It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell on Liars — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept it up the streets (for it is in Rosewood that our scene lies), pinging against library windows, and fiercely agitating the foul ghost of Lady Alison as she materialized in the darkness.
The Ladies Hanna, Spencer and Aria sat huddled over SAT preparation books, quizzing one another about five-dollar vocabulary words and boys. “Rosewood High is to Spencer Hastings as Hogwarts is to …?” Lady Aria asked. Lady Spencer’s hand shot into the air in response, a perfect imitation of that hallowed name she gave as an answer: “Hermione Granger!” Breathlessly she awaited conformation of her accuracy, and Lady Aria did not withhold her praise. Gently, she patted Lady Spencer’s head, allowing her to nibble a Scooby Snack straight from her hand.
Dame Hastings, Lady Spencer’s mother, presented herself in the kitchen, making a most prodigious declaration: “Today, I will be playing the role of Claire Huxtable, with fifty percent less fierceness.”
You must know, gentle Reader, that the qualifying clause is what shall save Dame Hastings in the end. To juxtapose one’s self against Claire Huxtable without a proper understanding of her insurmountable awesomeness is to sign one’s own Avada Kedavra certificate.
Across town, a lithe figure took shelter against the brutal torrents of rain. Covered from noggin to Nike in mud, the Lady Emily scanned her chambers nervously in the night, expecting to be greeted by the sneer of Detective Severus Snape, no doubt; or by the ethereal apotheosis of her former lady love. Met with neither, the Lady Emily, took off the one pair of shoes she owned — for in Rosewood, the law prohibits anyone from owning multiple pairs of footwear — and disrobed completely, though the camera forgot to show that part.
Four friends had a secret; can they keep it? Swear, this one they’ll save! It’s a Wocket in their pocket, on this rainy testing day.
The consecrated halls of Rosewood High found themselves transformed into an appalling dump heap, overflowing with the most disgraceful assortment of rubbish imaginable: public school kids, cloaked in burlap sacks, eating lunches out of paper sacks. Among them was Lady Spencer’s boyfriend, the peasant Alex. But lo, his condemnation to the proletariat did not keep him from getting handsy with the Lady in front of her fellow Ladies. Nor did Spencer’s proper upbringing summon forth any decorum.