In the early morning, Spencer's bedroom window was slightly ajar. Creeping up the lids of her half-shut eyes, dusty, blue light danced, and floating into her room in tendrils, a soft song filled her ears. The melody was French, and seemed to emanate from somewhere outside, its beat almost in sync with the tweeting of birds.

Perhaps it was coming from Ali's house.

Or from somebody's car - a lonely person, driving home after a long night out.

Either way, it was comforting and sweet, and Spencer smiled as the notes kissed her ears.

"Spencer!" Someone called suddenly. The voice seemed louder than usual, distorted, slicing through the peace of the mellow winter morning. With a hardly suppressed groan, Spencer's eyes flickered open completely, and she found herself staring up at the awning of her four-poster bed, the clock on the wall marking it as half six in the morning.

"Spencer!" the voice came again, slightly louder and more forceful, "Don't make me come up and get you!"

Neither Spencer nor her mother were morning people, and she normally tried her best not to get on Veronica's bad side this early.

"Hi sweetie," Veronica blew steam over her mug of coffee, her eyes slightly drooping , "did you sleep well?"

"Mhmm..." Spencer replied, a small noise escaping her lips that was neither a confirmation nor a dissent to her mother's question. Spencer had never really been one to sleep very well; she'd usually toss and turn for hours every night, trying to shut off her racing mind. But it wasn't like then. And that was a relief.

"Where's Dad?" she asked, easing into her chair opposite Veronica. All she had was coffee. Spencer wasn't hungry today. Her mother eyed her daughter's breakfast choice suspiciously, but opted not to say anything. No doubt she expected her to buy a muffin at Brew on her way to school.

"He's in Boston now- I thought I told you? He'll be away until next Wednesday" Spencer shook her head. She felt awful feeling like this, but sometimes, she liked it when her dad went away. It was gratifying to see her mom relax, loosen up a bit, when he left the house.

"Oh." Spencer picked up her Rosewood I.D, lying discarded on the table, and began absentmindedly turning it in her hands. "So Hanna wanted the four of us over for a sleepover tonight," she said glancing up at her mother through her eyelashes. The card fell to the ground, and Spencer ignored it. "Can I go?"

Veronica smiled, "Sure." She began to wash her coffee mug, and almost as an afterthought, glanced at her daughter over her shoulder, "Just remember not to go out after nine."

Spencer rolled her eyes, "Have I ever?"

"There's a first time for everything," Veronica said sternly, "And remember Melissa's coming back today, so please don't incite an argument as soon as you walk through that door tomorrow morning."

"Wouldn't dream of it Mom," Spencer sniffed, picking her school bag up and sliding out of her chair. "See you tomorrow," she called as she made her way to the door.

Her Rosewood I.D lay abandoned on the floor.

The following excerpt is by Adapting to Rosewood Life, issued by the Rosewood Municipal on the 24th March 1990:

It is vital that every Rosewood citizen

must carry their Rosewood I.D at all times when not in the vicinity of their own homes. These cards are used by the Municipality to monitor your whereabouts, and must be swiped through the scanners at the entrance to public places, with the exception of Rosewood Green Spaces and Rosewood Corner Stores. The Rosewood Police has the authority to check your card at any given moment, and failing to present your Rosewood I.D could result, depending on your record, from a fine of $580 to any consequence indicated by the Alarms (for Alarms, see page 56).

Only when she got to school, did Spencer realise, with a sinking feeling, what she was missing. Since she'd left the house, she hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something remained forgotten, and now... And now... It hadn't been in its normal place, tucked neatly besides the dollar bills in her wallet. Or in any of her pockets. Or loose in her handbag. She checked once, twice, three times, each time more thoroughly than the next, but still, it didn't show up. Oh god. Oh god, oh god. How could she have been this stupid? Her I.D card. Discarded on the kitchen floor.

Spencer's heart dropped into her boots.

"Emily! Emily, Emily!" Spencer rushed at the first friend she saw, her arms gripping onto her friend's, "Em I need your help!"

A panicked expression crossed Emily's face. "W-what?" She stuttered, "what's happening?"

