Pretty Little Liars #14 by Sara Shepard Page A

know, I have the power to recommend a candidate. I’ve interviewed students from New York City, Boston, and Baltimore, but your portfolio is quite strong. And you know a little Dutch, so that’s helpful.”
    â€œI learned when I was in Iceland,” Aria boasted. “I lived there for a few years.”
    Ms. Janssen pushed a lock of hair behind her ears. “Well, the apprenticeship would be for two years. You’ll be helping several artists, learning a great deal from each of them. Everyone who has done this apprenticeship has gone on to have a career in the art world in their own right.”
    â€œI know. It’s a remarkable opportunity.” Aria thought of the literature she’d reread this afternoon. The apprentices got to travel all through Europe with their artists.
    The professor asked Aria some more questions about her influences, her strengths and weaknesses, and her knowledge of art history. With every question Aria answered, Ms. Janssen seemed more and more pleased, the smile lines at the corners of her eyes deepening. Not once did she bring up how Aria was a Pretty Little Liar. She seemed to know nothing of the stupid movie based on Aria’s life, or how Aria had been on a cruise ship that caught fire, or that she’d witnessed Gayle Riggs’s murder or found her boyfriend tied up in a storage shed only a few days before. In that little office, Aria was only a budding artist, nothing else. The Aria she used to be, before everything went wrong.
    â€œI’ll be honest with you,” Ms. Janssen said after a while. “You seem quite promising. I’d like to recommend you.”
    â€œReally?” Aria squeaked, pressing her hand to her chest. “That’s great!”
    â€œI’m glad you think so. Now, let me start your formal application, which is right . . .” She trailed off as she looked out the window. “ Oh .”
    Aria followed her gaze. Out the big picture window, she could see three police cars at the curb, their lights flashing. Two uniformed officers got out and marched into the building. Soon enough, footsteps echoed down the hall. Walkie-talkies squealed. As the voices grew closer and closer, Aria swore one of them said, Montgomery .
    A slithery sensation crept down her back.
    The door flung open, and two men walked into the office, eyes narrowed, muscles tensed. Ms. Janssen shrank back against the wall. “Can I help you?”
    The man in front pointed at Aria. His jacket said FBI on the breast pocket. He had squinty eyes and a wad of fruity-smelling gum shoved into his mouth. “That’s her.”
    The professor stared at Aria as though she’d morphed into a giant toad. “What’s this about?”
    â€œShe’s wanted for questioning in an international incident,” the agent said stiffly.
    Aria’s throat went dry. “W-what do you mean?” As if in answer, something made a ping inside her bag. Aria reached for her phone, her heart sinking. One new message , it said, followed by a jumble of letters and numbers.
    Your dirty laundry, Aria? Time to get it dry-cleaned. —A

6
    SPENCER GOES DOWNTOWN
    At the same time on Tuesday, Spencer had just finished jogging five easy miles on the Marwyn Trail, an old train line turned nature walk. As she walked back to her car, pulling her hair up into a high ponytail, the wind stopped. The trail was clear of runners and bikers, but she swore she could see a human shape in the bushes. Ali?
    A woman and three dogs appeared around the corner. A Rollerblader skated past, and a squirrel emerged from the bushes. Spencer pinched the inside of her palm. Ali isn’t everywhere . Only, did she really believe that anymore?
    She climbed into the car, drained a bottle of coconut water, and switched on the radio. The first thing she heard was Noel Kahn’s name. She twisted the volume knob higher.
    â€œ. . . Though Mr. Kahn survived his attack, he