Tuesday morning, Hanna sat on her bed, slowly stroking Dot's muzzle and staring at herself in her handheld mirror. She'd finally found the right foundation that covered her bruises and stitches and wanted to share the good news. Her first instinct, of course, was to call Mona.
She watched in the mirror as her bottom lip twitched. It still wasn't real.
She supposed she could call her old friend, whom she'd seen a lot of the last few days. They'd taken yesterday off school and hung out in Spencer's hot tub, reading Us Weekly articles about Justin Timberlake, who had shown up at Hanna's party just after she left. He and his posse had been stuck in two hours of turnpike traffic. When the girls moved on to reading beauty and style tips, Hanna was reminded of how Lucas had read her an entire issue of Teen Vogue while she was in the hospital. She felt a pang of sadness, wondering if Lucas knew what had happened to her in the past few days. He hadn't called her. Maybe he never wanted to speak to her again.
Hanna put down the mirror. All at once, as easily as recalling a random fact, like the name of Lindsay Lohan's lawyer or Zac Efron's latest girlfriend, Hanna suddenly saw something else from the night of her accident. After she'd ripped her dress, Lucas had appeared over her, handing her his jacket to cover herself. He'd led her to the Hollis College Reading Room and held her as she sobbed. One thing led to another…and they were kissing, just as greedily as they'd kissed this past week.
Hanna sat on her bed for a long time, feeling numb. Finally, she reached for her phone and dialed Lucas's number. It went straight to voice mail. "Hey," she said when it beeped. "It's Hanna. I wanted to see if…if we could talk. Call me."
When she hung up, Hanna patted Dot on top of his argyle-sweltered back. "Maybe I should forget him," she whispered. "There's probably a cooler boy out there for me, don't you think?" Dot cocked his head uncertainly, like he didn't believe her.
"Hanna?" Ms. Marin's voice floated upstairs. "Can you come down?"
Hanna stood, rolling back her shoulders. Perhaps it was inappropriate to wear a bright red Erin Fetherston trapeze dress to Ian's arraignment—like wearing color to a funeral—but Hanna needed a little color pick-me-up. She snapped a gold cuff bracelet on her wrist, picked up her red Longchamp hobo bag, and shook her hair down her back. In the kitchen, her father sat at the table, doing a Philadelphia Inquirer crossed. Her mother sat next to him, checking her e-mail on her laptop. Hanna gulped. She hadn't seen them sitting together like this time since they were married.
"I thought you'd be back in Annapolis by now," she muttered.
Mr. Marin laid down his call point pen, and Hanna's mother pushed her laptop aside. "Hanna, we wanted to talk to you about something important," her dad said.
Hanna's heart leaped. They're getting back together. Kate and Isabel are gone.
Her mother cleared her throat. "I've been offered a new job…and I've accepted." She tapped her long, red nails against the table. "Only…it's in Singapore."
"Singapore?" Hanna squawked, sinking into a chair.
"I don't expect you to come," her mother went on. "Plus, with the amount of traveling I'll have to do, I'm not you should come. So these are the options." She held out on hand. "You could go to boarding school. Even around here, if you like." Then, she held out the other hand. "Or you could move in with your father."
Mr. Marin was nervously twiddling his pen in his fingers. "Seeing you in the hospital…it really made me realize a few things," he said quietly. "I want to be close to you, Hanna. I need to be a bigger part of your life."
"I'm not moving to Annapolis," Hanna blurted out.
"You don't have to," her father said gently. "I can transfer to my firm's office here. Your mother has offered to let me move into this house, in fact."
Hanna gaped. This sound like a reality TV show gone wrong. "Kate and Isabel are staying in Annapolis, right?"
Her father shook his head no. "It's a lot to think about. We'll give you some time to decide. I only want to transfer here if you'll live here too. Okay?"
Hanna looked around the sleek, modern kitchen, trying to picture her father and Isabel standing at the counter preparing dinner. Her father would sit in his old seat at the dinner table, Isabel in her mother's Kate could have the chair that they normally piled with magazines and junk mail.
