The Good Girls

Spencer broke the silence. “Being hypnotized, um, does sound sort of sketch.”

 

 

“You don’t know anything about it,” Alison said quickly. “C’mon. I could do it to you all at once.”

 

Spencer picked at the waistband of her skirt. Emily blew air through her teeth. Aria and Hanna exchanged a look. Ali was always coming up with stuff for them to try—last summer, it was smoking dandelion seeds to see if they’d hallucinate, and this past fall they’d gone swimming in Pecks Pond, even though a dead body was once discovered there—but the thing was, they often didn’t want to do the things that Alison made them do. They all loved Ali to death, but they sometimes hated her too—for bossing them around and for the spell she’d cast on them. Sometimes in Ali’s presence, they didn’t feel real, exactly. They felt kind of like dolls, with Ali arranging their every move. Each of them wished that, just once, she had the strength to tell Ali no.

 

“Puh-leeeeeze?” Ali asked. “Emily, you want to do it, right?”

 

“Um . . . ” Emily’s voice quivered. “Well . . . ”

 

“I’ll do it,” Hanna butted in.

 

“Me too,” Emily said quickly after.

 

Spencer and Aria reluctantly nodded. Satisfied, Alison shut off all the lights with a snap and lit several sweetly scented vanilla votive candles that were on the coffee table. Then she stood back and hummed.

 

“Okay, everyone, just relax,” she chanted, and the girls arranged themselves in a circle on the rug. “Your heartbeat’s slowing down. Think calm thoughts. I’m going to count down from one hundred, and as soon as I touch all of you, you’ll be in my power.”

 

“Spooky.” Emily laughed shakily.

 

Alison began. “One hundred . . . ninety-nine . . . ninety-eight . . .”

 

Twenty-two . . .

 

Eleven . . .

 

Five . . .

 

Four . . .

 

Three . . .

 

She touched Aria’s forehead with the fleshiest part of her thumb. Spencer uncrossed her legs. Aria twitched her left foot.

 

“Two . . .” She slowly touched Hanna, then Emily, and then moved toward Spencer. “One.”

 

Spencer’s eyes sprang open before Alison could reach her. She jumped up and ran to the window.

 

“What’re you doing?” Ali whispered. “You’re ruining the moment.”

 

“It’s too dark in here.” Spencer reached up and opened the curtains.

 

“No.” Alison lowered her shoulders. “It’s got to be dark. That’s how it works.”

 

“C’mon, no it doesn’t.” The blind stuck; Spencer grunted to wrench it free.

 

“No. It does.”

 

Spencer put her hands on her hips. “I want it lighter. Maybe everyone does.”

 

Alison looked at the others. They all still had their eyes closed.

 

Spencer wouldn’t give in. “It doesn’t always have to be the way you want it, you know, Ali?”

 

Alison barked out a laugh. “Close them!”

 

Spencer rolled her eyes. “God, take a pill.”

 

“You think I should take a pill?” Alison demanded.

 

Spencer and Alison stared at each other for a few moments. It was one of those ridiculous fights that could have been about who saw the new Lacoste polo dress at Neiman Marcus first or whether honey-colored highlights looked too brassy, but it was really about something else entirely. Something way bigger.

 

Finally, Spencer pointed at the door. “Leave.”

 

“Fine.” Alison strode outside.

 

“Good!” But after a few seconds passed, Spencer followed her. The bluish evening air was still, and there weren’t any lights on in her family’s main house. It was quiet, too—even the crickets were quiet—and Spencer could hear herself breathing. “Wait a second!” she cried after a moment, slamming the door behind her. “Alison!”

 

But Alison was gone.

Sara Shepard's books