The Perfect Thief

Nervous was an understatement, Emily glanced at the mirror one last time. Emily was anxious. Why? Because, today was the day Emily discovered if Haley Burton was indeed Alison's best friend, better yet, a member of the swim team. If so, Emily may get answers that reveal another side to the story. Possibly even a new outlook. Like, Alison could be what everyone murmurs endlessly about in the halls, but the complete opposite. Or Emily could be over thinking this whole issue, and maybe Alison was just really drunk. Wasted from head to toe, unsure of her surroundings. But wether it be option one or two, Emily would be lying if she said she didn't enjoy the kiss. I mean, Alison was stunningly gorgeous. Plus a great kisser. It was an honor to connect in a such a way. Normally, people would kill to even be winked at.

Now don't get me wrong, Emily Fields is not, nor ever, a lesbian. But, for Alison DiLaurentis, exceptions could be situated. That's if, Alison even felt a spark. Because, unfortunately, Alison is straight as a board. She's dated many guys, douche bags I might add, from the age of just thirteen years old. Yeah, that young. I'm telling you, Alison has the looks, brains, and a bright aurora that sucks you in. Almost like a love potion that takes one whiff to activate.

And don't even get me started on Alison's hair. With luscious honey blonde locks like that and a perfectly crafted heart shaped face, even celebrities may instantly feel insecure. Every other girl in Rosewood Day already does. Even schools like Ravenswood, a whole 'nother district, constantly buzz about Alison on a daily basis.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

Emily whipped out a white iPhone 5 to pause repetitive, annoying rings .

Oh crap. Five more minutes and Emily would be considered late. All for thinking about Alison DiLaurentis. How pathetic, Emily's cheeks filled a light pink.

Rushing,no, sprinting, Emily urgently stomped down the stair case. Grasping the only car key on the rack, revealing automatic doors to a dark blue vehicle.

Oh no, Emily groaned, the minivan. The only source of transportation since Mrs. Fields snatched Emily's eighteenth birthday present, a silver Prius.

With no choice, and no say, Emily quickly hit the pedal to the metal. Arriving at the school in a matter of two minutes to spare. Not too bad, considering the minivan has sucky horsepower.

Gathering English books, a large Starbucks thermal, and a solid blue Jansport backpack, Emily scampered to the entrance of the school. Barely in control of the books, let alone a sense of direction. But the only thing that really mattered at this point was getting to first period in one piece.

Unfortunately, Emily's books immediately splattered to the floor of the glossy hallway all in one drop. How convenient, Emily hunched over. Just then, a pair of perfectly manicured toes stepped in Emily's view. And judging by the bedazzled pink wedges, and sugar induced Victoria's Secret perfume, Emily was mortified to look up. It can't be her, Emily mentally chanted, please don't be her!

The mystery girl then kneeled to both knees, flattened out a floral pink sun dress, and collected one of the books. Not even saying a word. Just silently assisting Emily in a polite manner. Springing back up just as Emily did.

Once face to face, Emily couldn't believer the sight. It was Haley Burton from Facebook; Alison's best friend. Aside from Haley's online profile, she radiated pure beauty. Oval green eyes, tinted caramel skin, and flowing shoulder- length curly blonde hair. Partially odd combinations, but somehow managed to fit. A close second compared to Alison.

"Uh, thanks." Emily croaked out, eyeing anything but Haley.

Nice save, idiot.

"Yup." Was all Haley said, and proceeded to what Emily assumed was class. But anyways, what was up with the attire? Haley dresses just like Alison. And even the damn curls were on point! They're best friends, I guess that could be the reason, but still. The resemblance was uncanny. Emily could have swore Haley was Alison in a heartbeat.

Swinging a sharp left, carefully dodging the valuable Rosewood Day trophy cabinet, Emily fled down the pine sol filtered hallway like lightning. Now lets be honest, running sucks. It's disgustingly stupid, in fact. The only time Emily ran was for important situations, like being extremely late for class. Which, probably already began. But it wouldn't hurt to try.

"Present!" Emily felt ridiculous shouting like a mad women. But it definitely got the teachers attention. Mr. Fitz raised, scribbled on his clipboard, and directed Emily to take a seat. Warning the brunette that he'll let it slide this time. After many thank you's, Emily scanned the room, biting her lip as she did so. How is it impossible that no seats are open? The class is never this filled. Ever.

Though, as class officially started, Emily luckily spotted a seat in the middle. Right next to a group of chess playing dorks, punks dipped in black, and the biggest nerd to ever live, Spencer Hastings. then ordered everyone to whip out one of the English books that Emily carried to school. Adding that studying for next weeks test is today's goal.

Desperately, Emily chucked precious schoolwork, checked twice, and flipped the blue Jansport inside out. But the book wasn't to be found. Matter fact, it was nowhere in Emily's radius.

Suddenly, Emily sensed a light buzz. It vibrated Emily's front pocket of her jean capri cut-offs just once. Alerting the brunette that a fresh notification now lingered on the five inch screen. When actually, it was two. A text from Mrs. Fields verifying that Emily got to school on time and a notification from Facebook.

The bubble read: Alison DiLaurentis accepted your Friend Request.