Aria had hoped she and her old friends might reunite, especially since they’d all received notes from A. Yet, they weren’t even speaking—things were right back to where they’d been during those awkward, worried weeks after Ali’s disappearance. Aria hadn’t even told them about what A had done to her family. The only ex–best friend Aria was still sort of friendly with was Emily Fields—but their conversations had mostly consisted of Emily blubbering about how guilty she felt about Toby’s death, until Aria had finally insisted that it wasn’t her fault.

“Well, anyway,” Ezra said, putting copies of The Scarlet Letter at the front of each row to pass back, “I want everyone to read chapters one through five this week, and you have a three-page essay on any themes you see at the beginning of the book due on Friday. Okay?”

Everyone groaned and started to talk. Aria slid her book into her yak-fur bag. Hanna reached down to pick her purse off the floor. Aria touched Hanna’s thin, pale arm. “Look, I’m sorry. I really am.”

Hanna yanked her arm away, pressed her lips together, and wordlessly stuffed The Scarlet Letter into her purse. It kept jamming, and she let out a frustrated grunt.

Classical music tinkled through the loudspeaker, indicating the period was over. Hanna shot up from her seat as if it were on fire. Aria rose slowly, shoving her pen and notebook into her purse and heading for the door.

“Aria.”

She turned. Ezra was leaning against his oak desk, his tattered caramel leather briefcase pressed to his hip.

“Everything okay?” he asked.

“Sorry about all that,” she said. “Hanna and I have some issues. It won’t happen again.”

“No problem.” Ezra set his mug of chai down. “Is everything else okay?”

Aria bit her lip and considered telling him what was going on. But why? For all she knew, Ezra was as sleazy as her father. If he really did have a girlfriend in New York, then he’d cheated on her when he’d hooked up with Aria.

“Everything’s fine,” she managed.

“Good. You’re doing a great job in class.” He smiled, showing his two adorably overlapping bottom teeth.

“Yeah, I’m enjoying myself,” she said, taking a step toward the door. But as she did, she stumbled over her super-high stack-heeled boots, careening into Ezra’s desk. Ezra grabbed her waist and pulled her upright…and into him. His body felt warm and safe, and he smelled good, like chili powder, cigarettes, and old books.

Aria moved away quickly. “Are you okay?” Ezra asked.

“Yeah.” She busied herself by straightening her school blazer. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Ezra answered, jamming his hands in his jacket pockets. “So…see you.”

“Yeah. See you.”

Aria walked out of the classroom, her breathing fast and shallow. Maybe she was nuts, but she was pretty sure Ezra had held her for a second longer than he needed to. And she was certain she’d liked it.

3

THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS BAD PRESS

During their free period Monday afternoon, Hanna Marin and her best friend, Mona Vanderwaal, were sitting in the corner booth of Steam, Rosewood Day’s coffee bar, doing what they did best: ripping on people who weren’t as fabulous as they were.

Mona poked Hanna with one end of her chocolate-dipped biscotti. To Mona, food was more like a prop, less like something to eat. “Jennifer Feldman’s got some logs, doesn’t she?”

“Poor girl.” Hanna mock-pouted. Logs was Mona’s shorthand term for tree-trunk legs: solid and unshapely thighs and calves with no tapering from knees to ankles.

“And her feet look like overstuffed sausage casings in those heels!” Mona cawed.

Hanna snickered, watching as Jennifer, who was on the diving team, hung up a poster on the far wall that read, SWIM MEET TOMORROW! ROSEWOOD DAY HAMMERHEADS VS. DRURY ACADEMY EELS! Her ankles were hideously thick. “That’s what girls with fat ankles get when they try to wear Louboutins,” Hanna sighed. She and Mona were the thin-ankled sylphs Christian Louboutin shoes were meant for, obviously.

Mona took a big sip of her Americano and pulled out her Gucci wallet diary from her eggplant-colored Botkier purse. Hanna nodded approvingly. They had other things to do besides criticize people today, like plan not one but two parties: one for the two of them, and the second for the rest of Rosewood Day’s elite.

“First things first.” Mona uncapped her pen. “The Frenniversary. What should we do tonight? Shopping? Massages? Dinner?”

“All of that,” Hanna answered. “And we definitely have to hit Otter.” Otter was a new high-end boutique at the mall.

“I’m loving Otter,” Mona agreed.

“Where should we have dinner?” Hanna asked.

“Rive Gauche, of course,” Mona said loudly, talking over the groaning coffee grinder.

“You’re right. They’ll definitely give us wine.”

“Should we invite boys?” Mona’s blue eyes gleamed.

“Eric Kahn keeps calling me. Maybe Noel could come for you?”

Hanna frowned. Despite being cute, incredibly rich and part of the über-sexy clan of Kahn brothers, Noel wasn’t really her type. “No boys,” she decided. “Although that’s very cool about Eric.”

“This is going to be a fabulous Frenniversary.” Mona grinned so broadly that her dimples showed. “Can you believe this is our third?”

