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Hanna’s heart started to hammer. She glanced around for Mike again but still couldn’t find his head of dark hair.
Appleton pulled a shiny white envelope from the inside breast pocket of his blazer and sliced it open with his nail. He took great care in unfolding it and then had to spend a few seconds adjusting his glasses. Get on with it! Hanna wanted to scream.
“First, prom king.” Appleton adjusted the microphone, and a screech sounded through the speakers. “The winner is . . . Noel Kahn!”
Everyone cheered. Noel rose and strode toward the podium, giving everyone his easy, I’m-cool-and-I-know-it smile. Hanna glanced at Aria. She was clapping, but there was something off about her expression. Hanna thought again about how Aria hadn’t told them that Noel had gotten her the decor chairwoman job. Was that all she hadn’t told them?
After the crown was placed upon Noel’s head and the applause died down, Appleton faced the students once more. “And now for the name you’ve all been waiting for: prom queen.” He squinted in the bright lights. “The winner is . . .”
The hot lights beat on Hanna’s forehead. A bead of sweat trickled down her back. She peered out at the crowd. Everyone’s eyes were on the stage. A zillion thoughts zinged through her head at once, and none of them had anything to do with A: Did she look flushed and nervous, or poised and amazing? What if she won? What if she didn’t?
“Hanna Marin!”
Hanna placed a hand over her mouth to control an excited squeal. The audience applauded thunderously. As she rose to shake Appleton’s hand, her legs trembled. Suddenly, a hand grabbed her arm. “Congratulations,” a voice said. “You make the perfect queen.”
Chassey’s eyes were watering, but there was a wide smile on her face, like she was actually glad for Hanna.
“Th-thanks,” Hanna stammered, taken off guard. Most runners-up trash-talked the winner. It was practically mandatory.
She turned and headed to the podium. With a snap, hundreds of blue-and-white balloons fell from the net on the ceiling and bounced onto her head. She batted them away, laughing. The crowd roared. The prom committee girls beamed. Aria strode forward and gave Hanna a hug.
As Hanna turned around and accepted the crown, the scepter, and even a little faux-fur, royal-blue shrug for her shoulders, all her troubles drifted off. For one shining, brilliant second, she was prom queen and nothing else—not a secret-keeper, not a victim, not a framed killer. A couldn’t touch her. Her life was simple, and charmed, and absolutely perfect.
The assembly adjourned, and Hanna walked down the aisles to hundreds of congratulations. When someone grabbed her hand at the back of the auditorium, she assumed it was another well-wisher. A woman in a dark blue suit frowned down at her, her eyes flinty and sharp. A scream froze in Hanna’s throat. Agent Fuji.
“Congratulations, Hanna,” Agent Fuji said smoothly. “I don’t mean to sully the moment, but I have a few more questions for you, and you’re a hard girl to track down. Would you mind if I stopped by your house tomorrow afternoon, maybe about four thirty?”
Hanna’s bottom lip trembled. Why did Fuji want to speak with her again? “I-I probably have prom queen stuff to do after school tomorrow.”
“I’m sure they can let it slide. It will take only a few minutes, I promise.” A weird smile swam across Fuji’s face. “Besides, you want to get all of this out of the way before prom, don’t you?” She shifted her briefcase strap higher on her shoulder and gave Hanna a nod. “See you then!”
And then she was gone. Hanna watched her go, her heart thudding. But suddenly, something occurred to her: Agent Fuji was going to meet Hanna at her house . . . but she hadn’t said which house. All Hanna had to do was hide out at the mall for a few hours. Whichever house Fuji called from to ask where she was, Hanna would just say she was at her other parent’s for the day.
It was brilliant. Hanna’s mood buoyed again, and she practically skipped down the hall. Until she realized: Newly crowned prom queens did not skip, they glided. Which was exactly what she did.
Later that afternoon, Hanna was still gliding. This time, though, it was down the burn clinic hallway with a bottle of Mr. Clean swinging from her hand.
“I’m gonna be prom queen,” she chanted melodically, pausing in the middle of the hall to do a pirouette. She thought of perks other prom queens had enjoyed. Last year’s queen, Angelica Anderson, had gotten her picture in the style section of the Philadelphia Sentinel. The paper even interviewed Angelica about her prom dress and pre–prom day, like she was an It Girl on Oscar night. Would Hanna get that opportunity, too?
She peeked into Graham’s room. Today he was sleeping so soundly he almost looked dead. But even that didn’t sully her mood.
“Someone sure is happy to be on bedpan duty.”
Hanna looked up. Kyla lay on her cot in the same spot in the hall where she’d been the other day. There were fresh bandages on her face, and she’d taken off her socks to reveal coral-painted toenails. The last summer before Mona became A, she’d been obsessed with the exact same shade.
“Hey!” Hanna said brightly, surprised and pleased by how excited she was to see her. “I just got the best news at school.” She plopped down on a metal chair next to Kyla’s bed. “I was voted prom queen!”
“Are you serious?” Kyla squeaked. She groped for Hanna’s hand. This time, Hanna let her hold it. “That is so incredible!”
“I know,” Hanna gushed.
