It's finally here! I've been talking about "Anonymous" for so long now, and here we are. Please review to let me know what you think of the first chapter! I have the first five or so chapters of this written, and as of now I'm planning on updating about every week.

If anyone is interested, the trailer that I made for this story can be found on my Youtube channel. The link is in my profile!

Chapter 1

Aria pulled the maroon, spaghetti strap dress on over her head and stepped in front of her full length mirror, holding her arms out at her sides to get a look at her reflection.

But she really wasn't looking at herself at all. Her eyes drifted away from the dress that hugged her figure, away from the dark hair that tumbled down her shoulders, and her wide, brown eyes, to the room behind her.

It was the same room she had left behind a year ago, the same wood walls and bed shoved into the corner. But with all of her stuff still packed away in boxes instead of hanging on the walls or placed carefully on the dresser, she couldn't really call it her bedroom.

"Glad to be home?" a voice spoke from the doorway, and a moment later Aria's mom appeared in the mirror behind her, her hands moving to rest on Aria's shoulders.

Aria shrugged, turning away from her reflection. "I guess so," she said with a bit of reluctance. "The past year just seems like a huge blur. I feel like I barely remember any of it."

Ella blinked. "Iceland was a great experience," she said, adding quickly, "But I'm sure you'll be glad to see your friends again."

Aria nodded, but she was unsure. Her family had moved to Iceland what seemed like days after Alison's disappearance that night at the sleepover in Spencer's barn. For all she knew, her old best friends weren't even talking anymore. After all, Alison had really been the glue that held them all together.

Before Aria could figure out how to communicate all of that to her mom, Mike appeared in the doorway, already slinging his old lacrosse bag over his shoulder. "Tryouts are today!" he called out eagerly. "I need a ride to the school!"

"I'll take him," Aria volunteered, picking up her keys.

Ella raised her eyebrows. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's no problem." Driving Mike to the school would give her the opportunity to take a look around Rosewood. And anyway, she had been home for fifteen minutes and she already felt suffocated. Her parents had been giving her concerned glances ever since they'd passed the "Welcome to Rosewood" sign, almost like they expected her to burst into tears or flames or something at the slightest memory of what had happened just before they'd left.

Aria followed Mike out the door and into the car, and five minutes later he was leaping out in front of Rosewood High School. "What time am I picking you up?" she called out the window before he could bolt away.

Shrugging, Mike glanced back at the group of boys heading for the field, all of them carrying gym bags and lacrosse sticks. "I don't know, six?" Before Aria could get a more definite answer, he was running to join the others.

Aria sighed and leaned her head back against the seat, starting the car. It was just after four. Two hours would give her plenty of time to explore Rosewood, that was for sure.

She drove aimlessly, not even sure where she was going until she ended up right in front of the DiLaurentis house. Startled, Aria released the wheel, remembering to push down on the brake just in time. She had promised herself on the flight back from Iceland that she wouldn't think about what happened to Alison. She'd wanted to start fresh.

And now here she was, right back where she started. She closed her eyes and let out a breath of frustration.

…

When Aria opened her eyes again after a few moments, feeling a bit more composed, she gasped out loud.

The DiLaurentis house was nowhere in sight, and instead of sitting in her car, leaning back against the leather seat, she was standing on the hard concrete. She swiveled her head to the left and right, stunned. She was still on one of Rosewood's polished streets, about two blocks away from where she'd last been. Her car was parked along the curb a few feet away.

Had she driven herself here? How could she not remember? Aria moved to press her hand to her suddenly throbbing forehead when she realized that she was not empty-handed. A piece of paper was crumbled in her fist.

Suddenly, inexplicably nervous, she unfolded the paper, holding it tightly between her hands.

A picture of Alison practically glowed up at her, alongside the words, "Missing. Alison DiLaurentis. Would now be 16."

Aria couldn't tear her eyes away. She'd seen the poster – it was all over pretty much every telephone pole and shop window in town, she'd seen a ton of them as her family drove through town on the way to their house just a few hours ago.

Her head was pounding and she groaned, looking around. She just couldn't figure out how she'd gotten here, with this poster. The last thing she remembered was dropping Mike off at the school and driving around, somehow ending up right in front of the DiLaurentis' house. Alison's house.

She wasn't drunk or something, was she? Maybe she'd gone to that bar, the one on the outskirts of town that didn't really care much about IDs, and had drowned out her fears of being back in Rosewood until she couldn't remember anything.

Aria scrunched up her eyes, concentrating. She had the vaguest memory of driving, but nothing more…almost like the whole year she'd spent in Iceland. Just one big blur.

"Hey," a deep voice called, and Aria spun around, still feeling a little out of control of her own body.

A young guy, probably in his early twenties or so, was jogging up to her. His hair was dark and curly, and she couldn't pull her gaze away from his blue eyes. "Are you alright?" he asked, stopping in front of her and looking down at her in concern.