Hanna would miss her mom, but she wasn't around that much anyway. Ad Hanna had longed for he father to come back—only, she wasn't sure if she wanted it like this. If she allowed Kate to move in, it would be war. Kate was skinny and blond and beautiful. Kate would try to march into Rosewood Day and take over.
But Kate would be the new girl. And Hanna…Hanna would be the popular girl.
"Um, okay. I'll think about it." Hanna stood up from the table, scooped up her bag, and walked to the downstairs powder room. Truthfully, she felt kind of…pumped. Maybe this would be awesome. She had the advantage. Over the next few weeks, she would have to make sure that she was the most popular girl in school. With Mona gone, it would be easy.
Hanna felt around in her purse's silk-lined pocket. Inside, two BlackBerries were nestled side by side—hers and Mona's. She knew the cops were looking for Mona's second phone, but she couldn't hand it over yet. She had one thing to do first.
She took a deep breath, pulled out the pone in the ran suede holder, and pressed the On button. The device sprang to life. There was no greeting, no personalized wallpaper. Mona had used this phone strictly for business.
Mona had saved every text message she'd sent to them, each note with a crisp, singular letter A. Hanna scrolled slowly through each of hers, chewing feverishly on her bottom lip. There was the first one she'd ever received, when she was at the police station for stealing the Tiffany bracelet and necklace—Hey, Hanna, since prison food makes you fat, you know what Sean's gonna say? Not it! And there was the last text Mona had sent from this phone, which included the chilling lines. And Mona? She's onto your friend, either. So watch your back.
The only one of Hanna's texts that hadn't been sent from this phone was the one that said, Don't believe everything you hear. Mona had accidentally sent that text from her regular phone. Hanna shivered. She'd just gotten a new phone that night and hadn't programmed everyone's numbers in yet. Mona had messed up, and Hanna had recognized her number. If she hadn't, who knew how long this would have gone on.
Hanna squeezed Mona's BlackBerry, wanting to crush it flat. Why? she wanted to scream. She knew she should despise Mona right now—the cops had found the SUV Mona used to hit Hanna stashed in the Vanderwaals' detached garage. The car had a tarp over it, but the front fender was bashed in, and blood—Hanna's blood—was spattered on the headlights.
But Hanna couldn't hate her. She just couldn't. If only she could erase every good memory she had of Mona instead—their shopping sprees, their triumphant popularity coups, their Frenniversaries. Who would she consult in a wardrobe crisis? Who would she go shopping with?who would fake-friend for her?
She pressed the bathroom's peppermint-scented guest soap to her nose, willing herself not to cry and smear all her carefully applied makeup. After she took a few cleansing, calming breaths, Hanna looked at Mona's sent-message box again. She highlights each of the texts Mona had sent to her as A, and then hit Delete All. Are you sure you want to delete? a screen asked. Hanna clicked Yes. A garbage can lid opened and closed. If she couldn't deselect their friendship, at least she could delete her secrets.
Wilden stood waiting in the foyer—he had offered to drive Hanna to the arraignment. Hanna noticed that his eyes were heavy and his mouth turned down. She wondered if he was exhausted from the weekend's activity, or if her mom had just told him about her Singapore job too. "Ready?" he asked Hanna quietly.
Hanna nodded. "But hang on." She reached into her bag and held out Mona's BlackBerry. "Present for you."
Wilden took it from her, confused. Hanna didn't bother to explain. He was a cop. He'd figure it out soon enough.
Wilden opened the squad car's passenger side and Hanna slipped in. Before they drove away, Hanna rolled back her shoulders, took a deep breath, and checked out her reflection in the visor mirror. Her dark eyes shone, her auburn hair was full of body, and the creamy foundation was still covering all of her bruises. Her face was thing, her teeth were straight, and she didn't have a single zit. The ugly, chubby seventh-grade Hanna who had haunted her reflection for weeks now was banished forever. Starting now.
She was Hanna Marin, after all. And she was fabulous.