Killer. (Book Six)

Twenty-Two: Nothing Like An Ultimatum To Kick Off The Weekend.

There it was. The big Victorian house at the corner of the cul-de-sac, the one with the rose relishes along the fence and the wraparound teak deck in the back. Yellow Do Not Cross police tape was supposed to be around the half-dug hole in the backyard...only there was no tape anywhere. As a matter of fact, there wasn't a hole anywhere. The yard was a wide, flat expanse of freshly mown grass, untouched by backhoes or bulldozers.

Hanna looked down. She was on her old mountain bike, the one she hadn't touched since she got a driver's license. And her hands looked swollen. Her jeans strained across her butt. Her thighs bulged. A strand of poop-brown hair fell over her eyes. She ran her tongue over her teeth and felt rough, metal braces. When she gazed into Ali's backyard, she saw Spencer crouched behind the raspberry bushes that bordered Ali's house and hers. Spencer's hair was shorter and a little lighter, the way it looked in sixth grade. There was skinny, baby-faced Emily behind the tomato vines, her eyes darting nervously back and forth. Aria, with big pink streaks in her hair and wearing a freaky German tunic, ducked next to a big oak.

Hanna shuddered. She knew why they were here—they wanted to steal Ali's flag. This was the Saturday after Time Capsule had begun.

The four girls marched to one another, annoyed. Then they heard a thud, and the back door opened. Hanna and the others crouched behind the trees while Jason stormed across the yard. The patio door slammed again. Ali stood on the porch, her hands on her hips, her blond hair spilling down her shoulders, her lips pink and shiny. "You can come out," she called.

Sighing, Ali marched across the yard, her wedge heels sinking into the wet grass. When she approached Hanna and the others, she reached into her pocket and pulled out a shiny piece of blue cloth. It looked exactly like the piece of the Time Capsule flag Hanna had found at Steam a few days ago.

But hadn't Ali lost her flag? Hanna looked at the others, confused, but her old friends didn't seem to notice that anything was amiss.

"So this is how I've decorated it," Ali explained, pointing at the different drawings on the flag. "Here's the Chanel logo. And this is the manga frog, and here's the field hockey girl. And don't you love this Louis Vuitton pattern?"

"The flag looks like a purse," Spencer oohed.

Hanna regarded them uneasily. Something felt scrambled. This wasn't happening like it was supposed to. And then, Ali snapped her fingers, and Hanna's old friends froze. Aria's hand hung motionless, almost touching Ali's flag. A few strands of Emily's hair were suspended in air, caught by a breeze. Spencer had an odd expression on her face, something between a fake smile and a grimace.

Hanna wiggled her fingers. She was the only one not frozen. She stared at Ali, her heart pounding hard.

Ali smiled sweetly. "You're looking much better, Hanna. Completely recovered, huh?"

Hanna gazed down at her too-tight jeans and ran her hands through her limp hair. Recovered wasn't the word she'd have chosen. Her recovery from loser to diva wouldn't happen for another few years.

Ali shook her head, noting Hanna's confusion. "From the accident, silly. Don't you remember me from the hospital?"

"H-hospital?"

Ali brought her face close to Hanna's. "They say people should always talk to coma patients. They can hear. Did you hear me?"

Hanna felt dizzy. Suddenly, she was back in her hospital room at Rosewood Memorial, where the EMTs had taken her after her car accident. There was a round, bright fluorescent light above her head. She could hear the hiss of the carious machines that monitored her vital signs and fed her intravenously. In the hazy space between coma and consciousness, Hanna thought she saw someone looming over her head. Someone who looked startlingly like Ali. "It's okay," the girl lilted, her voice exactly the same as Ali's. "I'm okay."