigate other things? Like . . . Jamaica?

A palpable tension rippled through the car. Although it was always on their minds, the girls had promised each other never to talk about Jamaica again. It was supposed to have been a getaway to forget about Real Ali, the diabolical girl whod killed her twin sister, Courtney, the Ali they all knew and loved. Last year, Real Ali had returned to Rosewood and tried to pass herself off as the girls old friend, but it was later revealed that she was the new A, the girls text-messaging tormenter. Shed killed Ian Thomas, Rosewood Day heartthrob and suspect in the first murder, and Jenna Cavanaugh, who the girls and Their Ali had blinded in sixth grade. Real Alis master plan was to murder the four girls. Shed brought them to her familys house in the Poconos, locked them in a bedroom, and lit a match. But things hadnt turned out as shed hoped. The girls escaped, leaving Real Ali trapped in the house when it exploded. Even though her remains had never been found, everyone was positive she was dead.

But was she?

The trip to Jamaica had been a chance for the girls to move on with their lives and deepen their friendships. Once they got there, though, they met a girl named Tabitha who reminded them of Real Ali. She knew things only Ali would know. Her mannerisms were chillingly like Alis. Slowly, they became convinced that she was Real Ali. Maybe shed survived the fire. Maybe shed come to Jamaica to finish off the girls as planned.

There was only one thing to do: stop her before she got revenge. Just as Real Ali was about to push Hanna off the rooftop deck, Aria had intervened, and Ali fell instead. Her broken body had vanished before the girls got down to the beach to see what theyd done, probably swept away by the tide. The girls vacillated between relief that Ali was gone for good . . . and horror that theyd killed someone.