A few hours later, Hanna sat on a ripped barstool at Snooker's, a college bar in Hollis. There were sports jerseys all over the walls and ugly green banker's lamps behind the counter, and the air smelled like fried mozzarella sticks and stale beer. An old Bruce Springsteen song played on the jukebox, and the room was packed with loud kids.
"Okay, who would you rather hook up with," Hanna said, scanning the crowd, "Mr. I'm Taking Over Daddy's Company in Five Years, or Mr. The Only Interesting Thing About Me Is That I'm Irish?" She pointed to two college boys nursing beers in the corner. The first guy wore a preppy button-down and had a smug look on his face that only someone with a trust fund could pull off. The second guy had doughy features, red hair, was wearing a T-shirt that said Dublin on it, and was drinking—of course—a Guinness.
"Ugh, neither." Dinah popped the olive from her martini into her mouth. "Look at the girls they're with! Is that a Burberry bag she's carrying? That is so 2001"
"Says the girl who wears poodle skirts," Hanna teased, poking Dinah on the arm.
Dinah pretended to be offended. "Poodle skirts are retro," she said haughtily.
"I forgive you," Hanna said. "After all, you've got an awesome bag." She pointed to Dinah's quilted Chanel on the stool. It turned out it wasn't a fake—Dinah's aunt who worked at Bazaar had put at the top of the waiting list and scored her one from New York flagship store.
The bartender set down another martini for Dinah and another vodka-cranberry for Hanna, and they clinked glasses. A warm sense of happiness washed over Hanna as she took the first sip. After she and Dinah had scampered away from Kate and Santa in the dressing room, they'd ditched the Elizabeth and James dress on a random table, called a truce, and decided to hit the college bars. Dinah had left her car at the mall, and on the drive over in Hanna's Prius, they'd chatted about fashion, beauty products, celebrities, and their favorite suburban boutiques, Hanna's four most favorite topics. The conversation had come naturally, as though they'd been friends for years.
But when they'd approached Snooker's, Hanna had been apprehensive. She didn't have a fake ID, and after getting caught shoplifting last year, she didn't want the cops after her again. Dinah had squeezed her hand and said, "Leave everything to me." She breezed up to the bouncer, who had a crew cut and wore a heavy gold chain around his neck, ad said, "Hey, Jake! Remember me?"
The bouncer had smiled at Dinah's appreciatively, but then asked to see the girls' IDs. Dinah had stuck her lip out in a pout. "C'mon, Jakie-poo. Don't be like that." She traced her fingers up and down his arm. Finally, the bouncer just shrugged and opened the door for them. Inside, Hanna gave Dinah a thumbs-up. It was just like something Ali might have done.
Dinah reached for a French fry from the plate they'd ordered. "We are so going against our boot camp pledges right now. I bet Vince is going to know and make us work out for five hours next session."
"Yep, I can feel the fat oozing back to my thighs," Hanna hoked.
Dinah waved her hand. "As if you ever had fat in your thighs! Why did you join boot camp, anyway?"
Hanna rolled her eyes. "Uh, because I'm horribly out of shape and can't fit into any of my clothes?"
Dinah stared at her like she was crazy. "Are you one of those girls who looks in the mirror and sees a cow?"
"I'm not like that," Hanna assured her. Or was she? Every time she looked at her reflection, she found something wrong. Her hair looked oily. Her arms were puffy. Her face was too round. A lot of the time, she barely noticed all the hard work she'd put in with Mona in eighth grade. All she saw was the old Hanna, and the loser she'd been back in middle school.
Hanna popped a fry into her mouth. "You know, I had this beautiful friend once. She was popular, gorgeous, the kind of girl everyone wanted to be. I was in her clique, but she always add it clear that I was hanging on by a thread. She made fun of the way I ate, how my jeans didn't fit, everything. After so many years of hearing that, it's kind of hard to shake."
Dinah leaned her elbows on the counter. "So what happened to this girl? You ditched her, right?"
