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Ali's Pretty Little Lies

Pretty Little Liars 0. 5

by Sara Shepard

SWITCHEROO

Once upon a time, there were two identical twin sisters, Alison and Courtney. They were alike in every way: Both had long, blond hair; huge, clear, round blue eyes; heart-shaped faces; and winning smiles that melted hearts. When they were six, they rode matching purple bikes up and down their family’s driveway in Stamford, Connecticut, singing “Frère Jacques” in a round. When they were seven, they climbed up the big-kid sliding board together and held hands the whole way. Even though their parents gave each of them her own bedroom with her own canopied princess bed, they were often found sleeping on the same twin mattress, their bodies entwined. Everyone said they shared that indescribable twin connection. They made promises to be best friends forever.

But promises are broken every day.

In second grade, things started to change. They were little things at first—a dirty look, a slight shove, an indignant sigh. Then Courtney showed up in Ali’s Saturday art class insisting she was Ali. Courtney sat at Ali’s desk in school on a day her sister was sick. Courtney introduced herself as Ali to the UPS man, the new neighbors with the puppy, and the old lady at the pharmacy counter. Maybe she pretended she was her sister because Ali had a little extra sparkle, a certain something that got her noticed. Maybe Courtney was jealous. Or maybe Courtney was forced. Ali made me do it, Courtney told her parents when she was caught. She said if I didn’t pretend to be her for the day, something awful would happen to me and you and all of us. But when their mom and dad asked Ali if this was true, her eyes grew wide. I would never say something like that, she answered innocently. I love my sister, and I love you guys.

Suddenly, Courtney and Ali were getting into screaming matches on the playground. Then Courtney shut Ali into a bathroom stall at lunchtime and didn’t let her out. Teachers called the girls’ parents, their voices full of concern. Neighbors pulled their children close when they passed Courtney, worried she might hurt them, too. The final straw came that flawless spring day when the girls’ parents found Courtney sitting on top of her sister, her hands around Ali’s throat. Doctors were called. Psychiatric evaluations were performed on both girls. Ali handled it with poise, but Courtney panicked. She started it, she insisted. She threatens me. She wants me gone.

Paranoid schizophrenia, the doctors said in grave tones. That sort of thing could be treatable, but only with a lot of care. It was up to Ali to make the final decision, though— and, tearfully, she decided that her sister should go. And so a facility was found. Off Courtney went, away from her family, away from everything she knew. Her parents reassured her that they would bring her home as soon as she was better, but weeks passed, and then months. Suddenly, Courtney was sort of .  .  . forgotten.