Pretty Little Liars: Ali's Pretty Little Lies
By Sara Shepard
4/5
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About this ebook
#1 New York Times bestselling series
Perfect for fans of the #1 New York Times bestselling series and the hit ABC Family TV show, this Pretty Little Liars prequel novel reveals Ali's secrets from before she was murdered.
Rewind a few years to seventh grade: Alison DiLaurentis and her friends are the It girls of Rosewood Day. Boys want to date them. Girls want to be them. But even though they seem to have it all, these girls are hiding some major secrets—especially Ali. She knows better than anyone that if the truth gets out, it will ruin everything.
Set in the weeks before Ali's murder, Ali's Pretty Little Lies is the first Pretty Little Liars novel told entirely from Ali's point of view. After all, who better to tell her story than Ali herself, the prettiest little liar of all?
Sara Shepard
Sara Shepard is the author of two New York Times bestselling series, Pretty Little Liars and The Lying Game, as well as the series The Perfectionists. She graduated from New York University and has an MFA from Brooklyn College.
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Reviews for Pretty Little Liars
74 ratings4 reviews
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Ali's Pretty Little Lies was so good! It was creepy. It told the story on how the switch happened between Alison and Courtney and the events leading to Real Courtney's death the night of the end of seventh grade sleepover.
Of course, I knew what was going to happened to Alison and Courtney but it was heartbreaking in the end. The real Ali buried the real Courtney alive to die in their backyard. I felt bad for Real Courtney because she really thought the worst that Real Ali was going to do to her was switch back. She never thought Ali would kill her, even Ali herself lost her nerve at one point.
Which brings up a very interesting development: The Third A. I guess in the story-line this unknown person would be the Second A. Third A was helping Ali with this whole plan. I am not sure what Plan A was but Plan B was to kill Real Courtney so Real Ali can take her place. Her parents weren't going for it, for whatever reason, and shipped her back to The Preserve. It was interesting to see her hatred manifest to include the Pretty Little Liars.
Sara Shepard wrote a great book and kept continuity on point. I was glad for that. I was thinking maybe Real Ali is dead and the Third A is the one torturing the Liars. Maybe this Third A is Nick? He did seemingly come out of nowhere and disappeared just as fast. The only other person who saw Nick was Ian and he was killed. What if he wasn't killed because he found out about the twins but because he knew of Nick?
Man, I cannot wait for Crushed and Deadly! - Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5I read this book before reading the rest of the series.. actually I tried to start book 1 first but couldn't get into it so I decided to try reading this one first. The premise of the story really drew me in to read the rest of the book.. to say what that is would probably be a spoiler but it is revealed early in the story and it's a good one! Even without knowing what happens in the other books it was a compelling and quick read. The things I didn't like about this book is that it's a bit young for me, I think younger readers would enjoy it more, and most of the characters seem very self-centered and unlikable, especially the main character Ali. They reminded me of the mean girls in school! But all the action and drama in the story keep the reader interested despite these limitations.
- Rating: 1 out of 5 stars1/5I was really excited for this, but it turned out to be a huge disappointment. It was in Ali's POV, but her character wasn't well developed at all, and seemed vapid and shallow. All Ali seems to care about was keeping her identity and her secret boyfriend. There was no new depth to Ali's character. If anything, it just deepened my hate for her. I have the feeling during some parts we are supposed to feel sympathetic for Ali, but I honestly don't feel sympathetic because the circumstances are unrealistic and faulty and could be easily resolved. The purpose of the book was to discover how Ali was feeling during the weeks before her death. All I got was that Ali really didn't want to go back to the mental hospital, which I knew in Book 8. This was book was like all of the flashbacks from the previous books combined with a POV change. The only mildly shocking thing was the ending. Reading the first few chapters and the last two chapters wouldn't have confused anyone. The middle of the book just dragged on for me and seemed never ending with the constant rehashing of Books 1-8. I was so relieved when it was finally time for her death. The main thing that really didn't work for me was the character Nick, whom Sara Shepard just threw it out of the blue and make it a bit of a focus. It turned out that this Nick person had nothing to do with the majority of the plot. I mean, we hadn't even heard of a character named Nick before, so that really didn't work. I made sure to go back and read through the previous books and make sure I didn't skip anything major. I'm fairly certain that we will never hear about this Nick person again. Did we even get a last name? A school? Even if Sara just threw Nick in, she could've made the effort to develop him a bit too. All I ever found out about him was that he met the real Ali at camp years ago, he likes paintball, and other superficial details. I didn't feel any chemistry between Nick and Ali so it was slightly painful to go through. Without the pointless Nick part, I would have enjoyed this book a bit more.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5The Pretty Little Liars Series is rapidly loosing steam. The past four books have been disappointing and each time I say I won't read the next volume but I've invested so much time I have to see this through to the end. This prequel was a good concept telling the story from Ali's POV but in the end it was all the information the reader is familiar with rehashed.
