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“And I bet you have a super-hot date, too, huh?” Kyla asked, propping herself up a little on the bed. “You are so lucky.”
Hanna blushed. “I’m going with my boyfriend. And, yeah. He’s pretty hot.”
Kyla squealed. “Spill it! What does he look like? How long have you been going out? I want to know everything.”
Hanna felt another rush of pleasure at Kyla’s interest. “I’m actually pissed at him right now,” she admitted. “He missed the assembly where they announced that I won. He’s going to have to give me back rubs for hours to make up for it.”
Kyla clucked her tongue. “You deserve better than that.”
“I know.” Hanna rolled her eyes. “But usually he’s amazing, and . . .”
Someone tapped her on the arm, and she stopped. “Miss Marin?” It was Kelly. “There’s a call for you at the front desk.”
Hanna frowned. The only people who knew she was here were her parents. She glanced at Kyla. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
“I’ll be here,” Kyla trilled.
A receiver was sitting on the front desk when Hanna arrived. “Hello?” Hanna said worriedly into the phone, wondering why her parents were trying to track her down.
“So you are there,” Mike’s voice boomed over the line.
Hanna’s blood went cold. “O-oh!” she chirped after a moment. “Um, hi, Mike! What’s up?”
“What’s up is that you’ve been lying to me. You haven’t been doing stuff for your mom or going to hair appointments. You’ve been at the burn clinic.” His tone was clipped and accusatory.
Hanna wound the cord around her finger. The sharp smell of the bleach they used to clean the floors stung her nose. How did Mike find out she was at the burn clinic? Had A contacted him? But that made no sense—A didn’t know about this, either. Right? She hadn’t received a single note.
“It’s to be with Sean, isn’t it?” Mike said when she didn’t answer. “I don’t get it. What do you see in him? He wasn’t even nice to you.”
Hanna slumped into the leather chair next to the front desk. “Wait, you think I’m with Sean?” she whispered. “Why would you think that?”
Mike scoffed. “Why have you guys been talking a lot? Hugging?”
Hanna blinked hard, remembering the tender moment she and Sean shared about Ali. “Okay, we hugged once,” she admitted. “But it was totally platonic. Who told you that happened?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Mike said stiffly. “It just matters that you’re lying to me.”
“I have a good explanation for why I’m here!” Hanna cried.
“Great. I’d like to hear it,” Mike demanded.
Hanna’s gaze drifted toward the circular drive. At that very moment, the nurse who’d changed Graham’s IV bag the other day swept past the lobby, her lips pursed tightly. “I can’t.”
“Why not? Are you having top-secret treatment for a burn?”
“No . . .”
“Are you having plastic surgery?” Mike sounded incredulous.
“Mike, no. It’s just . . .”
“It’s Sean,” Mike concluded. “That’s the only reason that makes sense.”
Hanna’s head was starting to hurt. “It’s not Sean! It’s just . . .”
“You know what, Hanna?” Mike sounded weary. “I don’t really want to have this conversation. Until you actually give me a reason, I’m not taking you to prom.”
“Jesus, Mike!” Hanna shouted into the phone, so loudly that a nurse at the station gave her a sharp, there-are-no-personal-calls-allowed-in-here look. “Wait! Don’t be like that!”
Then he hung up. Hanna wheeled around, tempted to kick the side of the desk, then noticed a piece of paper stuck to her shoe. Frowning, she kneeled down and picked it up. A familiar smiling face stared back at her. Ali. Hanna could almost hear her giggle echoing through the air.
Hanna faced the receptionist. “Who was standing here before me?”
The woman blinked at her. “No one,” she said after a beat.
Hanna’s heart thudded hard as she looked at the paper. It was the picture of Real Ali that ran in the Philadelphia Sentinel when she’d returned to Rosewood last year. Someone had drawn a crown on her head with a pink Sharpie. And underneath her chin was:
You don’t deserve the crown, bitch, and you know it. Here’s the real queen. —A
18
No Fun for You, Ms. Fields
The following morning, Emily pulled into the now familiar neighborhood of Crestview Estates. The glimmering pond greeted her on the left. A huge gazebo and flower garden were on the right. The mansions looked even more enormous today, the chandeliers in the foyers twinkling through the windows.
“What are we doing here?” Iris’s nose was pressed to the window like a little kid.
“I told you. One of my friends lives here,” Emily murmured. “I need to pick up something from her for school.”
“One of your friends lives here?” Iris seemed impressed. “Is her dad, like, Bill Gates or something?”
Emily steered into the circle, feeling bad that she couldn’t tell Iris the truth. Sure, she was lying to her about a lot of stuff, but things with them had become easier since they skinny-dipped in the lake on Tuesday. They’d even developed an inside joke about Emily’s dad’s old, stinky fleece slippers. But it wasn’t like she could bring her inside the panic room while she and her friends had yet another talk about Real Ali and her helper.
