A flashback at the beginning of the story of the day before the infamous sleepover sets you on edge and I love it. A good psychopathic thriller is just the sort of reading material I should be reading instead of getting a head start on The Aeneid for Fall Semester.
Oh Aria my favorite pretty lair you just don't quit do you. Admiral as it is darling, do you honestly figure spence as the killer? She's something alright with her flip-flop wish-y/wash-y boggled mind playing constant streams of trickery on her A barely has to do anything but shove her off that balance scale of hers. And dear Lord Emily what planet have you landed on? Any moment I expect the shinning to take over her life. I mean really the chickens donate upset with screaming, well perhaps goats oughtn't barrel towards people and the said people might not have a reason upset livestock. Great now I'm talking like I've stepped out of some Hollywood made up Wild West movie. Until just as the chainsaw start to blare Miss Country-bumpkin of a cousin steps in to--fingers crossed--liven Iowa up a bit. Partying in a silo? So not the Gala I was expecting then again her cow of a cousin turning Ems into her uncle and aunt wasn't expected neither.
Spence you poor demented bunny rabbit, are always one tiniest bit of a step behind aren't you? Then again parental stability does count for everything theses days. Her parents allowing Spencer to go ahead with competing with forged essay for Golden Orchid--a prize she scarcely wanted as it was, what with it having to do with horrid Econ--must suck up all the limelight she can before something breaks.
Hanna Marin of all the Rosewood dollface's you've got to be the one with a memory lapse. Seriously selfish. ;-) We were as it was just about to find out who A was, riveting oh yes it was. Don't worry though that fickle mistress of a memory floods back eventually leaving my little cub scouts scrambling to protect a fellow Lair in grave danger.