"My I.D card - I've left it at home, and I obviously can't miss school, but I can't be late either and I can't get in without my I.D, and class starts in ten minutes and my car isn't fast enough, and I'm freaking out and I don't know what to do and-"

"-hey!" Somehow it had gone from Spencer holding Emily's arm, to Emily holding Spencer's. "Look, just take half a second to breathe Spence," Emily said soothing, "and calm down."

"Calm down?!" Spencer yelled suddenly, only vaguely aware of the small crowd now peering curiously at them, "I'm gonna get a Strike! How can I be calm? Oh god I'm gonna miss school and get a Strike - and with my resume," her head had quickly gone into her hands, covering both her ears and eyes slightly, as though she could shut out the world, "oh god, what am I gonna do, what am I gonna-"

"- I have a motorcycle," someone from the crowd interjected, "it's fast, I can take you home." Spencer looked up from her hands to see Toby Cavanaugh coming towards her. In this moment, there was nothing terrifying or dangerous in him.

It was with no hesitation, then, that Spencer made her next choice. She didn't care what people said about this boy. She didn't care that he was weird, that he was unstable. She just knew that he was the only thing that could save her from getting her second Strike, and that she couldn't afford to be picky.

It was strange, how little discomfort she felt. Here Spencer was, behind Toby Cavanaugh, of all people, pressed against his back, yet it didn't bother her. Sure, she'd never ridden a motorcycle before, and she was pretty sure they were going far over the speed limit, but as far as fear went, that was it. Every time Toby accelerated, Spencer felt the ripple of tightening muscles in his back, and she wondered distantly if the pounding of her heart and the exhilaration in her veins was solely because of her missing I.D.

"I didn't know you had a Strike," Toby said after a while. He lowered his voice when he said this, like he was unsure whether it was his place to ask or not. They were just pulling up outside her gate, and the force of their halt knocked Spencer heavily into his back.

"Yeah," she shrugged, "a few months back."

"Oh."

There was an awkward pause, before Toby smiled forcefully and hopped off the bike, pulling Spencer with him.

"We need to be quick," She muttered, reaching for the key in her purse.

Toby smiled as he kicked back on the engine, avidly aware of Spencer's hands wrapped around his waist.

Of course, they were both in huge danger of another Strike. And of course, if any police officer saw them right now they'd be detained. But Toby didn't care.

Because for the first time since coming to Rosewood, he was spending time with someone.

And that someone was not running from him.

They were grateful for him.

Over the wind, Spencer shouted something unintelligible.

"What?!" He yelled over the din.

"I said," Spencer leaned closer to him and his heart skipped a beat, "thank you!"

They had just rounded the corner and could see the school take shape on the sidewalk. His smile stretched even further, touching his eyes.

"My pleasure," he shouted back.

"So did you do it?" Aria asked her later that lunchtime. Halfway through chewing her salad, Spencer nodded.

"I have to pick the doll up on Monday." She mumbled, skewering a tomato with her fork. Aria's shoulders sagged with relief, and she grasped her friend's hand.

"Thanks Spence," she sighed, "I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't - If you hadn't..." Spencer smiled, "I know," she breathed. "But I did do it and-"

"-'Afternoon" Ali slid into the seat besides Spencer, Emily and Hanna right behind her. "What did Spencer do?"

Spencer and Aria exchanged glances, a question flickering each of their eyes. Aria cleared her throat and glanced up at her friends. "Spencer was- she was just helping me with my homework." Alison pursed her lips, but let the lie slide.

Rather, she propped her elbows on the table and leant forwards with a teasing smile on her face."Emily told me about this morning," her smile turned mysterious, and she lowered her voice, "Don't you go falling for Toby Cavanaugh now," her voice dropped an octave lower, "he's bad news."

Spencer laughed and shook her head. "He's nice, actually."

"He has a Strike."

Spencer's head whipped up, sharp as a blade. "So do I," she snapped.

"But that's different, Spence."

"Is it? He's out, isn't he? Of Juvie? That must account for something, mustn't it?"

