Cursed, A Pretty Little Liars Novel

2: Harvard Isn't For Slackers

Spencer Hastings stepped into the Boston train station. Tonight, she was attending the newcomers opening dinner. They were giving an opening speech, and a tour of the campus. She was staying at The Hilton until the new school year started, in two days.
Spencer exited the airport, and flagged down a taxi.
"The Hilton on 46th and Landcastner avenue," Spencer told the driver.
She glanced down at her Motorola. It was 12:30. Once she got to the hotel, she would grab lunch and then get ready for the dinner tonight. The number one rule in the Hastings household was always make a good first impression. Unfortunately, Spencer had only earned half of her freshman credits in high school, with A constantly getting in the way.
The cab driver stopped in front of the hotel, and got Spencer's luggage out of the trunk. She picked up her Prada handbag, and got out of the car.
"Here you go, mam," the driver said, taking her black suitcase out of the trunk. Spencer walked inside, her black, pointy heels tapping on the shiny, glass floor.
"Spencer Hastings," she said at the front desk. The woman typed her name into the computer- she had pre booked her room- and gave her the room card.
"Your room is number 207," she said in an Australian accent. "It's up the stairs and the second door to the right."
"Thank you," Spencer said. She felt like an adult, serious and important, and not like a silly teenager.
Spencer slid her card into the little slot next to the door. The light turned green, and she stepped in. Spencer set her suitcase down in front of the closet. She looked around the room. Nice. To her left, was a queen sized bed, to her right, a bathroom. There was also a mini fridge wedged into the corner, a microwave sitting on top of it. Near the windows, was a desk.
Spencer opened the container of pasta she'd bought at the cafeteria downstairs, and started to unpack. On the left side, she hung up the tops, color coordinated. In the center were the bottoms, and to the right, the dresses. Just because she was only staying here for two days, didn't mean she couldn't be neat.
Spencer turned on the TV. It automatically went to the news.
"Homeopathic Killer on the Loose," the headline at the bottom read. For once in her life, Spencer could actually watch the news without seeing herself on it.
There was a knock on her door. Spencer stiffened, thinking it was A. Then, she remembered, she no longer had to worry about A.
Instead, there a hot boy in the Hilton uniform. "Just wanted to make sure you're okay with the room," he said.
"It's perfect," Spencer said. She could see him beaming.
"Well, I hope I'll see you around," he said, smiling flirtatiously.
"Um, you too," Spencer said, her heart fluttering. He really was a hottie. And she liked him. She saw him turn down the hall, and shut the door. Now, she had work to do.
First, Spencer chose her outfit. The outfit had to give her a classic look. Make her look like a hard worker. After trying many combinations, Spencer finally settled on a black, flowing Calvin and Klein dress. She paired it with a white Ralph Lauren shrug, and black pumps. The look screamed I'm-smart-and-preppy-but-not-a-snob.
Then, it was time for hair. Spencer brushed her hair to the max, and then straightened her blonde curls. She considered adding a hairpiece, but went against it.
For makeup, she wore a little black eyeliner, nude eyeshadow, salmon colored lipstick, and some light pink blush. And of course, foundation and mascara.
She looked amazing. Now, there was no way she would look out of place. This was Harvard, not some community college where all the poor people and no good slackers went. From here on out, she wouldn't have to deal with boys making dumb jokes, or things like that.
Spencer called, and arranged for a cab to pick her up at 6:15; the dinner started at seven. Then, she sat on the bed, watching the newscaster tell a story about a factory that had blown up. They were showing a reporter talking at the scene, and there was a crowd of people in the background. A face caught Spencer's eye. A heart shaped face, with a blonde wig, and bow shaped lips. It could only be Alison. But, Courtney was dead, and Alison was locked up. Had she escaped? No. That story would have been all over the news. She would have heard something about it.
Spencer looked up again, but they had moved past, showing footage of the factory. Spencer shook her head. She was probably just imagining things.
Spencer stepped out of the taxi. She walked into the entrance to the main building.
"Hi, I'm here for the newcomers dinner," Spencer said to the girl at the desk. She looked about 25, and had her hair up in curly blonde ringlets. She looked like she could be a relative of Ali's, a cousin maybe? But then again, so did every blonde, pretty girl Spencer saw.
"Your name please?" The girl asked.
"Spencer Hastings," Spencer answered.
"Here's your official card," the girl said, handing Spencer a credit card type card that read "Harvard. Spencer Hastings."
"And you'll be seated at table seven," she said. "The banquet hall's through those doors, and the first one on the left."
"Thank you," Spencer answered, walking to the double doors. She entered the first door to the left. The banquet hall was beautiful. There were tables with cream colored tablecloths, and number place cards in the center of each one. To the right, there was a table filled with food. Spencer smelled smoked salmon. There were people milling around, chatting amongst each other. Spencer found table seven, and plopped her purse down on a vacant chair. She didn't recognize anyone there.
"Aren't you that Pretty Little Liars girl?"
People started staring at Spencer, recognition showing on their faces. The girl who had spoken looked like a real slut. She wore a skirt that barely went down to her knees, and strapless pink top. She had white white skin, and her black hair was pulled back with a butterfly pin.
"You know, Harvard isn't for slackers, it's for smart people. Slut," Spencer smirked.
"Um, excuse me? The name's Sutton, Spencer Hastings!"
"Well, how'd you even get in?" Spencer shot back. "You're dressed like you're starring in Sex In The City."
Sutton looked like she was about to say something, but luckily, the speakers chose that moment to walk in.
"Everyone, please be seated," said the blonde woman, the same one who'd checked Spencer in.
She walked to table seven, just before Sutton plopped down there.
"Oh great I'm stuck a table with you," she said, snottily.
"Like it was my choice," Spencer shot back.
She was well dressed for this; all the other students wore clothes like her. Sutton, on the other hand, was exposing as much as possible.
Well, Spencer thought. Hopefully, Harvard would realize how much of a slut Sutton was, and ban her from school grounds. Because, there was one thing for sure. Harvard was no place for slackers.
"Ahem, everybody," the blonde girl was at the microphone. "My name is Natalie, and I will be giving the first speech."
Spencer faced forward, thinking about her bright future. She forgot everything else, and for a second, she even forgot about Sutton.