Chapter 16
Mentor POV
For me, the next week passed quickly. A was taking her break and thoroughly enjoying it, as far as I could tell. It seemed to me that she was missing being A: sometimes I saw her reaching to grab her cell phone, only to remember it wasn't within reach. Other times, she looked like she wanted to go and listen in on someone's conversation, and send a text. I realized how much she'd come to depend on being A. I hoped the news would break soon: I was bored and wanted entertainment, and it seemed to me that she was quickly getting bored. I continued my routine of checking in on the girls and taking notes: to give A the break she wanted, without interruption, I planned to save the notes for until she was finished with her break.
None of the girls were doing anything stupid, which disappointed me. Between the four of them, I would have thought they would use the opportunity to do things they shouldn't, knowing that A wasn't watching. Or maybe they figured that just because A wasn't watching, they weren't safe. True, she wasn't watching, but I was. And I was concerned they might figure out that there were two people working on being A.
So far, I'd found out that Spencer thought A might be Ian Thomas. She knew A was going on holiday, and she knew from Melissa that Ian was. It appeared that she had already done the maths and concluded that Ian Thomas and A were the same person. Poor girl, she was so far from the truth. I'd have to keep that in mind. A could use it as ammunition when she returned: once Rosewood found out Ian was dead, she could text Spencer. Spencer would have to use her analytical skills to try figuring out who A was now.
Emily seemed to be clinging to the belief that A was secretly Alison DiLaurentis. That didn't surprise me: she probably saw something of Alison's face in every girl with blue eyes and blond hair she saw. She still held the belief that Alison was alive and well, somewhere in the world. There wasn't even any basis for the beliefs she held, unless you counted her crush and 'undying' love for her. And those were hardly solid grounds to believe that someone was alive, when all evidence pointed to the opposite.
Aria and Hanna didn't seem to know what to think. Aria thought it might be either Alison, or her ghost. Trust Aria to believe in the supernatural. Probably thought that the odd texts were Alison's ghost, trying to make amends. Because, you know, ghosts used texts and other technology to do that.
Hanna thought it could be Ian or Melissa. I knew Melissa better than she did though, and knew that while Melissa could be manipulative, she didn't quite have the necessary mind frame to kill someone or skulk around doing what A had been for months. Like she'd told Spencer one time, it took a very unique person to kill. Unique, like myself and A.
So, in all, none of the girls were that close to the truth. That, of course, was a good thing. A and I were nowhere near being suspects, and that meant that we were free to carry on, as long as we remained inconspicuous.
Of course, that was no problem. We'd been doing this for so long now, that either of us could blend flawlessly into a crowd, even if we stood out from it at the same time.
In years gone by, one of us had been standing out from the crowd. Then, circumstances meant that it was the other.
APOV
Time dragged on slowly for me. The week I spent not being A was torturously slow, as if someone had slowed time to make sure I fully dealt with not doing my usual A duties. It was made worse knowing that my mentor was running around doing the things I should be doing, and the guilt from that hit me sometimes.
The first day was the most annoying. I made a conscious decision not to touch my Blackberry for the week. Despite this, my fingers twitched, wanting nothing more than to be holding my cell phone. Feeling the weight of it, smooth and cool, in my hand. Running my finger over the buttons, readying myself to begin typing out another message. The hardest was when I saw Aria talking to Noel Kahn, not someone she ever would have spoken to. The curiosity was overwhelming, and I was immediately desperate to text her and ask why they were talking. Of course I couldn't, because my blocked-number cell phone was at home.
The next days crawled by, and after the fourth day I barely noticed the absence of my cell phone. I relished the fourth day, knowing that soon I would be back and better than before. I would also have some new ammunition: I knew my mentor had gone to find out who each of the girls thought it was. She was saving that information for me, guessing that I would want to know it after my break had finished. Of course she was right; she knew me almost as well as I knew myself.
Finally, the week ended. It was now the day when Ian Thomas was supposed to have been returning from Spain.
My mentor and I met after school to discuss it, and figured that we had a few more days to wait before anyone started asking questions. She thought that people would make the assumption that he had gone straight home, straight to bed to sleep off his jet lag. I was inclined to agree. It was both good and bad. It afforded us extra time to plan, but that also meant that we had to wait the extra time. Already, we'd been waiting two weeks for this to happen.
I was looking forward to it. Already, my mind was returning to A's usual mindset. I was planning what I would do. My first text would definitely have to be to Spencer, I decided, even as I began planning what it would say.
Finally, I had finished my planning. By now, I had a stack of texts saved in my drafts folder, waiting to serve their purpose.