Ali bit her lip and looked down at her plate. "Sorry Spencer. I guess you're right."

Spencer didn't know if her friend was too tired to argue, or had genuinely recognised that Spencer was right, but every time the notorious Alison DiLaurentis conceded, admitted defeat, it took Spencer by surprise. This sweeter Ali was still new in contrast to who she had been before, and no one, including Spencer, was quite sure what to make of this change in character.

Orchestrating a short escapade with a girl he hardly knew, speeding through town on the old motorcycle, and risking a second Strike had not been on Toby's To-Do list for today. Yet, oddly, it had most certainly been the highlight of his time here. There'd been something in those ten minutes, an emotion that he couldn't describe, that had made him feel so free. Like if he looked hard enough, he could find, within the confines and rules of Rosewood life, that there were still those things that could make him feel alive.

Toby couldn't concentrate on the lesson. The sums, the formulas, the algebraic expressions, they all passed right over his head. The teacher's long drone was nothing but a buzzing in his ears, and the pen in his slackened grip kept falling onto the page. All he could think about was the exhilaration of that morning. The adrenaline that had come with the risk. The buck of his bike. The feel of Spencer's arms wrapped around his waist. The pure, pure elation that had come when the girl had shown no fear with him.

If he were to shift a little in his chair, and angle his head just to the right, he could see her. Up front, and bent over her work, Spencer Hastings. Her long, dark hair cascading in waves down her back, her strong shoulders hunched intently over a piece of work. He hadn't known his neighbour for very long at all, but already he knew that if he were to walk over and face her, he would see her face furrowed in concentration, her pen forming numbers that to her, at least, made sense. And he knew that her eyes would be unmoving and unfazed by the daunting questions glaring up from the sheet.

Spencer Hastings was dauntless.

"Mr Cavanaugh?"

Toby looked up, surprised. Standing over his desk, Mr Watford stared down at him, hands planted firmly on his hips. His lips were pursed, and for a moment, Toby was struck by how much he looked like a duck. He suppressed the urge to laugh. Glanced curiously up at his teacher.

"Yes Sir?"

"Pay attention please," he began to move away from Toby's desk, but almost as an afterthought, added in a teasing, hushed tone, "I'm sure Miss Hastings doesn't appreciate being stared at."

It was only a joke, but a dark red blossomed on Toby's cheeks. Up ahead, Spencer turned around curiously, a frown on her face. She took in the predicament, and presently, her ears turned pink. Ever so slightly, Toby's heart sank.

Later, when the lesson ended, Toby threw his belongings into his bag and crashed through the door of Mr Watford's room. Where had she gone? She and Alison had been one of the first to exit the class, and he really needed to speak with her.

For a moment, Toby stood in the hallway, his eyes desperately combing the scores of students - laughing, shouting, talking. Laughing, shouting, talking. Backing away from him. It was lesson change-over, and the sheer abundance of people seemed overbearing all too suddenly.

"Spencer?" He called out. A dark head appeared in the crowd. Another one. Another. Why were so many kids brunette? It made it difficult to find her, like an impossible game of Where's Waldo?

"Spencer?" He reiterated, beginning to plough through the throngs. Where was she? What class did she-

"-Toby!" A familiar voice said behind him. Gratefully, Toby turned, looking upon Spencer's preoccupied expression and the mistrust scored on Alison's face. "Are you okay?" Spencer asked. Toby mopped his brow and smiled.

"Fine," he said. "I just wanted to let you know that I-I wasn't looking at you earlier." Something strange was happening to Spencer's face. Her cheeks had flushed red with colour, her eyes shone a little too much. Had he done something wrong?

Alison's countenance twisted in confusion, and she looked to her friend for an answer. But the answer never came, because still looking at Toby, Spencer merely shrugged, a small smile on her face.

"I know," she mumbled. She seemed almost nervous - not about him. About something else.

Chalking it up to the anxiety of schools corridors, Toby smiled again, dimly aware that again, his cheeks were slightly flushed.

"Good," he breathed.

As Spencer, blushing, watched Toby slip away into the crowd, Alison snickered beside her, and when she turned to her friend, she was barely suppressing a giggle.

