A big thank you as always to RHatch89, Fun With Typing, nick2951, and karma3825 for reviewing! I checked my stats for this story and see that I have had a few readers from France. What happened yesterday is unimaginably terrible, and I'm keeping the people of Paris, and anyone who may have been affected by the events, in my thoughts. As always, please, please, review and let me know what you think!

Chapter 41

I sit in my parked car, the newspaper open and covering the steering wheel. Alison's face stares back at me, along with the caption, "Rosewood teen presumed to be dead found alive after two years."

I frown and glance out the window, aware that I have been sitting in my car outside of the DiLaurentis house for over twenty minutes, trying to work up the courage to knock on the door.

It's what I have to do, I keep reminding myself, taking hold of the door handle and then releasing it again for the fifth time. Alison's only been back in school for two days, and already it seems like armies are popping up all over the place, fighting for her or against her.

Usually I would try talking to the other girls first, but they've all been so attached to Ali's side lately that I'm not sure that conversation would go well. It's strange. Before Alison came back, I finally felt like I was starting to become real friends with Spencer, Hanna, Emily, and Aria, to really gain their trust.

And now it seems like it's back to "us" versus "them." And I have been pushed right back to "them."

A new surge of anger hits me at that thought. There's only one way to possibly put an end to this war that seems to have taken over the school, and that's directly confronting the person behind it all.

But I stare down at Alison's picture, suddenly too petrified to move, because all at once the memory of my last, and only, confrontation with her comes back to me.

…

The move from the middle school to the high school was scary. So scary, in fact, that the administration decided that the best way to deal with the transition was with they liked to call "Jump Up Day!"

I walked into school two weeks before the end of my eighth grade year, my hands clasped in front of me as I headed down the hallway with the rest of my class. We were huddled together in a pack, following closely behind the high school guidance counselor.

High school was a terrifying place. All of the students seemed so huge, and so did everything else. The lockers, the desks, the classrooms…it was all a little overwhelming.

Macy bounded up to me, grinning, her blond braids bouncing as she grabbed hold of my arm. "This is so cool!" she gushed, nodding in the direction of two beanstalk-tall boys wearing basketball jerseys. "Can't you wait to get away from all of the annoying little children at middle school?"

I frowned around, not so sure about that. Right now, I felt like a child, myself. "I guess," I said with a shrug as we passed by the two huge boys.

One of them glanced down at me and grinned, cocking an eyebrow. I jumped and moved to stand on Macy's other side. She let out a laugh and practically jumped up and down in excitement. "Oh my god! He totally just checked you out!"

I groaned, closing my eyes. "Macy, he was, like, sixteen years old."

"Yeah," she replied, smacking me on the arm. "And you look like you're sixteen." Her face reddening, she reached up and undid her braids, smoothing her fingers through her hair. "I wish I looked like you."

I twirled a piece of my dark brown hair on my finger and sighed. If I could, I would have traded appearances with Macy any day, especially now. I had the feeling that looking mature as a freshman in high school wouldn't necessarily be a good thing.

"Hey," Macy piped up, and I braced myself, ready for another comment about guys or her looks. "Isn't that your sister?"

Surprised, I gazed down the adjoining hallway in the direction that she was looking. Mona stood with her back nearly pressed up against a row of lockers, reaching up with one hand to push up her glasses. Five girls stood facing her, but one, with curly, blond hair, was clearly in charge.

Alison.

I faltered and paused, watching Alison cross her arms and toss her head back, laughing. Macy tapped me on the shoulder. "Hurry up, Viola," she said, and I realized that the rest of the group of eighth graders was already halfway down the hallway.

But I couldn't just walk away after watching my sister be bullied. "Go on," I told Macy. "I'll catch up with you."

She looked at me uncertainly, but nodded and ran off. As usual. Recently, it seemed like Macy was way more concerned with doing what everyone else was doing, instead of doing what she really wanted.