Book preview
Pretty Little Liars - Sara Shepard
1
THE PRINCESS OF ROSEWOOD DAY
Alison DiLaurentis strode down the hallway at Rosewood Day Middle School, her kitten heels clacking, her blond hair bouncing, and her plaid uniform skirt riding high on her thighs. The earth science teacher poked his head out his classroom door and raised his eyebrows. The overhead lights, which made everyone else look washed-out and pale, brought out the honey tones in Ali’s skin and the green flecks in her eyes. Her footsteps seemed to march in time with the school’s between classes
classical music. And as she rounded the corner toward the cafeteria, the crowds parted for her as they might a regal queen.
Which she sort of was.
It was springtime, almost at the end of her seventh-grade year, and Ali and her friends ate at the best table outside, a large, square four-top that had an excellent view of the baseball diamond. Emily Fields, Spencer Hastings, Aria Montgomery, and Hanna Marin were already seated and taking out their lunches: sushi rolls from the Fresh Fields counter and soft pretzels from the cafeteria.
Ali waved at them from the doorway. Spencer brightened. Hanna pulled an extra container of sushi rolls out of her bag and set it in Ali’s place. Emily gazed at Ali with a small, excited smile, perfunctorily brushing a few stray leaves off Ali’s favorite seat. Aria laid down her knitting and gave Ali a huge smile.
As Ali walked across the courtyard, everyone’s eyes were on her yet again. She could hear the admiring whispers and the appreciative whistles. Devon Arliss, who was in Ali’s history class, ran up to her as she passed and slipped her that afternoon’s homework, which she didn’t even have to ask Devon to do for her anymore. And Heather Rausch, whose sister worked at the Sephora in the mall, handed her a gift bag full of samples from the newest makeup line. You’re the only person besides the employees who gets to try these out,
Heather said proudly.
Thanks,
Ali said to Devon and Heather, shooting them aloof smiles. It felt like she was a VIP celebrity: She was so precious and desirable, you had to be on a waiting list just to get near her.
Ruling a school was, in a word, awesome. She had trends to launch (she’d single-handedly gotten everyone at Rosewood Day to wear lime-green nail polish this spring); people to cut down (planting that fake love note from Kirsten Cullen to Lucas Beattie was perfect revenge for when Kirsten had criticized her field hockey skills); parties to plan (the spring-summer season was the busiest); and girls to upstage. Including her very best friends.
She walked up to them at the table. Hey, bitches!
Her friends smiled brightly. Hey, bitch!
they all said in unison, though Emily looked embarrassed. Even the teachers barely flinched when they heard bitch in the halls, but Emily had practically been brought up Amish, and she was still cagey about swearing.
Ali pulled out the old Polaroid camera her father had given her and snapped a photo of them, the girls grinning happily. Even though Aria was the group’s official photographer/videographer, the Polaroid was Ali’s thing—she never went anywhere without it. At first, she’d carried it around so she wouldn’t forget certain details about her new life in case she got caught and sent to the Preserve. She wanted proof of the cute boys she was friends with and the sunniest spot on the patio where she and her friends sat for lunch every day. Now, taking regular pictures had become a habit.
So what’s up?
Ali asked as she lifted the lid of the sushi. Hanna had picked Ali’s favorite—spicy tuna roll with extra wasabi.
I saw Lara Fiori after gym,
Aria said. She was wearing the same Marc Jacobs sandals you had on last week. A total copycat.
Ali snorted. "Not it," she said, referring to the game she’d repurposed from her brother, Jason. It was the catchphrase she and her friends said about anyone unpopular or uncool.
Agreed.
