Author's Note—

This fan fiction does have spoilers from the last book in the Pretty Little Liar series—so be warned! There will be four main characters in the series, just like the original series. Only the new characters belong to me, the original Pretty Little Liars and story belong to Sara Shepard. Enjoy!

Chapter One-Rhia

Rhia Fields hadn't drunk a drop of alcohol since the accident, but it sure as hell felt like she was hung over now.

The seventeen year old slowly got up from her fetal position on her bed. Damn period. Screw Mother Nature and all those commercials that told females to "Have a happy period!" The day Rhia had a happy period, hell would freeze over.

Rhia tucked a strand of strawberry blond hair behind her ear and groaned, as she pressed the lukewarm heating pad closer to herself. She closed her eyes and walked slowly down the hall, from her bedroom to the small kitchen. The bottle of Motrin was right on the counter. All Rhia had to do was take a few more and pop the heating pad back in the microwave, and she would be good to go.

The light on the answering machine was blinking, but Rhia didn't bother to check it. It was probably only her mother Emily, checking in on her. It wasn't like Rhia would be up to anything on a Saturday afternoon anyway.

Rhia considered herself to be straight edged. She never took drugs, or did heavy drinking, and she wasn't even sexually active. In other words, Rhia was as boring as they came.

But Rhia was okay with that, and so was her mother. Rhia knew Emily did a lot to provide for her family—she worked two jobs to make sure they could keep their middle class house. Granted, it was only a small ranch house, located a few miles outside of Rosewood, but at least they had a roof over their head. It was more than they did a few years ago, anyway.

Rhia took two Motrin, chugging down the water fast. She removed the heating pad from her gray sweatpants and placed it in the microwave, setting it for two minutes. She reached for a half-empty glass of milk on the counter and leaned back, drinking slowly.

Emily Fields was as laidback as they came. She owned her own business, a small candle and gift shop that had opened in downtown Rosewood a few years ago. She was also Treasurer for the Rosewood Chamber of Commerce and did a few Accounting jobs on the side, sometimes going out to Philly. Rhia knew she was lucky that Emily could juggle her life and career so well without losing it—Gillian Campbell's mother, Spencer, was still famously known for the professional meltdown she had two summers ago.

That was reason number one behind the close relationship between Rhia and her mother. Rhia knew if she ever came home hungover, or Heaven forbid, pregnant, Emily would just smile and tell Rhia things would be okay. There would be no yelling, Rhia wouldn't have to worry about being kicked out of the house.

The Motrin was already kicking in. Rhia smiled to herself, and then looked up at the clock. It was already close to 1PM. She could take it easy today. She had finished up all of her homework already, so maybe she could get the mail, catch up on some TiVo. Satisfied with her plan, she grabbed the mailbox key from the foyer-she looked down briefly at her sweats, then kept walking. There was no use changing, it wasn't like she was going to be running into anyone at all.

Rhia reached the mailbox quickly, her fingers sliding over the lock. She pulled the mail out and flipped through it absently mindedly as she headed back for the house. Mostly junk mail and a few bills, though there was the new issue of Allure . Rhia looked up, feeling the warm September sun on her cheeks. She could sit outside maybe, flip through the magazine, and be home when Emily pulled into the driveway.

Rhia turned toward her left side, the nose of a car approaching his ears. She shuffled off toward the side of the road, the mailbox key jangling with her steps.

The car pulled up closer to Rhia and she panicked for a moment, thinking about the accident. But the driver rolled down the window, and peered out.

"Do you know if the Fields live here?"

The driver was pretty, around Emily's age. She had tight black curls and Rhia noticed her eyes had flecks of gold in them—like cat eyes.

"Yea. I'm Rhia Fields, actually."

The woman's eyes widened, the flecks of gold appearing larger. "Oh my God. Rhia… You look just like your mother."

Rhia just nodded politely —everyone said that.

"I'm Maya St. Germain." The woman stopped the car and glanced out again at Rhia, who was starting to feel nervous for some reason. "Is your mom home?"

Rhia shook her head lightly. "No. She's at work today. Won't be back until after dinner."

Maya sighed, pulled out a BlackBerry and checked the time. "I have to get going—pick up my daughter. Would you mind telling her I said hello, and I'll stop by later? We're old high school friends."

"Oh." That explained things, a little bit at least. Emily never talked about her life before Rhia and Rhia knew not to ask. It was like those old swim trophies stuffed in the back of Emily's closet. Rhia knew the story of why Emily never went to Arizona State on a swim scholarship, the reason why Emily never swam after high school. She told her daughter she tore a shoulder muscle screwing off during swim practice late one night and even though Emily never held her shoulder gingerly like an old injury, there was no way in hell Rhia would get the real story out of her mother.

"Yeah. I'll tell her."

Maya smiled at Rhia and waved goodbye with her left hand, as she pulled away. Rhia noticed she wasn't wearing a ring.

Rhia spent the rest of the day watching TV and flipping through her magazines. She tried hard not to think about Maya, or her relationship with her mother. She told herself not to think about it, that there was a reason why her mother never told her about her high school life.

"I'm home."

It was already a quarter to six by the time Emily came home. Rhia got up slowly from her spot on the sofa and helped her mom with the containers of Chinese takeout she was holding in her hand. Emily sighed and kicked off her heels, before heading into the kitchen for plates.

"Thanks, babe. You doing okay?"

Emily nodded. "Yeah. I slept in, feel a ton better."

"Anything going on?" Emily asked, once Mother and Daughter had sat down, and taken a few bites of their food. Rhia chew on her soft noodles for a minute, before speaking.

"No. A woman named Maya drove by though, when I went to get the mail. She said she was an old high school friend of yours? She wanted to say hi. And she also said she would be by later."

Emily's face flushed, and those splotchy cheeks appeared under her face. Rhia felt her stomach flip. The only time her mother looked that ghostly was when Rhia's grandparents used to call. But now they had retired to some Midwest state, and only sent birthday and Christmas cards. They never called, and if Emily had any siblings, she sure didn't keep in touch with them.

"Ok." Emily stood up suddenly, tossing the plate into the sink. Rhia stared as her mother walked away, quickly shuffling off toward her room.

Rhia sat there and ate the rest of her food in silence. It had been ten, maybe fifteen minutes since her mom had left the room, but she hadn't come out yet. Rhia was right—there was something about that Maya woman that Emily didn't want to talk about.

Rhia signed and put her plate in the sink. She had started to gather up the leftovers to put in the fridge, when the phone rang.

"You got it, Mom?" Rhia asked. But there was dead silence coming from her mom's room. With a sigh, Rhia closed the fridge doors and walked over to the phone, just as the machine picked up.

"You've reached Emily and Rhia Fields. Leave us a message," Rhia's breezy voice came over the line. The sound of the dial tone greeted Rhia's ears, but there was something else. She leaned over the phone and listened closely.

But whatever it was disappeared. Rhia looked at the caller ID and scrunched up her eyebrows in confusion, before walking back to her room.

There was only one letter that showed up under the "Unavailable" phone number—the letter A.