"What?" She demanded, but a reinforced flush was creeping up her cheeks, and when she spoke, her voice was breathy with contained laughter. "Ali!" Spencer reached out to grab her friend, but Alison just breezed past, waving a hand dismissively as she went.

"Tell me!" Spencer complained after her. With another laugh, Ali turned, a humoured smile on her face.

"Oh you and Toby," she put on a fake dreamy voice and tossed her hair. "Staring at each other with those lustful eyes, your faces fixed with pure adoration. At least try and hide your little crush, Spence."

"I beg your pardon," Spencer latched onto her friend's arm again with a grin, "my eyes are not lustful. And - hell, Ali, I do not have a crush on Toby Cavanaugh!"

"Sure you don't! Oh Ali he is not that bad! Oh he's so nice! He's good looking Alison- maybe he'll marry me!"

"I have never said that in my life, Alison. Besides, I do not like him that way! Anyway, you clearly hate him."

"Well that's besides the point," Ali shook Spencer off, the lines of laughter still etched on her face. "Just wait till I tell the others." Alison waved a hand, and with little warning, turned and ducked into the crowds.

"Wait? What? No, Ali!" Spencer suppressed both a laugh and a groan as she ran after her friend.

"Guess what, guys?" Ali announced, as soon as they had all convened after school, "Spencer has a crush on Toby Cavanaugh!"

Spencer practically tripped after her, indignation and self-preservation filling up inside of her, "I do not!" She declared. A girl getting into her black Toyota Prius cast them a strange look as she slammed shut the door of her car.

"What?!" Emily asked. "Seriously? With Toby Cavanaugh? Have you arranged to go out? Is he not very dangerous. Spence, I didn't know you had a thing for bad boys." Since her date with Savannah, any mention of something romantic got her more excited than usual, as if going out with someone has piqued her thirst for gossip and love even more so. Alison, it seemed was not entirely comfortable with this, but Spencer had learnt not to confront her about it again. Not again.

"I do not!" Spencer said empathetically. She adjusted the collar on her shirt and glared at Alison, "Alison just thinks I do."

"Oh, you so do!" Ali sniffed. She turned to the others with a beam on her face, "you should have seen her blush when he told her he wasn't looking at her in Math. But he was, I saw him."

"Spencer Hastings was blushing?"

"He was looking at her in Math?" Hanna and Aria clamoured over each other. Pinching the bridge of her nose Spencer strode through them, breaking apart the little huddle they had found themselves in. She held her hand out to Hanna for her car keys, one hand on the trunk of the vehicle.

"I do not," she conceded calmly, "Hanna, are you driving, or can I?"

There were cookies in the oven. Spencer could almost smell them before Hanna opened the door, their delicious aroma wafting through the open windows. So tantalising. They reminded Spencer of something cozy and laid-back, and all the things that growing up in her household, were as seldom as seldom went. Greedily, she watched as Hanna opened the door to the house. The turn of the key seemed interminable. The slow, leisurely opening of the door. The girls padded inside, their eyes eager and wide, their mouths watering.

"Hello, girls," Ashley greeted them in the foyer. She was coming down the stairs, hands clad in oven gloves. She smiled kindly, pulling her daughter into a tight hug. Spencer's heart ached suddenly. Since last year, Veronica's affection to her daughter seemed to be decreasing daily. Of course, she still showed her signs of beautiful, vigorous love between a mother and a daughter, but Spencer found herself wondering when the last time was her mother had held her like that for a reason as mundane as returning from school. When had she last kissed her? When had she last held her daughter's hand? The Hastings communicated their love to each other through words. It was as though her parents never left work, as though they had an endless supply of sentences and precepts that they threw out to each other, to their daughters, to the neighbors across the road. Words were important to the Hastings. One didn't make impressions by kissing. They made impressions by bestowing the world around them with gorgeously sculpted penmanship and English strung together as carefully as a painter.

"Hi girls," Ashley said, breaking Spencer from her reverie, "I'm going out now, but I baked something for you."

Aria smiled. "We noticed. Thank you."