AllFreeNovel
Share Us
These past few months with Lucas might have been the first time she’d felt purely, simply happy. Why wasn’t that enough?
Only it just wasn’t, and she knew it. When she and Lucas had reunited, she hadn’t thought there was much chance of becoming Fabulous Hanna Marin ever again—and now there was. Being the most popular girl at Rosewood Day was threaded through every single molecule of Hanna’s DNA. From fourth grade on, she’d memorized even the most minuscule designers in Vogue, Women’s Wear Daily, and Nylon. Back then, she rehearsed snarky comments about girls in her class to Scott Chin, one of her only friends, who giggled gleefully that she was a perfect bitch-in-training.
In sixth grade, right after Time Capsule ended, Hanna had gone to the Rosewood Day charity drive and spotted a Hermès scarf that someone had foolishly placed in the fifty-cent pile. Mere seconds later, Ali sidled up to her, complimenting Hanna’s keen eye. And then they’d started talking. Hanna was certain that Ali chose Hanna to be her new best friend not because Hanna was the prettiest, not because she was the thinnest, not even because she’d been ballsy enough to show up in Ali’s backyard to steal her piece of the Time Capsule flag, but because Hanna was most qualified for the job. And because she wanted it the most.
Hanna smoothed her hair, trying hard to forget about everything that had just happened with Lucas. As she turned the corner, she saw Kate, Naomi, and Riley stare straight at her before bursting into nasty giggles.
Suddenly, Hanna’s eyes began to blur, and all at once, it wasn’t Kate standing there, laughing—it was Mona. It was just a few months ago, mere days before Mona’s Sweet Seventeen party. Hanna would never forget the swirling feelings of disbelief when she’d seen Mona standing with Naomi and Riley, acting as if they were her brand-new BFFs, whispering about how much of a loser Hanna was.
Those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it. Kate, Naomi, and Riley weren’t laughing at her, were they?
And then Hanna’s vision cleared. Kate noticed Hanna and waved enthusiastically. Meet at Steam next period? she mouthed, pointing toward the coffee bar.
Hanna nodded feebly. Kate blew her a kiss and disappeared around the corner.
Whirling around, Hanna pushed into the girls’ bathroom. Thankfully, it was empty. She rushed to one of the sinks and leaned over the basin, her stomach raging. The sharp, ammonia smell of cleaning products filled her nose. She stared in the mirror, getting close so she could see each and every pore.
They were not laughing at you. You’re Hanna Marin, she mouthed to her reflection. The most popular girl in school. Everyone wants to be you.
Her BlackBerry, which was tucked into one of her purse’s side pockets, began to buzz. Hanna flinched and pulled it out. One new text message.
The little mosaic-tiled bathroom was still. A droplet of water leaked from the sink. The chrome hand dryers made Hanna’s face look bulbous and misshapen. She peeked underneath the stall doors for feet. No one.
She took a deep breath and opened the new text.
Hanna—A glutton for Cheez-Its…and punishment, too, it seems. Ruin her before she ruins you.
—A
Rage coursed hotly through her veins. She’d had enough of Nouveau A. Hanna opened up a reply text and began to sloppily type. Rot in hell. You don’t know a thing about me.
Her BlackBerry made an efficient little ping to indicate the text had been sent. Just as Hanna was sliding it back in its suede case, it chimed again.
I know that someone sometimes makes herself puke in the girls’ bathroom. And I know someone’s sad because she isn’t daddy’s only little girl anymore. And I know someone dearly misses her old BFF, even though she wanted her dead. How do I know so much? Because I grew up in Rosewood, Hannakins. Just like you.
—A
23
THE QUIETEST COURTROOM ON THE MAIN LINE
Aria stepped out of Spencer’s Mercedes, gaping at the media circus in front of the Rosewood courthouse. The steps were crammed with reporters, cameras, and guys in quilted down jackets wielding booms and microphones. There were clusters of people with picket signs, too. Some conspiracy theorists were protesting the trial, saying it was a left-wing witch hunt—they were after Ian because his father was a CEO for a big pharmaceutical company in Philadelphia. Angry people on the other side of the steps demanded that Ian deserved to go to the electric chair for what he’d done. And there were, of course, the Ali Fans—people who came simply to hold up big pictures of Ali’s face and signs that said, WE MISS YOU, ALI, even though most of them had never met her.
“Whoa,” Aria whispered, her stomach churning.
Halfway across the sidewalk, Aria noticed two people walking slowly from the auxiliary parking lot. Ella’s arm was looped around Xavier’s, and they were both in thick wool coats.
Aria hid under her big, fur-lined hood. Last night, after Xavier had kissed her, she’d run upstairs and locked herself in her room. When she’d finally emerged a few hours later, she found Mike at the kitchen table, eating an enormous bowl of Count Chocula. He scowled at her when she entered the room. “Did you say something shitty to Xavier?” Mike spat. “When I got off the phone, he was hightailing it out of here. Are you trying to screw it up for Mom?”
Aria had turned away, too ashamed to say anything. She was pretty sure the kiss had been a mistake, something done on a whim. Even Xavier had seemed surprised and regretful about what he’d just done. But she certainly didn’t want Mike—or anyone else—to know. Unfortunately, someone did know: A. And Aria had crossed A by telling Wilden about her previous note. All night, Aria had anticipated a phone call from Ella, saying she’d received a mysterious message that said Aria had made a pass at Xavier and not the other way around. If Ella ever found out, Aria would probably be excommunicated from the family for the rest of her life.
