Hanna pushed her way through crowds of kids, hoping to see Emily's familiar reddish-blond hair. She found Spencer and Aria by the oversize windows, talking to Gemma Curran, one of Emily's swimming teammates.
"She was here with that guy from Tate, right?" Gemma pursed her lips and tried to think. "I'm pretty sure I saw them leave."
Hanna exchanged glances with her friends. "What are we going to do?" Spencer whispered. "It's not like we have any idea where they're going."
"I tried calling her," Aria said. "But her phone just kept ringing."
"Oh my God," Spencer said, her eyes filling up with tears.
"Well, what did you expect?" Aria said through her teeth. "You're the one who let this happen." Hanna couldn't remember Aria ever being this angry.
"I know," Spencer repeated. "I'm sorry."
A huge boom interrupted them. Everyone looked outside to see the trees blowing sideways and rain coming down in sheets. "Shit," Hanna heard a girl say next to her. "My dress is going to be ruined."
Hanna faced her friends. "I know someone who can help us. A cop." She looked around, half-expecting Officer Wilden, the guy who'd arrested Hanna for stealing a Tiffany bracelet and Mr. Ackard's car and who'd gotten it on with her mom—to be at Foxy tonight. But the guys guarding the exits and the jewelry auction were the Foxhunting League's private security team—only if something devastating happened would they call in the cops. Last year, a Rosewood Day senior drank too much and ran off with a David Yurman bracelet that was up for auction, and even they'd only left a tactful message on the boy's family's voice mail, saying that they'd like it back by the next day.
"We can't go to the cops," Spencer hissed. "The way the one cop was acting with me this morning, I wouldn't be surprised if they thought we killed Ali."
Hanna stared up at the giant crystal chandelier on the ceiling. A couple kids were tossing their napkins at it, trying to get the crystals to swing. "But I mean, your note pretty much says, I'm gonna hurt you, right? Isn't that enough?"
"It's signed A. And it said that we hurt him. How would we explain that?"
"But how do we make sure she's all right?" Aria asked, pulling up her polka-dotted dress. Hanna noted bitterly that the side zipper was still partially down.
"Maybe we should drive by her house," Spencer suggested.
"Sean and I could go right now," Aria volunteered.
Hanna's jaw dropped. "You're telling Sean about this?"
"No," Aria shouted, over the swells of Natasha Bedingfield and the pounding rain. Hanna could even see it fogging up the hall's skylight, thirty feet above their heads. "I won't tell him anything. Or I don't know how I'll explain it. But he won't know."
"So are you and Sean going to any after-parties?" Hanna pried.
Aria looked at her crazily. "You think I'd go to an after-party after all this?"
"Yeah, but if this hadn't happened, would you have gone?"
"Hanna." Spencer put her cool, thin hand on Hanna's shoulder. "Let it go."
Hanna gritted her teeth, grabbed a glass of champagne from a waitress's tray, and belted it down. She couldn't let it go. It wasn't possible.
"You check out Emily's house," Spencer said to Aria. "I'll keep calling her."
"What if we drive by Emily's and Toby is with her?" Aria asked. "Do we confront him? I mean...if he is A...?"
Hanna exchanged an uneasy glance with the others. She wanted to kick Toby's ass—how had he found out about Kate? Her father? Her arrests? How Sean had broken up with her and that she made herself puke? How dare he try to bring her down! But she was also afraid. If Toby was A—if he knew—then he really would want to hurt them. It made...sense.
"We should just concentrate on making sure Emily's safe," Spencer said. "How about, if we don't hear from her soon, we call the police and leave an anonymous tip. We could say we saw Toby hurt her. We wouldn't have to get into the specifics."
"If The cops come looking for him, he'll know it was us," Hanna reasoned. "And then what if he tells them about Jenna?" She could picture herself in juvenile hall, wearing an orange jumpsuit and talking to her father through a wall of glass.
"Or what if he comes after us?" Aria asked.
"We'll have to find her before that happens," Spencer interrupted.
Hanna looked at the clock. Ten-thirty. "I'm out." She strode toward the door. "I'll call you, Spencer." She didn't say anything to Aria. She couldn't even look at Aria. Or the giant hickey on her neck.
As she was leaving, Naomi Zeigler grabbed her hand. "Han, about what you said to me yesterday at the soccer game." She had the large-eyed, empathetic look of a talk-show host. "There are bulimia support groups. I could help you find one."