Aria instinctively crumbled the missing poster back into her fist. She wondered briefly what she looked like – judging by how panicked she felt, probably not very good. Suddenly self-conscious, she clasped her hands behind her back. "Yeah, I'm, um, I'm fine."

"I was stopped at the light when I saw you stumbling around," the guy said worriedly, nodding at the traffic light at the corner of the block. "I thought I should check on you, make sure you're okay."

"Yeah," Aria said again, shaking her head to try and clear her mind. "I just…" She faltered, not wanting to freak him out further by telling him the truth. She didn't want him to think she was crazy or anything. "I just got back from Iceland," she finished weakly, glad that at least she didn't have to lie. "Jet lag, you know."

"Iceland?" the guy repeated, and Aria was relieved to see his expression change, the concern melting away into curiosity. "Really. I spent a summer in Reykjavik."

"That's where I lived," Aria replied, smiling. Her heart was finally beginning to calm down, and she had a feeling that talking to this guy was helping. He was looking at her with a kind of interest that she was not used to. She'd spent so long in Alison's shadow, as the weird, artsy girl with a pink stripe in her hair, that it was strange to suddenly have this kind of attention from a guy. An older guy, too.

"It's such an inspiring place," the guy said, stepping closer and leaning against a telephone pole – presumably the same one that the poster had come from. "I got so much more writing done while I was there."

"You write?" Aria burst out before she could stop herself. She stared up at him, wondering briefly how old he was. She couldn't imagine any of the guys her own age being interested in writing or poetry the way that she was.

"A little," the guy said with an embarrassed shrug. "I've never really been able to get into it. But maybe that'll change once I start my first teaching job." He paused and laughed a little, extending his hand. "I'm Ezra, by the way."

Aria grasped his hand, noticing his strong grip. "Aria," she replied, pulling her hand away with reluctance. "Yeah, um, I do some writing, myself."

Ezra smiled, and Aria couldn't help but smile in return. It was now clear that he had to be at least several years older than her – old enough to be teaching, anyway – but somehow that only made him more attractive. Aria had never really liked the typical immature boys her own age, anyway.

"I bet you're a great writer," Ezra was saying, sounding genuinely interested. "I'd love to read some of your stuff sometime."

Aria took a step closer, suddenly glad that they were alone on the sidewalk. "Yeah…that'd be great."

He leaned down, and suddenly they were kissing, practically pressed up against the telephone pole. Aria wrapped her arms around his neck, the piece of paper balled up in her fist forgotten.

She'd had a boyfriend in Iceland, just for a few months, but he was only a faint memory now. And that was nothing compared to this. This actually felt real. Ezra's arm encircled her waist, and Aria was sure that she'd never felt this alive.

But he pulled away all too soon, leaving her leaning back against the telephone pole. "I really have to go," he said breathlessly, glancing at his watch. "But do you, uh, want me to drive you anywhere?"

"No," Aria gasped, smoothing back her hair. "My car's right there."

Ezra gave a lopsided smile, his face reddening. "Well…hey, I'm teaching in the area. So maybe I'll see you around?"

"Sure," she said with what she hoped was a sophisticated nod. She resisted the urge to ask him for his number – that suddenly seemed so juvenile. "See you around."

He smiled once more at her, then turned and headed back for his car, honking the horn as he pulled away from the sidewalk.

Aria smiled to herself, watching his car turn the corner. Maybe moving back to Rosewood wouldn't be so bad, after all.

Now with no distractions, she suddenly became aware of the pressure in her hand, and undid her fist. The missing poster was crinkled up in a ball. Rolling her eyes, Aria smoothed it out for the second time. For the first time in this town, she didn't feel like she was living in Alison's shadow. She missed her old best friend like crazy, but maybe her disappearance didn't have to be all bad.

Aria glanced around for a garbage can to throw away the crumpled flyer, turning it over in her hand as she did so. She frowned down at it, wrinkling her nose in curiosity. The back of the poster was blank, except for one thing.

A large, red letter "A" occupied the bottom right corner.

…

The first thing I lay eyes on is one of those stupid posters.

Of course. Even now that she's gone, Alison is never really gone. Everyone still has to deal with seeing her face plastered all over town, begging for her return. And she would have loved it. There was nothing Alison loved more than being the center of attention.

I'm suddenly shaking so badly that I can barely control myself. I rip the poster off of the pole, crushing it in my hand, but that doesn't do anything to alleviate my anger.

So I reach into the smallest pocket of my bag, my hands closing on the red marker that I knew would be there. I've started carrying it around, waiting for an opportunity like this.

I uncap the marker and turn the poster over. Writing on the front is too obvious. And the whole point to my game is secrecy, illusion.

My hand still shaking in anger, I dig the felt tip of the marker against the crumpled back of the flyer and write my signature in the bottom corner.

The bright red letter glows up at me, and I feel a little better.

...

Again, let me know what you think! Your feedback is always appreciated.