I shrugged this off and started down the hallway, taking in a deep breath. "You know, this school used to have standards," Alison was sneering, turned away enough that she couldn't see me watching. "Now it seems like they'll just let any loser in." She turned to the dirty-blonde, slightly chubby girl beside her, looked her up and down for a moment, then said sweetly, "Don't you think, Han?"

I winced. I knew how vicious Alison could be – she was practically legendary among the mean girls in the middle school – but I'd never actually been a witness to her cruelty before. So I braced myself and called, "Hey."

Mona glanced over at me, her eyes growing wide behind her glasses. "Viola, what are you…what are you doing here?"

I ignored her and looked directly at Alison, willing myself not to be afraid. "I heard what you just said. That wasn't very nice."

Alison turned to face me, her eyebrows shooting up, and for a moment I thought that I'd actually intimidated her. But then a smirk settled across her face. "Excuse me? Who, exactly, are you?"

Mona caught my eye and shook her head, shrinking back against the locker. But I walked over to her anyway, looping an arm around her shoulder. "Viola Vanderwaal. And I'm guessing you're Alison?"

Alison nudged the short girl next to her, with big eyes and hair streaked with pink, and nodded at me. "How sweet. Loser Mona's getting her little sister to fight her battles for her now. That's a new level of pathetic."

I felt my arm drop off of my sister's shoulder, back to my side. Wow. I'd dealt with my fair share of mean girls and bullies, and I didn't think anything got worse than catty eighth grade girls.

But Alison took "mean girl" to a whole new level.

"Seriously?" I asked. "What's your problem, Alison? What do you get out of talking to people like that?"

The tall, brunette girl on her other side shook her head, looking uncomfortable. "Ali, maybe we should – "

"You don't know this," Alison cut her off, stepping closer to me. I estimated that we were probably around the same height, although in her high heels she had a good few inches on me, "but I own this school. And I'm not about to let some snotty little eighth grader come in here and talk down to me."

I took a step forward as well, and Mona reached out, grabbing my arm at the same time that the tall brown-haired girl grabbed Alison's. I pulled my hand away and smiled. "And you don't know this," I said, dropping my voice, "but you have another thing coming if you think that I'm going to stand around and let you treat my sister like crap. You might talk big now, but if I have anything to do with it, next year is going to be very different."

Alison's eyes narrowed, and I could practically see fire behind them. I took in a silent breath, willing myself to meet her gaze. I couldn't back down now. Not after that.

"Viola!" a slightly nasally voice called, and a moment later, one of the middle school teachers who accompanied us down here turned the corner. She frowned at the sight of us all. "What are you doing?"

All at once, Alison's demeanor changed. She uncrossed her arms, her mouth curving into a sweet smile. "Hi, Mrs. Norbert," she trilled. "Viola just got separated from the rest of the group, so I thought I'd give her an introduction to Rosewood High!"

Mrs. Norbert smiled back at her, and it was only then that I realized why Alison was able to get away with treating people so horribly: She had everyone else fooled. "How nice of you, Alison," the English teacher said kindly. "We miss you down at the middle school."

Alison beamed back at her, giving a little wave. "Come on, Viola," Mrs. Norbert said to me, gesturing for me to follow her. "I have to set you up with a lunch ID."

"Sure," I replied, but turned, realizing with a start that my sister had vanished. Startled, I glanced once more at Alison. Her smile was still firmly in place, but her eyes met mine, hardening.

I turned away and walked down the hallway, making sure to keep my head held high. Suddenly, I couldn't wait for summer to be over and high school to begin.

Because this wasn't over.

…

By the time I've finished reliving this memory, my body has acted independently of my brain and has carried me all the way out of the car and up to the DiLaurentis' front porch.

Crap. I am not ready for this.

Or maybe I am, I realize, as I reach up to press the doorbell without hesitation. If I could deal with Alison at her worst, at the top of her regime, there's no reason why I can't deal with her now.

I'm expecting her father to answer the door. Apparently he's been pretty protective since she's been back, and really, who could blame him? I'm rehearsing what to say in my head when the door opens.