"Fuck off," Hanna said, and brushed past her.
By the time Hanna collapsed on the Philadelphia-bound SEPTA train, totally soaked from running from the cab to the train, her head felt heavy. In every reflection, a shadowy chimera of her seventh-grade self winked back. She shut her eyes.
When she opened her eyes again, the train had stalled. All the lights were out, except for the emergency glow-in-the-dark exit signs. Only, they didn't say Exit anymore. They said Watch It.
To her left, Hanna saw miles of forest. The moon shone full and clear over the treetops. But hadn't it been pouring just minutes ago? The train paralleled Route 30 on the other side. The road was usually packed with traffic, but now, not a single car waited at the intersection. As she craned her neck down the aisle to see how the others were reacting to SEPTA's breakdown, she noticed that all the passengers were asleep.
"They're not asleep," a voice said. "They're dead."
Hanna jumped. It was Toby. His face was blurry, but she knew it was him. Slowly, he rose from his seat and walked over to her.
The train blew its whistle, and Hanna was jolted awake. The fluorescent lights were as bright and unflattering as ever; the train chugged toward the city; and outside, lightning crackled and danced. When she looked out the window, she saw a tree branch snap off and careen to the ground. Two white-haired old ladies in the seat ahead of her kept commenting on the lightning, saying, "Oh, goodness! That was a big one!"
Hanna pulled her knees up to her chest. Nothing like an earth-shattering confession about Toby Cavanaugh to rock your world. And make you paranoid as hell.
She wasn't sure how to take the news. She didn't react to things right away, like Aria did; she had to mull them over. She was angry at Spencer for not telling, yes. And terrified about Toby. But at the moment, her only overwhelming thoughts were about Jenna. Did she know, too? Had she known all along? Did she know that Toby had killed Ali?
Hanna had actually seen Jenna after her accident—just once, and she'd never told the others. It was just a few weeks before Ali went missing, and she'd thrown an impromptu party in her backyard. All of Rosewood Day's popular kids came—even some older girls from Ali's field hockey team. For the first time ever, Hanna was having a real conversation with Sean; they were talking about the movie Gladiator. Hanna was talking about how scary the movie was when Ali sauntered up beside them.
At first Ali gave Hanna a look that said, Hooray! You're finally talking to him! But then, when Hanna said, "When my dad and I came out of the theater, oh my God, I was so scared, I went straight to the bathroom and threw up," Ali nudged Hanna's side. "You've had some trouble with that lately, haven't you?" she joked.
Hanna paled. "What?" This wasn't long after the Annapolis thing happened.
Ali made sure she had Sean's attention. "This is Hanna," she said, and stuck her finger down her throat, gagged, and then giggled. Sean didn't laugh, however; he looked back and forth at them, seeming uncomfortable and confused. "I, um, have to..." he muttered and slipped away to his friends.
Hanna turned to Ali, horrified. "Why did you do that?"
"Oh, Hanna," Ali said, whirling away. "Can't you take a joke?"
But Hanna couldn't. Not about that. She stomped to the other side of Ali's wraparound deck, heaving deep angry breaths. When she looked up, she found herself staring right into Jenna Cavanaugh's face.
Jenna was standing at the edge of her property, wearing big sunglasses and carrying a white cane. Hanna's throat seized up. It was like seeing a ghost. She really is blind, Hanna thought. She sort of thought it hadn't actually happened.
Jenna stood very still on the curb. If she could have seen, she would have been looking at the big hole in Ali's side yard that they were digging for her family's twenty-seat gazebo—the exact spot where, years later, workers would find Ali's body. Hanna stared at her for a long time, and Jenna stared blankly back. Then it hit her. Back there, with Sean, Hanna had taken Jenna's place, and Ali had taken Hanna's. There was no reason for Ali to tease Hanna except that she could. The realization struck Hanna so forcefully, she had to grab onto the railing for balance.
She looked at Jenna again. I'm so sorry, she mouthed. Jenna, of course, didn't respond. She couldn't see.
Hanna was never so happy to see the lights of Philadelphia—she was finally far away from Rosewood and Toby. She still had time to get back to the hotel before her father, Isabel, and Kate returned from Mamma Mia!, and perhaps she could take a bubble bath. Hopefully there was something good in the minibar, too. Something strong. Perhaps she'd even tell Kate what happened and they'd order room service and kill a big bottle of something together.
