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“No cabs!” Madison crowed. “I’m fine!” She twirled the key ring around her finger, but it flew off and skidded under a video poker machine. When she bent down on her hands and knees to retrieve it, the whole bar got a view of her pink thong.
“That’s it,” Hanna had said, slapping down a twenty to cover Madison’s bill. She gathered Madison’s purse from under the stool and yanked the girl to her feet. “I’m driving you home, okay? Where do you live?”
“I can drive, Olivia,” Madison whined, using the fake name Hanna had given her. “I’m serfectly pober! I mean perfectly bober! I mean …”
And that was when she turned green, bent at the waist, and puked on her Coach flats. Patrons backed away, looking disgusted. Jackson wrinkled his nose. “Come on,” Hanna said, dragging Madison out the door before she could vomit again. She felt a tiny spiral of worry as she took Madison’s keys—she’d had a drink, too. But it was hours ago, and she’d nursed it. She’d drive a few miles under the speed limit to make sure no cops would stop her.
Now a bunch of girls rushed to the side of the ship, pulling Hanna from her thoughts. “Are those dolphins?” someone cried.
Mike rose to see, but Hanna remained in her seat, her thoughts still churning. It seemed so unlikely that Naomi could have found out she was the driver that night—not unless Madison woke up and remembered, which would have been impossible if she’d died. Had she seen the crash happen from her new house, taking in everything through the trees? But that didn’t make sense, either—if she’d watched, surely she’d seen that car come out of nowhere and run Hanna off the road.
“There you are!”
Hanna looked up. Naomi stood above her, dressed in a green Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress and raffia sandals. She held a glass of grapefruit juice in her hand and smelled, as usual, of Kate Spade Twirl.
“I just heard the best gossip about that Erin Bang Bang girl,” Naomi said conspiratorially.
Hanna blinked, unnerved by Naomi’s approach. “What was it?”
Naomi plopped down in Mike’s seat. “Apparently, someone heard her talking on the phone with her mom. And get this—she was pretending like she was a complete angel, saying how she was praying every morning, spending a lot of time with her classmates, and avoiding parties and boys. Can you believe it?”
Hanna eyed Naomi carefully. Her eyes were twinkling, and she had a sweet smile on her face. She seemed so harmless, not like a malicious killer. But this was probably part of her plan as A. Still, Hanna thought about the strategy Spencer had suggested to earn Naomi’s trust and figure out if she was A. She could fake-friend her. All of a sudden, it seemed feasible. Maybe Hanna could even figure out if Naomi really knew about the accident with Madison, too.
She cracked a tiny smile. “If only we could post Erin’s dalliances in a place where Mama Bang Bang would see.”
“Seriously.” Naomi chuckled, taking the bait.
Hanna laid down her napkin. “I saw a sign that it’s Karaoke Night tonight. Want to go?”
Naomi raised an eyebrow. “Only if you’ll sing a duet with me. I hate doing karaoke alone.”
“You got it!”
“Let’s go now,” Naomi suggested. “I have the perfect song for us.”
Hanna stood just as Mike returned from dolphin-spotting. He gave her a confused look, which she avoided with a kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you later,” she said breezily, then glided away. Hopefully he didn’t notice how badly her hands were shaking as she followed Naomi to the elevators.
The karaoke lounge was two levels down, and they could hear caterwauling all the way from the elevator bank. There was a small, dimly lit stage at the front of the room, and the room’s small, round tables were filled with kids. Hanna noticed a cute, dark-haired guy sitting by himself near the bathrooms. It was Graham, the boy Aria was partnered with for the scavenger hunt. Aria had shown her pictures of him on the Tabitha Clark Memorial website.
As if sensing her gaze, Graham turned and looked at Hanna, too. He didn’t blink. Hanna flinched and turned away. She followed Naomi to peruse the book of songs, her heart banging the whole time. I could be standing next to A right now, she kept thinking. This girl could know all the horrible things I’ve ever done.
She eyed “California Gurls” by Katy Perry and considered suggesting it, but then decided it was too cheesy. But suddenly, Naomi pointed at it, too. “I think we could rock this one, don’t you?”
“Let’s do it.” Hanna wrote it down next to their names. There was no way she was quibbling with A.
They sat down at a table and waited their turn. Though Hanna had to keep jiggling her leg to assuage her nerves, she pretended to be completely calm, watching as a bunch of guys from Ulster growled out something by a metal band and three girls with the same blond haircut pretended they were Britney Spears. Naomi pulled out her cell phone, and though Hanna was dying to look at what she was writing, she kept her gaze pasted on her drink, her heart thudding hard.
Naomi dropped her phone back in her bag. “I wish they would serve us,” she sighed. “I so need a cocktail. I’m having major guy issues, and I want to drown my sorrows.”
“What’s going on?” Hanna asked, shakily resting her chin in her palm. Fake-friending Rule #1: Always pretend to care about the fake friend’s boy problems.
Naomi sighed. “The guy I’m into likes Spencer.”
Hanna sipped the water that had been placed in front of her, surprised Spencer hadn’t brought this up when they’d talked about A last night. “That sucks,” she said fumblingly.
