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“Do you like it here?” Dr. Felicia’s voice swooped up and down. She was one of those people who never blinked but always smiled. It made her seem like a deranged cheerleader on Ritalin.
“It’s great,” Hanna said. “Really, um, fun so far.”
The doctor frowned. “Well, fun is good, but is there anything you’d like to discuss with the group?”
“Not really,” Hanna snapped.
Dr. Felicia pursed her lips, looking disappointed.
“Hanna’s my roommate, and she seems fine,” Iris jumped in. “She and I talk tons—I think this place is doing wonders for her. I mean, at least she doesn’t pull out her hair like Ruby.”
At that, everyone turned to Ruby, who indeed was grasping her hair in mid-yank. Hanna shot Iris a grateful smile, appreciative that she’d diverted Felicia’s attention elsewhere.
But after Dr. Felicia asked Ruby a few questions, she turned back to Hanna. “So, Hanna, would you like to tell us why you’re here? You’d be amazed at how much talking helps.”
Hanna jiggled her foot. Maybe if she sat here silent for long enough, Felicia would move on to someone else. Then she heard someone across the room take a breath.
“Hanna has normal, run-of-the-mill problems,” Tara said in a high-pitched, scathing voice. “She has eating issues, like every perfect girl does. Her daddy doesn’t love her anymore, but she’s trying not to think about it. And oh, she had a bitchy ex-best friend. Blah, blah, blah, nothing worth talking about.”
Satisfied, Tara leaned back, crossed her arms over her chest, and shot Hanna a look that said, You asked for it.
Iris sniffed. “Wow, Tara, good for you. You spied on us. You have ears. And what ugly little rat ears they are.”
“Now,” Dr. Felicia warned.
Hanna didn’t want to give Tara the satisfaction either, but as she reviewed Tara’s words, the blood drained from her face. Something Tara had just said was very, very wrong.
“H-how did you know about my best friend?” she stammered. Mona’s face swam into her mind, her eyes fiery with rage as she gunned the engine of her SUV.
Tara blinked, caught off guard.
“It’s obvious,” Iris jumped in acidly. “She had her ear pressed to our door all night.”
Hanna’s heart beat faster and faster. A salt truck roared by outside. The sound of its plow blade scraping against the pavement made her wince. She looked at Iris. “But I never said anything about my bitch ex-best friend. Do you remember me saying anything about her?”
Iris scratched her chin. “Well, no. But I was tired, so maybe I’d fallen asleep by then.”
Hanna ran her hand over her forehead. What the hell was happening? She’d taken an extra dose of Valium last night to help her sleep; had it made her blurt out stuff about Mona? Her mind felt like a dark, endless tunnel.
“Maybe you didn’t want to talk about this friend, Hanna,” Dr. Felicia rushed in. She rose to her feet and walked to the windows. “But sometimes our minds and bodies have a way of pushing our problems out nevertheless.”
Hanna glared at her. “I don’t just blurt shit out. I don’t have Tourette’s. I’m not a moron.”
“You don’t need to get worked up,” Dr. Felicia said gently.
“I’m not getting worked up!” Hanna roared, her voice echoing off the walls.
Felicia backed off, her eyes round. A tense ripple swept through the other girls. Megan coughed, “Psycho,” into her hand. Pinpricks danced across Hanna’s skin.
Dr. Felicia returned to her chair and riffled her notebook pages. “Well. Let’s move on.” She turned a page in her notebook. “Uh . . . Gina. Have you spoken to your mom this week? How did that go?”
But as Dr. Felicia asked the other girls about how their weeks had been, Hanna’s mind wouldn’t quiet down. It was like there was a tiny splinter in her brain that desperately needed to be dislodged. When she shut her eyes, she was in the Rosewood Day parking lot again, Mona’s car barreling toward her. No, she shouted to herself. She couldn’t go down this path, not here, not ever again. She forced her eyes open. The fun noodles in the corner blurred and wobbled. The girls’ faces warped and stretched, like she was looking at them through a fun house mirror.
Unable to stand it any longer, Hanna pointed a shaking finger at Tara. “You have to tell me how you know about Mona.”
Silence fell. Tara’s pimply brow crinkled. “Excuse me?”
“Did A tell you about her?” Hanna asked.
Tara shook her head slowly. “A who?”
Dr. Felicia stood up, crossed the room, and touched Hanna’s arm. “You seem confused, honey. Maybe you should go back to your room and rest.”
But Hanna didn’t move. Tara matched her stare for a while, then rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I have no idea who Mona is. I thought your bitchy best friend was Alison.”
Hanna’s throat shunted closed. She sank back into her seat.
Iris perked up. “Alison? Isn’t that the girl whose flag you have? Why is she an ex-best friend?”
Hanna barely heard her. She stared at Tara. “How do you know about Alison?” she whispered.
Begrudgingly, Tara reached into her grubby canvas bag. “From this.” She tossed a copy of People Hanna had never seen before across the room. It skidded to a stop next to Hanna’s chair. “I was going to tell you about this before GT. But you were too cool to talk to me.”
Hanna snatched the magazine and opened to a marked page. Splashed out across the spread was the headline A Week of Secrets and Lies. Beneath it was a picture of Hanna, Spencer, Aria, and Emily, running from the fire in the woods. The caption said The Pretty Little Liars, followed by each of their names.
