if memory serves . . .

what if , all of a sudden, you could remember every single second of your entire life ? And not just the major events everyone remembers- little things, too. Like that you and your best friend first bonded over hating the smell of rubber cement in third-grade art class. Or that the very first time you saw your 8th grade crush, he was walking through the school courtyard, palming a soccer ball in one hand and an iPod touch in the other.

But with every blessing comes a curse. With your spanking-new flawless memory, you'd also have to remember every fight with your BFF. You'd relieve each time your soccer-loving crush sat next to someone else at lunch. With 20/20 memory, the past cold suddenly get a whole lot uglier. Someone who seems like an ally now? Look again-could be they weren't as nice as you thought. a friend you remember as always having your back ? Oops! On closer inspection,not so much.

If four pretty girls in Rosewood were suddenly given perfect memories, they might know better who to trust and who to stay away from. Then again, maybe their pasts would make even less sense than before.

Memory's a fickle thing. And sometimes we're doomed to repeat the things we've forgotten.

There it was. The big Victorian house at the corner of the cul-de-sac, the one with the rose trellises along the fence and the Tiered teak Deck in the back. Only a select few had ever been inside, but everyone knew who lived there. She was the most popular girl in school. A girl who set trends, inspired passionate crushes,and made or broke reputations. A girl who every guy wanted to date and every girl wanted to be.

Alison DiLaurentis, of course.

It was a peaceful early September Saturday morning is Rosewood,Pennsylvania, an idyllic main line town about twenty miles from Philadelphia. Mr Cavanaugh, who lived across the street from Alison's Family, strolled out to his yard to get the newspaper. The Tawny golden retriever that belonged to the Vanderwaals a few doors down loped around the fenced-in backyard, barking at squirrels. Not a flower or a leaf was out of place . . . except for the four 6th grade girls who all happened to be stealthily creeping into the DiLaurentises' backyard the same time.

Emily Fields hid among the tall tomato plants, tugging nervously on the strings for her Rosewood long course swimming sweatshirt. She'd never trespassed on anyone's property, let alone the backyard of the prettiest, most popular girl in school. Aria Montgomery ducked behind an oak tree, picking at the embroidery on the tunic her dad had brought her back from yet another last-minute art History conference in Germany. Hanna Marin abandoned her bike by a boulder near the family's shed, devising her plan of attack. Spencer Hastings crossed from her neighboring backyard and crouched behind a carefully pruned raspberry bush, inhaling the berries ' slightly sweet, slightly tangy smell.

Quietly, each girl realized they weren't alone at exactly the same moment. Spencer noticed Emily fumbling by the woods. Emily spied Hanna squatting by the rock. Hanna glimpsed Aria behind the tree. Everyone marched to the center of Ali's backyard and gathered in a tight circle.

:"What are you guys doing here ?" Spencer demanded.

she'd known Emily , Hanna, and Aria since the Rosewood public library first-grade reading contest-Spencer had won, but all of them had participated. They weren't friends. Emily was the type of girl who blushed when a teacher called on her name in class. Hanna , who was now tugging at the waistband of her slightly too-small black paper Denim jeans, never seemed comfortable with herself. And Aria- well, it looked like Aria was wearing lederhosen to say . Spencer was pretty sure Aria's only friends were imaginary.

"Uh, nothing," Hanna shot Back.

"yeah, nothin," Aria said , looking suspiciously at all of them . Emily shrugged.

"What are you doing ?" Hanna asked Spencer.

Spencer sighed. It was obvious they were here for the same reason. Two afternoons ago , Rosewood Day , the elite prep school they attended , had announced the kick-off of its much-anticipated Time Capsule game. Each year, Principal Appleton cut a bright blue Rosewood Day flag into many pieces, upperclassmen hid them around town, and the teachers posted scavenger hunt-style clues to the whereabouts of each piece in the upper- and lower-school lobbies. Whoever found a piece got to decorate it however her or she wanted, and once every piece was found, ...

TO BE CONTINUED ...

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