I slipped my phone back into my bag, and waited for the next day.
SPOV
The night Ian was due to return from Spain, I felt anxious and slightly jumpy. An odd foreboding feeling settled over me, and I wondered if there was a reason for it. I'd felt this feeling before, the anticipation that something was going to happen soon and that I should expect it to happen. Of course, I didn't know what it was I should be expecting to happen.
It was times like these I really wished I had some way of knowing what the future would bring. A was, as far as I knew, still on holiday. Which meant that it was probably Ian. So, that meant the notes would be starting up soon. Ian would probably wait a few days, so as not to draw attention to himself: it would be too obvious if he got back and the A notes started up instantly.
Despite the fact that he was A, I wanted to talk to him. Ask why he had decided to impersonate Alison, why he'd felt it necessary to run around stalking myself and the other girls, terrorizing us. Especially since he knew what Mona had done.
I also wanted to know what he knew. Some time ago, A had implied that he knew a lot, and I'd decided that I needed to find out what it was. It was strange that A had turned out to be Ian Thomas, since it didn't really make any sense.
It was an annoying cycle. One that could go around and around in circles, if all the questions weren't asked and answered.
As soon as I could, I was going to find him and ask him everything.
APOV
Poor Spencer. She really believed that she would get to interrogate Ian and ask him everything. I almost felt sorry for her. At the moment, I was sitting, dressed in my typical disguise, and watching. She paced restlessly, and I started to wonder how worn the carpet was. Just then, I heard the phone ringing, and put in my favourite device-the in-ear thing that made my hearing much better than it was. Recently, I'd had it fixed up, so now it resembled an earphone.
That had been a stroke of genius. Now, I just looked like a girl sitting in the woods, listening to music. Nothing suspicious or strange.
I focused on the phone conversation, tuning in and listening very carefully. Doing this for so long had fine-tuned my ability to listen to just one thing. With my enhanced hearing, it was always so tempting to stop and just listen to everything I could hear. Months of practice had helped me hone the ability to resist that temptation, and now I listened intently.
Melissa was on the phone, clearly to one of her friends. Well, obviously she wouldn't be talking to Ian. She didn't know it yet, but his corpse was rotting away in the bottom of a wishing well. She was now going on about how she just couldn't wait to see Ian, and that she'd missed him so much. I was grateful that I didn't get sick easily: listening to all this sappy crap might make me sick otherwise.
My mentor's suspicions were confirmed a little later, when she said he would be going straight home from the airport, and directly to sleep off the jet lag. I was pleased to hear that she didn't think he would be calling anyone to check in, or let them know he was home. I had to wonder why that was. Was he really that selfish? I considered this, and decided against it. My guess was that it was just an attempt to be pragmatic or something.
Finally, Melissa got off the phone. I listened to her and Spencer snipe at each other for a few minutes, then they stopped. The jingling of keys alerted me to the fact that someone was going out, and I watched as Melissa got into her car, holding a small parcel. Probably a sap-o-rama welcome home gift for Ian.
Once she left, I jogged home. My mind was calculating the next steps. Knowing Melissa, she'd just leave the parcel in the mailbox for Ian, not wanting to disturb him. Spencer would be driving by his house sometime in the next few days and would no doubt stop in to see if he was around at some point. After a few days, she'd probably ask Melissa if she'd heard from or seen Ian.
That would be when the questions started. Not long after, Rosewood would once again become a media circus. I didn't doubt that people would somehow find a way to link his death to Alison's. And then, the rumours and speculations would circulate.
My mentor would be annoyed, and I was always the one who listened to her ranting. She complained about the justice system, the police force… she tended to have a complete disregard for people in government or authority positions. Teachers, for instance, were often complaining about her anti-authority attitude. The irony was that she considered herself to be a teacher of sorts, teaching people 'lessons' about lying. Rather, punishing them for lying. She considered it a sort of service, which was also ironic because she disdained people who worked for the benefit of others. So, her doing what she did was the ultimate irony, because she was doing the two things she disdained the most. I didn't know if she did that deliberately or unintentionally.
One thing I did know, was that once the proverbial hit the fan, she would be watching the drama unfold.
I knew she was also considering if A should tip off the police. Personally, I was against it. It would draw attention to A, and neither of us wanted that. When I considered how much time and effort I put into being anonymous and inconspicuous, I didn't want to do something that would swing a massive spotlight onto someone who went by A. I knew she would agree with me there, as when I'd first started being A, she drilled into me that the most important tool I had was anonymity. She literally reminded me of it daily for a month. She slipped notes into my locker, reminding me of it in just one word. She did all sorts of things to make sure I kept it in mind. One time, she drew a stick figure with a blank face, and a question mark above the persons face.