Hanna kept her eyes fixed on the Absolut bottles behind the bar. "Actually…she's dead. Her name was Alison DiLaurentis. Maybe you've heard of her."
"Maybe I've heard of her?" Dinah's eyes popped wide. "That was only like the biggest story in all of Rosewood. They found her body not so long ago, right?"
Hanna nodded.
"Wow." Dinah knocked back the rest of her martini. "You know, I knew Alison."
"You did?" Hanna's head whipped up.
"Uh-huh." A faraway look clouded Dinah's face. "We met at a field hockey camp—I used to play in elementary school before I finally admitted to my parents how much I hated it. Alison was at the camp, too. She ruled a group of girls there, made them do everything she wanted. And for a while, I was their target. They called me Dinah Vagina. I didn't even do anything to them."
"That's terrible," Hanna said. "Ali used to call me Hanna Mon-TON-a. And a bunch of other names I don't even want to think about. Part of me wishes she could somehow see how much weight I've lost since then, how I've transformed."
Then Hanna sighed. "Actually, what am I saying? Ali would still probably find something about me to pick on if she was around now."
"Except now you wouldn't be friends with her, right?" Dinah said, linking her arm with Hanna's. "You're way too strong and independent to put up with that bitch."
"Totally," Hanna said shakily, although she wasn't really sure if that was true. Ali's jeering words still haunted her, especially when reincarnated through Mona as A. But she felt an even stronger kinship with Dinah now. Ali had touched them both, for better or for worse. They'd both been the girls Ali loved to tease.
A cheer rose up behind them, and Hanna turned to see Mr. Irish chugging a bunch of beers on a back table. "Sexy," she murmured, nudging Dinah. "I just might have to go home with him tonight."
Dinah snickered. "I thought you were saving yourself for Vince."
"I thought you were," Hanna retorted. An awkward beat passed, then suddenly the girls burst into laughter.
Dinah sighed. "I don't know what that guy's deal is. I saw him outside of the gym a couple of days ago, and he went on and on about how he was so happy that you and I were paired up together—he thought I could really help you out and teach you something."
Hanna slammed the counter with her palm. "I don't believe it. He said the same thing to me—about you!"
One of Dinah's eyebrows rose. "Do you think he wants us to compete for his attention? That's probably been his grand plan all along."
"What a jerk," Hanna spat. "He acts all saintly, but he'd really just trying to get us to throw ourselves at him." She hated to think that was about Vince, but maybe it was true.
"And what's with that vitamin water crap he keeps pushing?" Dinah rolled her eyes. "Every time I turn around he's swinging it."
"I bet it doesn't even any vitamins in it," Hanna said. "And it's probably a zillion calories. He's been brainwashed."
"You know what?" Dinah got a determined look on her face. "He's a loser. We're better off without him."
"Agreed!" Hanna crowed drunkenly, feeling a surge of confidence. "And he really is a loser. Guess what he'd doing tonight? He's going caroling with a group of people from his church/ they sing super-religious songs and probably reenact the Nativity scene or something. It's a Wednesday tradition."
"Seriously?" Dinah made a face.
"Uh-huh. And I was going to crash it." Hanna paused to drink the res of her vodka-cranberry. "Apparently, Vince is looking for a goo church girl to settle down with. But forget it. He's not worth the time."
"Good plan." Dinah nodded determinedly. "Let's grab some dinner instead. Vince will be singing, and we'll be having fun."
"Deal," Hanna said, giving her a high five. Then she giggled. "You know, Vince will probably make all of the Carole's drink AminoSpa between songs."
Dinah almost spit out her drinking laughing. "He probably wrote a carol about AminoSpa!"
"He's probably going to try and sell it door to door while they sing it in German!" Hanna giggled, picturing it.
They doubled over in hysterics, eliciting a few strange looks from everyone around them. But Hanna didn't care. She didn't care that she'd just let Vince go, either. She'd made a new friend. Maybe that was what she'd wanted all along.