"Viola?" Alison says in surprise, and I actually take a step back in alarm. "What are you doing here?"

This reminds me of that day, way back in eighth grade, in front of the lockers, although this time her voice is completely lacking in venom. "Alison," I reply, caught off guard. "Um, can I – can I come in?"
She nods and opens the door further, allowing me to step inside before closing it behind me. While she's turned away, I take a deep breath and close my eyes for a moment. Without opening them, I burst out, "Whatever you're doing, it needs to stop."

I open my eyes and whirl around. She's staring at me, but there's no anger in her eyes. In fact, all I see on her face is…surprise? Confusion? "I don't know what you're talking about," she says, folding her arms. Her voice is filled with defiance.

I raise my eyebrows in disbelief. "Oh really? You don't think I might have seen that video of you slapping my sister so hard that you somehow scratched her? Come on, Ali, the whole school saw what happened."

"And everyone's turned against me," she says, and I can see the desperation in her eyes. "But that's not what really happened, Viola. She slapped me first, I swear to you."

I'm surprised by her attitude, so much so that I have trouble coming up with a response. Why is she so intent on trying to convince me of this? Shouldn't she hate me? "Why would I believe you, after what you said on that video? Loser Mona? Really? What, are we back in middle school now?"

Alison looks almost flustered for a moment, her eyes darting around. Finally she takes in a breath and brushes past me, over to the window. The blinds are shut tight. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

I sigh. I know I should leave, especially after that remark, but something about the way she said it gives me the impression that there's more going on. "Listen, Ali," I try again, refocusing. "I understand that you're freaked out, especially after what happened to your mom." I pause, watching her shoulders tense, and go on, "But my sister isn't the enemy."

"She could have fooled me," Alison snaps, whirling back around to face me. "Building an army against me and everything? Sure seems like she's preparing for a war."

I roll my eyes. I'm getting really sick of the stupid army. "I really doubt you have to worry about a bunch of high school kids," I say, folding my arms. "But there is someone you – and the rest of us – really should be worried about."

She frowns, glancing around. " 'A' is gone, Viola. Shana's dead."

I watch her carefully. I never really believed that Shana was "A." I mean, she apparently indirectly claimed that she was, and since then, I for one haven't heard head nor tail from our favorite stalker, but still. It just seems so…random.

And besides. If Shana was in New York, who killed Alison's mom that night?

I open my mouth to say all of this, but pause. Losing a parent is hard enough. I really don't want to bring that up. She probably hears enough about it as it is.

Suddenly itching to get out of here, I fidget with my hands and step closer to the door. "You're right. 'A' is gone," I repeat, staring down at the ground. "Just…please. Please leave my family out of whatever you're dealing with." But this doesn't seem like a harsh enough statement to bring home my point, so I grab the doorknob and turn back, narrowing my eyes. "We're not in eighth grade anymore, Alison. If I hear that you're going back to your old ways and messing with Mona again, I'll have to stop you myself. And trust me. It won't be pretty."

"I told you," Alison says desperately, "I didn't – "

I step through the front door and let it close behind me before I hear the rest. I stand on her porch for a moment, taking a deep breath, before heading back to my car. I'm only halfway there when my phone goes off, and I find out that I was right: "A" was never gone.

Really want to make sure your family stays safe? Here's a hint: Start minding your own business. –A

I stare down at the message, not alarmed because it's from "A," for once, but because of what it contains. All of the blinds were closed tight in Ali's house, and I hadn't heard a sound the whole time I was in there. I know that "A" is good, but can anyone really be that good?

The odds of anyone listening from outside or somehow sneaking in seem slim compared to the other option, which practically jumps out at me.

Shana wasn't "A." Alison is.

...

Thanks for reading! Again, please let me know what you think. I really appreciate any feedback I get. I can't give too much of a summary about the next chapter without giving anything away, but I will say that Viola is asked to keep a new secret...one that is potentially dangerous. Any thoughts?