I pointed this out to her, and she agreed that I wouldn't tip off the police. As long as four pretty little liars kept quiet, so would I.
Finally, a few days later, the news broke. Ian Thomas was missing, and no one had heard from him in weeks. More, it turned out that he hadn't checked in to his flight to Spain.
Stupid people. Everyone else was so oblivious. I almost pitied them. They knew nothing. It was tempting to write an article, or at the least distribute fliers telling everyone that he was dead.
At the moment, the police weren't looking at it as a murder or homicide yet. So far, it looked like Ian had just taken off somewhere without telling anyone. It wasn't exactly a high priority: he wasn't young or old enough for someone to fear for his safety, and he probably wouldn't be treated as a runaway-just someone who took off for a holiday without telling anyone.
How selfish. If you're going to take off on holiday, at least tell someone so they don't go to the police and report you missing. Of course, he wouldn't be doing anything ever again, except rotting away.
I would have to wait until the police changed the search at least to a homicide enquiry, before baiting the girls. But that didn't mean I couldn't ask them to try finding out where Ian might be. What had happened to him.
Better to wait though, until they were all together. And when I could see them all at once. It would be more fun for me, to be able to watch their reactions than try to imagine it. I wasn't really in this for fun, but I couldn't resist looking for it occasionally. And who could blame me? I had to spend time running around, scheming, eavesdropping, doing things at midnight to be sure I was protected by the darkness. I lost out on sleep. My grades suffered occasionally, like the time I barely passed an English test. Only one other person knew what I was doing, and I had to keep a secret from the rest of the world. So, yeah, I think I was pretty fair in wanting to look to find something fun or amusing in what I was doing.
My mentor appeared, seemingly out of thin air. She handed me a slip of paper, on which was written O/W, Ar, S, E, H. Mtg. I rapidly decoded it, recognizing that Officer Wilden, Aria, Spencer, Emily and Hanna were meeting sometime soon… she seemed to read my mind, and was quick to supply the information I wanted: tomorrow evening, Spencer's house. I would have to pay a little visit to them. I'd bet he wanted to talk to them about Ian. Spencer especially, because of the link she had to him through her sister. That would be good to watch, Wilden grilling Spencer. I'd love to watch her squirm.
For my sake, I hoped they met in a room where anyone could see in. Better yet, they would meet in one of the side rooms, where I could hide out while I listened. I'd have to take my hearing device, the one that helped my hearing, and wear my usual disguise… that wouldn't be so bad. If it meant I got useful information, I'd take it any day.
I packed together my things that night, excitement humming through my veins like a shot of caffeine. As far as I was concerned, A was back.
Mentor POV
A was packing her things together and getting ready for the next day. For her, it wouldn't be a busy day, or eventful, but she did need her supplies at times. Tomorrow was one of those times, and we were both happier when she was organised and ready for anything. Of course, A would never go around without something she might need. I knew she'd rather die first. Well, maybe not quite, but she'd give her computer and cell phone if it meant she'd always have the stuff she needed.
Both of us were fairly sure we knew what Wilden had summoned the girls for. He wanted to talk to them about Ian. During her little holiday, I had borrowed A's cell phone to email Wilden, and anonymously implicate Ian in Alison's death. He evidently bought it, and I suppose that to him, it made sense somehow. The way I figured it, Ian had been missing for around three weeks now. It could easily be a guilty conscience, or a killer trying to get away because he suspected someone knew what he'd done. What was to say he hadn't upped sticks and taken off?
As for me, I was just grateful that I was on the right side of things: I knew everything, and so did A. Neither of us were left in the dark, trying to scramble around digging for answers. If the girls dug any deeper for answers, they could study and train to become archaeologists.
Still, it was amusing to watch them try to find answers. Watch them think they knew everything, only to have the theories blown out of the water later when something happened to prove them wrong. The look on their pretty little faces when they realized they were back to square one. The slightly slumped shoulders and dejected look, as if they had just failed some major test. In a small way, they had failed.
Best of all, the realization that was dawning on them: they knew absolutely nothing. A knew more than they did; so did I. Together, it was a powerful combination. It amazed me, that they were only just now beginning to realize the power. How could anyone be so stupid, so shallow and superficial, to think they were above A?
Knowledge is power, after all.
So, can someone please tell me why I'm not getting any reviews? This story broke 500 hits the other day. Am I doing something wrong? Surely 500+ hits can't be wrong… My stories are getting towards 2000 hits for this month with not many reviews. That tells me that maybe they're decent, but with no reviews, I have no way of knowing.
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