Spencer fished something out of her bag and handed it to Ali. Kirsten Cullen gave me an invite to a party at her country club this weekend. Should I say yes for us?
Ali studied the invite, which was on creamy card stock. It looks perfect, Spence. Definitely.
Spencer looked pleased. We’ll have to shop for dresses, huh?
Ooh, Bloomie’s got a new shipment of DVFs in,
Hanna said excitedly. I called them obsessively all morning and had the salesgirl put some on hold for us.
Nice,
Ali said, holding her Vitaminwater bottle up to Hanna’s in a toast.
Emily leaned forward. Have you heard from Matt today?
Ali picked at her nails. Only a million times.
Matt Reynolds had been Ali’s boyfriend, but he moved to Virginia last week. He wanted to do the long-distance thing, but she wasn’t feeling it. Although he was the cutest boy in seventh grade, she’d never really been that into him. But as the cutest girl in seventh grade, it was only right that they dated.
I’m over him,
Ali went on. I’d rather hang out with you guys any day.
Her best friends of a year and a half blushed just as gratefully as they had the time Ali had recruited them to be her new clique. And Ali had a lot to thank them for, too. If they hadn’t been in her family’s backyard that day, right at that critical moment, things would be very different. Everyone at Rosewood had accepted Ali’s new group quickly, and the other girls’ popularity had skyrocketed. It was a win-win for everyone.
They’d had a lot of fun times. Like at her family’s mountain house in the Poconos. Or at the many parties they’d been invited to, holding court while all the other girls tried to impress them. Or that time last year when they’d skinny-dipped in Pecks Pond, the many sleepovers they’d had, the hundreds of hours of phone conversations and shopping trips and spa days. Ali had made these girls over. They’d gone from nothings to somethings, all because she was Alison DiLaurentis.
Of course, what they didn’t know was that she wasn’t Alison DiLaurentis. But Ali didn’t like to think about her past anymore. It was something she’d learned in group therapy a zillion years ago: If you think only positive thoughts, it will lead to a positive life. Her old existence as Courtney was gone.
She looked at Aria, who’d just picked up her knitting needles and a skein of pink mohair. Are you making another bra?
Aria nodded, then held up half of a C cup. You like?
Ali fingered the soft fabric. You could seriously sell these at Saks.
Then she looked at Spencer, who was penciling something into her day planner’s calendar. "God, Spence, you have the best handwriting."
Spencer brightened. Thanks!
Ali told Hanna the new sunglasses she’d bought from H&M were amazingly chic, and she tugged on Emily’s ponytail and said the boatneck T-shirt she was wearing really showed off her muscular shoulders. Paying the girls compliments felt good—not only because they complimented her back, but also because it drew them closer together. There was nothing in the world more powerful than a clique of girls who were honestly best friends—not just frenemies. It was something Ali had wished for all her life.
All the same, Ali couldn’t resist asserting that she was just slightly better than the rest of them. She pulled out her cell phone, looked at the screen, and mustered a laugh. Cassie sent me the funniest text earlier,
she said, referring to Cassie Buckley, a girl on the JV field hockey team with Ali. She’s so hilarious.
You’re still hanging out with her?
Emily sounded wounded. Field hockey’s been over for months.
We got pretty tight,
Ali said breezily. In fact, I’m hanging with Cassie and a few other girls from the team this afternoon.
There was a pregnant pause. Ali peeked at her friends, satisfied by their worried, intimidated expressions. She knew they wanted her to invite them along, but excluding them was the whole point. It wasn’t to be mean, exactly. It reminded her of what Spencer’s labradoodles, Rufus and Beatrice, did in the Hastingses’ backyard: They would play for a while, and then Rufus would climb on top of Beatrice and pin her down to remind her who was the alpha.
Hey,
Spencer said after a moment. We need to figure out what we’re doing for the end-of-seventh-grade sleepover. If you don’t already have plans that night, Ali.
Her tone was light, but she gave Ali a cautious look.
Please say you don’t have plans!
Emily said anxiously.
I wouldn’t miss our sleepover.
Ali looked at Spencer. What if we had it in your barn?
The Hastings family had an old barn in their backyard that they’d converted into a gorgeous apartment for Spencer’s older sister, Melissa. With its lofty ceilings, enormous closet, and marble bathroom complete with a soaking tub, it was the ultimate bachelorette pad.
