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It made her think of that fateful first night in Jamaica. When Emily was on her way back from the bathroom after yet another puke session, a hand caught her arm. “Hey!” a girl said in a bright, familiar voice.
Emily stared. It was the girl she’d seen earlier, the one she thought was Ali. “H-Hi?”
“I’m Tabitha.” The girl thrust out her hand, which was covered in scars. “I saw you watching me from across the room. Do you go to my school?”
“I-I don’t think so,” Emily squeaked. But she couldn’t stop staring. Did Tabitha look like Ali, or didn’t she?
Tabitha cocked her head. “Want to take a picture? It’ll last longer.”
Emily wrenched her eyes away. “Sorry. I just feel like I know you from somewhere.”
“Maybe you do.” Tabitha winked. “Maybe we’ve met in a past life.” A Ke$ha song blared over the stereo. Tabitha’s eyes lit up. “I love Ke$ha!” she exclaimed, grabbing Emily’s hand harder. “Dance with me!”
Dance with her? It was one thing for this girl to remind Emily of Ali, but now she was acting like her, too. Still, Emily couldn’t resist. Feeling hypnotized, she let Tabitha lead her onto the dance floor and spin her around. Halfway through the song, Tabitha stretched out her arm and took a picture of both of them with her phone. She promised to send it to Emily later, but she never did.
A straw wrapper bounced off Emily’s nose. Chloe giggled across the table. “Gotcha, space cadet!”
It was enough to break Emily out of her funk. “That’s it.” She grabbed her own straw and peeled off the wrapper. “You’re going down.”
She blew the wrapper at Chloe’s ear. Chloe retaliated by tossing her napkin at Emily’s shoulder. Emily beaned a crouton at Chloe, and Chloe pelted her with an M&M. It ricocheted off Emily’s forehead and disappeared down Imogen Smith’s shirt.
Imogen turned around and glowered. James Freed stood at a nearby table and grinned. “I’ll search for it, Imogen!” Imogen had some of the biggest boobs in the class.
The cafeteria monitor, an ancient woman named Mary, stormed over to Emily and Chloe. “No throwing food! Am I going to have to separate you two?” Her glasses swung on a chain around her neck. She wore a sweatshirt with kittens on the front.
“Sorry,” Emily whispered. Then she and Chloe looked at each other and burst into giggles. It reminded Emily of a feeling she’d had a long time ago, when she, Ali, and the others used to giggle in just this way in just this cafeteria.
Suddenly, she realized what that feeling was: happiness.
Chapter 15
Hanna Marin, Role Model
“Okay, everyone, please find your seats!” Jeremiah flitted around the back room of Mr. Marin’s campaign headquarters, a large office in a luxury building that also housed a plastic surgeon, a high-end interior design firm, and several psychiatrists’ offices. His glasses were askew, and there were bags under his eyes. What Jeremiah needed, Hanna thought, was a very long day at the spa.
Hanna tried not to get jostled by the staff members, consultants, and focus group leaders piling into the room. It was Wednesday evening, and they’d gathered here to watch the final cut of her dad’s commercial.
The elevator dinged and Isabel and Kate swept in, all broad smiles and glossy hair. Isabel looked orange and ridiculous as usual, but Kate looked fresh and pretty in a coral-colored Rachel Pally jersey dress and black Kate Spade platform heels. As soon as she saw Hanna, she shot her a tight, self-satisfied smile. “Hey, Hanna! Excited to see the final result?”
Hanna rolled her eyes at Kate and her saccharine, rubbing-it-in-your-face enthusiasm. Yeah, yeah, yeah, Kate was about to be the star of a political commercial. A few days ago, it might have stung, but not anymore.
“Sure.” Hanna pulled the Love Quotes silk scarf she’d bought this afternoon at Otter, her favorite boutique, around her shoulders. All the models on Full Frontal Fashion wore diaphanous scarves backstage. “Any exposure is good for my modeling career.”
Kate’s icy smile drooped. “What modeling career?”
“Oh, you didn’t know? A photographer discovered me at my dad’s taping,” Hanna said breezily, as though this were a regular occurrence. “We did a shoot in Philly. It was super high-fashion. He’s going to send my portfolio to some New York agents pronto. He’s really well-connected.”
Kate’s eyes shifted back and forth, and her cheeks reddened. She looked like she was about to spontaneously combust. “Oh,” she said finally, the word sounding like a belch. “Well, good luck with that.” Then she flounced away, her shoulders rigid, her butt cheeks tightly clenched. Score.
Hanna’s father appeared through the doors, and everyone applauded. He walked to the front of the room and waved his hands to quiet them down. “Thank you all for coming! I can’t wait for you to see the commercial. But first, let me introduce some people who helped make it happen . . .”
Then he proceeded to praise about fifty billion people, from the video editor to his stylist to the lady who cleaned the office. Hanna looked around, hoping Patrick might be here, but Sergio was the only representative from the photo shoot. Her crush on Patrick had blossomed over the last twenty-four hours: She’d sent him several texts during school, and he’d responded immediately, saying her photos were as beautiful as she was. Already, she had visions of the two of them taking New York by storm, the up-and-coming fashion photographer and his supermodel girlfriend.
