Previously on Pretty Little Liars: After her official release from Radley Institute for Criminal Masterminds, Mona Vanderwaal put to use that sack of good-girl cardigans she’d been storing in her lair for a rainy day and set about reforming her image. Step 1: Spring cleaning (“Rid locker of all spare body parts not used in last six months.”) Step 2: It Gets Better video (“Sad beagle eyes, tears, middle school, etc.”) Step 3: Blow up a teacher (“Blow up a teacher.”) The Liars discovered that Lost Woods Harold was working at Rosewood High as a janitor/hoarder of A stuff, so they concocted an elaborate office-raiding plan that included running half of a half-marathon and hacking into Fort Fields’ forcefield via iPhone. For their efforts, they received confirmation that Byron Montgomery is, indeed, a monster, and also they received another near death-blow to their Pretty Little Heads.
Aria is enjoying a quiet evening at home, watching Night Must Fall, a film adaptation of an Emlyn Williams play about these four women who get duped by this fully insane guy who is, like, super hot and uncommonly charming, but also he is murdering women and chopping them up and burying their body parts around town. The master sleuth of the women, the real Ravenclaw of the bunch, she starts out accusing the guy of being a murderer, but then she falls in love with him, and next thing you know, the police are like, “Hey, why’s there a severed head in this hat box, insane hot guy?” And the smart girl, the Ravenclaw one, she’s like, “It’s my hat box! It’s my severed head!”
So, expect good things for Spencer in the coming days, is what I am saying.
Byron walks in, picks up the remote, mutes the TV — without even asking, he does that shit — and tries to have a chat with Aria. He’s like, “Hey, remember last week when I accused you of trying to blow up my girlfriend? Well, it turns out the police caught the person who actually tried to do that, and it wasn’t you.” Aria glowers at him, because first of all, that is a terrible apology, and also: “It’s been three years since I blew up anybody, Dad, and she’s got her vision back now anyway, so it barely even counts.” Well, so Byron just goes ahead and spoils the ending of the movie for Aria, because at this point he’s just inventing ways to suck.
Spencer, Hanna, and Emily, who is apparently free again to roam about the town at the witching hour at her leisure, break into the school to rifle through Harold’s stuff some more. They sneak into the basement, pick the lock with ease this time, but two steps into the office Spencer smells fear, so she’s like, “Who’s in here? Reveal yourself!” It’s an A, and as it makes a getaway, Hanna peeps its shoes. They are the shoes of a nerd. They are the shoes of a Lucas.
After the A scare, they return to snooping, but the only thing left in Harold’s office is a fake Ali-journal into which A has penned the message: “So this is what it’s like when sloths attack? Better luck next time, slowest animals known to man! – A.” Spencer smirks, all: “Actually, snails are the slowest animals known to man. Sloths are the slowest mammals known to man. God, I wish I could go brain-to-brain with A in a game of winner-takes-all trivia. I would destroy her.”
Rear Window Brew. The Liars aren’t sleeping. Aria has been dreaming about Ezra, duh. Hanna has been dreaming about losing her hair to a wad of rogue gum. Spencer has been dreaming about God only knows what. She’s on a pilgrimage to the Fount of Knowledge when an eagle swoops down and scoops her up in its talons, and then the eagle is Noel Kahn, and Noel Kahn is grinning, and then the grin is Jenna’s, and now she’s not wearing any clothes, and the eagle’s nest is a cozy cabin in the woods, and Jenna is saying, “You’re smarter than me, you’re smarter than everyone,” and they’re in a hot tub now and a twig snaps and it’s Toby creeping around in the woods and he’s like, “Your hot tub is too good for me, but it’s not too good for my sister?!” Jenna’s boobs are a trophy, a trophy is covered in rat’s blood, blood is all over Emily’s time-traveling jacket, a black jacket with a black hood, a hooded figure who walks like Toby and talks like Toby and builds rocking chairs. “You’re A,” dream-Spencer says. “You’re A!” Dream-Toby takes off the black hoodie and underneath are his acres of abs. “What did you call me?” he asks. But dream-Spencer cannot remember.
Mona eavesdrops until she’s satisfied she’s got the flow of the conversation, and then: “Night terrors? Tell me about it, you guys. I haven’t slept well since I: ran over Hanna with my car, tried to throw Spencer off a cliff, afflicted Emily with an ulcer, and — I forget, Aria, did I do anything to you at all ever? Anyway, how weird was it that the guy who owned the motel where I built a shrine to your dead best friend and laid the plans for your destruction got a job at our school? I think he was stalking me.” The Liars cannot believe her gall. She shrugs. They’ll come around or she’ll start murdering them all over again. What will be will be.