Spencer twisted her mouth. Not unless we want Melissa playing truth or dare with us.
Ali rolled her eyes. Kick her out for the night! It would be perfect, don’t you think? We could set up sleeping bags in that big main room, watch movies on the flat-screen, maybe even invite some boys . . .
Her eyes sparkled.
Like Sean Ackard?
Hanna asked excitedly.
Noel Kahn?
Aria braved a smile.
Spencer picked at her nails. What if we had it in your backyard instead, Ali?
Ali made a face. Have you forgotten about the gazebo we’re building? My backyard is a disaster area.
Then she laid her head on Spencer’s shoulder. Please ask Melissa? I’ll be your best friend.
Spencer sighed, but Ali knew she was considering it. That was the power she had over all of them. They would do anything for her, even things they didn’t want to.
Just like she had done for her sister, all those years ago.
The bell rang, and everyone stood. Call us later?
Hanna asked Ali, and Ali nodded. Usually the girls did a five-way phone call at the end of the day to catch up on gossip.
Ali held her head high as she rounded the corner toward the gym, her next class period, the jealous gazes of her classmates like warm summer sun on her skin. But suddenly, something in the hall stopped her short. There was a new display in one of the cases, called ROSEWOOD DAY DRAMA CLUB: A LOOK BACK. In the center of a poster board was a picture of this year’s drama club after the performance of their play, Fiddler on the Roof—there was Spencer, who’d played a supporting role, right in the front. Fanning out in a sunburst pattern around that central photo were pictures of plays from even earlier. Ali spied a younger Spencer playing a tree in A Midsummer Night’s Dream. There was a picture of Mona Vanderwaal, her hair arranged in pigtails and her mouth full of braces, playing a cowgirl in Annie Get Your Gun. There was a younger Jenna Cavanaugh, singing a solo, her lips naturally pink, her hazel eyes wide, seeing everything.
And right next to that, delivering a line to eye-patch-wearing Noel Kahn, was her own face. Except this was a play before sixth grade. Before Courtney had become Ali, and Ali had become Courtney. If you really concentrated, the differences between the two girls were obvious. Her sister’s eyes were wider and a little bluer. She stood straighter, and her ears didn’t stick out as much. But not a single person had ever noticed those differences—people rarely paid attention to details.
Ali thought about the Preserve at Addison-Stevens. She’d visited a few times, and it was even worse than the rumors. The patient ward had peeling blue walls, dark corridors, and bars on the windows. Kids shuffled through the halls despondently, some of them muttering, others screaming, most twitching. Her sister was one of them now. She’d been insisting she was Alison DiLaurentis for over a year, working herself into a lather. It was a beautiful catch-22: The more the real Ali insisted she’d been unjustly imprisoned at the Preserve, the more ammunition that gave the staff to keep her there. They had her on so many meds she was drooling most of the time.
Ali glanced over her shoulder, suddenly getting the queasy sensation that someone was watching her. That feeling struck her now and then, though mostly she just chalked it up to being stressed about graduating.
She turned back to the photo. It felt dangerous, somehow. Ali could never, ever let anyone find out her secret; she wasn’t going to the Preserve as long as she lived. She twisted open the latch of the display case, stuck her hand inside, grabbed the picture of pretty, fifth-grade Alison, and slipped it into her bag. She would burn it when she got home tonight.
Out of sight, out of mind. Just like she used to be.
2
SMOKE GETS IN YOUR EYES
Later that afternoon, Ali sat in Cassie Buckley’s Jeep, in Cassie’s driveway. Cassie had just gotten her driver’s license, and she loved giving the girls rides home. They faced Cassie’s rickety Victorian house, where they and a few other girls on the field hockey team had been hanging out after school. The place had a wraparound porch, stained-glass windows, and a chicken-shaped weathervane on the roof. To the right was Cassie’s long and narrow side yard, which contained a garden that needed weeding, a stone wall that separated it from the neighbors, and an old claw-foot bathtub that wasn’t out of place here in funky Old Hollis. Ali actually preferred Hollis’s shabby-chic vibe to Rosewood’s uberfussy perfection, but, as it didn’t seem like an opinion Alison DiLaurentis would have, she never let on.
After she finished checking her mirrors, Cassie turned the key in the ignition. "I hope we pass some hot seniors on the