Vicious by Sara Shepard Page A

walls.
    Then she looked at her friends. Hanna turned over. Spencer kicked in her sleep. Emily felt a guilty twinge. She knew this would devastate them, but it was the only option. She set her jaw, pulled out a piece of motel stationery, and scribbled down the words she’d been mentally composing. Then, she slipped out the door, not bothering to take a key. With any luck, she would be gone before her friends woke up.
    The hallway smelled like beer. She felt along the walls until she reached the outdoor stairs, then carefully navigated down. A gust of wind slammed her from the side, pressing her against the railing. She stood there a moment, bracing herself, thinking again of her friends and the anguish they’d soon feel, before she continued walking to the sidewalk. From there, she fought her way to the beach path, the wind pushing her back with every step. The sun was just rising, the sky a streaky mix of dark blues and pinks. A foreboding red flag indicating that swimming was strictly forbidden had been staked atop the lifeguard stand. The wind was making quick work of tearing it to shreds.
    Emily struggled down the beach steps and planted her feet in the cold sand. The waves whipped to and fro with no discernible pattern. They crashed angrily, caustically, with such power that they were sure to rip apart anything that got in their way. All at once, she thought she heard something over the surf and the wind. A laugh? Someone breathing? She whipped around, eyeing the dark beach stairway, glaring and glaring until her eyes began to play tricks on her. Was that a girl crouched in the dunes, watching? Could Ali be here ?
    Emily stood up straighter, staring hard, but as much as she wanted to see something, there was nothing there. She shut her eyes and pictured what Ali would do if she saw her right now. Would she laugh? This wasn’t part of her plan, after all. Maybe she’d respect Emily for what she was about to do. Maybe she’d even fear her.
    Like the other girls, Emily had an Ali Cape May memory, too—but she and Ali hadn’t come here together. Her memory was from fifth grade, before Emily and Ali were friends—so the memory was of the Real Ali, not of Courtney. Ali had sat a few towels away from Emily’s family, looking mysterious in her large-framed sunglasses, whispering and snickering with Naomi Zeigler and Riley Wolfe. Emily had stared at her hard, feeling a spangled sensation inside her. She didn’t just want to be Alison DiLaurentis, the girl everyone adored. She wanted to be with her. Touch her. Braid her hair. Smell her clothes when she stepped out of them at bedtime. Drink her up.
    Ali had looked up at Emily and smirked. Then she’d nudged Naomi and Riley, and all three of them had laughed. Certain Ali had sensed her desires, Emily had jumped up and run for the water, then dived under the waves. She’d swum hard and fast, into the roaring breakers, ignoring the lifeguard’s whistles that she’d gone too far. That sort of girl would never be friends with you , a voice in her head pounded. And she’d certainly never be into you.
    A wave had caught her and pushed her under. When she’d surfaced, she was sputtering and winded. Everyone was staring at her, probably knowing her impure, ridiculous thoughts. As she’d walked back to her towel, Ali was watching her again, although this time she looked a little bit awed. “The water doesn’t scare you, does it?” she pointed out.
    The question had taken Emily by surprise. “No,” she said calmly. It was the truth. It wasn’t the waves she was afraid of.
    Nor was she afraid of them now.
    Emily turned to face the waves again, holding that memory of Ali—the Real Ali, the crazy Ali—tight inside her. Little did she know then that someday, that beautiful, horrible girl would be the center of her life. Little did she know that Ali would take everything from her.
    â€œI’m not