Wow. That was a thought Hanna never imagined would cross her mind.
She slid her room card into the door, pulled it open, slumped inside, and...nearly bumped into her father. He was standing in front of the door, talking on his cell phone. "Oh!" she screamed.
Her father whirled around. "She's here," he said into the phone, then slapped it shut. He eyed Hanna coolly. "Well. Welcome back."
Hanna blinked. Beyond her father were Kate and Isabel, Just...sitting there, on the couch, reading the Philadelphia tourist magazines that came with the room. "Hey," she said cautiously. Everyone was staring at her. "Did Kate tell you? I had to—"
"Go to Foxy?" Isabel interrupted.
Hanna's mouth fell open. Another bolt of lightning outside made her jump. She turned desperately to Kate, who had her hands haughtily folded in her lap and her head raised high. Had she...had she told? The look on her face said yes.
Hanna felt like she'd been dropped on her head. "It...it was an emergency."
"I'm sure it was." Her father put his hands flat on the table. "I can't believe you even came back. We thought you were going to pull another all-nighter...steal another car, maybe. Or...or who knows? Steal someone's airplane? Assassinate the president?"
"Dad..." Hanna pleaded. She'd never seen her father like this. His shirt was untucked, the ends of his socks weren't taut against his toes, and there was a smudge behind his ear. And he was raving. He never used to yell like this. "I can explain."
Her father pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead. "Hanna...can you explain this, too?" He reached into his pocket for something. Slowly, he unfurled his fingers, one by one. Inside, was the little foil packet of Percocet. Unopened.
As Hanna lunged for it, he snapped his hand closed like a clamshell. "Oh, no, you don't."
Hanna pointed at Kate. "She took those from me. She wanted them!"
"You gave them to me," Kate said evenly. She had this knowing, gotcha look on her face, a look that said, Don't even think you're worming your way into our lives. Hanna hated herself for being so stupid. Kate hadn't changed. Not a bit.
"What were you doing with pills in the first place?" her father asked. Then he held up his hand. "No. Forget it. I don't want to know. I..." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't know you anymore, Hanna. I really don't."
A dam inside Hanna broke. Well, of course you don't!" she screamed. "You haven't bothered to speak to me for almost four fucking years!"
A hush fell over the room. Everyone seemed afraid to move. Kate's hands were flat against her magazine. Isabel froze, one finger bizarrely at her earlobe. Her father opened his mouth to speak, but then shut it again.
There was a knock on the door, and everyone jumped.
Ms. Marin was on the other side, looking uncharacteristically disheveled: Her hair was wet and stringy, she didn't have much makeup on, and she was wearing a simple T-shirt and jeans, a far cry from the put-together ensembles she usually wore to Wawa.
"You're coming with me." She narrowed her eyes at Hanna but didn't glance at Isabel or Kate. Hanna wondered fleetingly if this was the first time everyone was meeting. When her mother saw the Percocet in Mr. Marin's hand, she paled. "He told me about that on the way here."
Hanna looked over her shoulder at her father, but he had his head down. He didn't look disappointed exactly. He just looked...sad. Hopeless. Ashamed. "Dad..." she squeaked desperately, wrenching away from her mom. "I don't have to go, do I? I want to stay. Can't I tell you what's going on with me? I thought you wanted to know."
"It's too late," her father said mechanically. "You're going home with your mother. Maybe she can talk some sense into you."
Hanna had to laugh. "You think she's going to talk sense into me? She's...she's sleeping with the cop who arrested me last week. She's been known to come home at two A.M. on school nights. If I'm sick and have to stay home from school, she tells me it's okay to call up the front office and just pretend I'm her, because she's too busy, and—"
"Hanna!" her mother screamed, clamping her fingers around Hanna's arm.
Hanna's brain was so scrambled, she had no idea whether telling her dad this stuff was helping or hurting her. She just felt so duped. By everyone. She was sick of people walking all over her. "There are so many things I wanted to tell you, but I can't. Please let me stay. Please."
The only thing that wavered in her father was a tiny muscle, up by his neck. Otherwise, his face was stony and impassive. He took a step closer to Isabel and Kate. Isabel took his hand.
"Good night, Ashley," he said to Hanna's mother. To Hanna, he said nothing at all.