Hanna smiled. Their Frenniversary marked the day Hanna and Mona had talked on the phone for three and a half hours—the obvious indicator that they were best friends. Although they’d known each other since kindergarten, they’d never really spoken before cheerleading tryouts a few weeks before the first day of eighth grade. By then, Ali had been missing for two months and Hanna’s old friends had become really distant, so she’d decided to give Mona a chance. It was worth it—Mona was funny, sarcastic, and, despite her thing for animal backpacks and Razor scooters, she secretly devoured Vogue and Teen Vogue as ravenously as Hanna did. Within weeks, they’d decided to be best friends and transform themselves into the most popular girls at school. And look: Now they had.

“Now for the bigger plans,” Mona said, flipping another page of her notebook. “Sweet seventeen,” she sang to the MTV My Super Sweet Sixteen melody.

“It’s going to rock,” Hanna gushed. Mona’s birthday was this Saturday, and she had almost all the party details in place. She was going to have it at the Hollis Planetarium, where there were telescopes in every room—even the bathrooms. She’d booked a DJ, caterers, and a trapeze school—so guests could swing over the dance floor—as well as a videographer, who would film the party and simultaneously webcast it onto a Jumbotron screen. Mona had carefully instructed guests to wear formal dress only on the invites. If someone turned up in jeans or Juicy sweats, security would not-so-politely turn them away.

“So I was thinking,” Mona said, stuffing a napkin into her empty paper coffee cup. “It’s a little last-minute, but I’m going to have a court.”

“A court?” Hanna raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow.

“It’s an excuse to get that fabulous Zac Posen dress you keep frothing over at Saks—the fitting is tomorrow. And we’ll wear tiaras and make the boys bow down to us.”

Hanna stifled a giggle. “We’re not going to do an opening dance number, are we?” She and Mona had been on Julia Rubenstein’s party court last year, and Julia had made them do a dance routine with a bunch of D-list male models. Hanna’s dance partner smelled like garlic and had immediately asked her if she wanted to join him in the coatroom. She’d spent the rest of the party running away from him.

Mona scoffed, breaking her biscotti into smaller pieces. “Would I do something as lame as that?”

“Of course not.” Hanna rested her chin in her hands.

“So I’m the only girl in the court, right?”

Mona rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

Hanna shrugged. “I mean, I don’t know who else you could pick.”

“We just need to get you a date.” Mona placed the tiniest piece of biscotti in her mouth.

“I don’t want to take anyone from Rosewood Day,” Hanna said quickly. “Maybe I’ll ask someone from Hollis. And I’ll bring more than one date.” Her eyes lit up. “I could have a whole load of guys carry me around all night, like Cleopatra.”

Mona gave her a high five. “Now you’re talking.”

Hanna chewed on the end of her straw. “I wonder if Sean will come.”

“Don’t know.” Mona raised an eyebrow. “You’re over him, right?”

“Of course.” Hanna pushed her auburn hair over her shoulder. Bitterness still flickered inside her whenever she thought about how Sean had dumped her for way-too-tall, I’m-a-kiss-ass-English-student-and-think-I’m-hot-shit-because-I-lived-in-Europe Aria Montgomery, but whatever. It was Sean’s loss. Now that boys knew she was available, Hanna’s BlackBerry inbox was beeping with potential dates every few minutes.

“Good,” Mona said. “Because you’re way too hot for him, Han.”

“I know,” Hanna quipped, and they touched palms lightly in another high five. Hanna sat back, feeling a warm, reassuring whoosh of well-being. It was hard to believe that things had been shaky between her and Mona a month ago. Imagine, Mona thinking that Hanna wanted to be friends with Aria, Emily, and Spencer instead of her!

Okay, so Hanna had been keeping things from Mona, although she’d confessed most of it: her occasional purges, the trouble with her dad, her two arrests, the fact that she’d stripped for Sean at Noel Kahn’s party and he’d rejected her. She’d downplayed everything, worried Mona would disown her for such horrible secrets, but Mona had taken it all in stride. She said every diva got in trouble once in a while, and Hanna decided she’d just overreacted. So what if she wasn’t with Sean anymore? So what if she hadn’t spoken to her father since Foxy? So what if she was still volunteering at Mr. Ackard’s burn clinic to atone for wrecking his car? So what if her two worst enemies, Naomi Zeigler and Riley Wolfe, knew she had a bingeing problem and had spread rumors about her around the school? She and Mona were still tight, and A had stopped stalking her.

Kids began filtering out of the coffee bar, which meant that free period was about to end. As Hanna and Mona swaggered through the exit, Hanna realized they were approaching Naomi and Riley, who had been hiding behind the giant swirling Frappuccino machine. Hanna set her jaw and tried to hold her head high.

“Baaaarf,” Naomi hissed into Hanna’s ear as she passed.

“Yaaaaak,” Riley taunted right behind her.

“Don’t listen to them, Han,” Mona said loudly. “They’re just pissed because you can fit into those Rich and Skinny jeans at Otter and they can’t.”

“It’s cool,” Hanna said breezily, sticking her nose into the air. “There’s that, and at least I don’t have inverted nipples.”