Wicked (4 page)

Wrong. When Hanna returned to Philadelphia, surprise! Kate had tattled instead
and
told Mr. Marin that Hanna was carrying around a bunch of Percocet in her purse. Mr. Marin had been so angry, he’d cut the trip short…and hadn’t spoken to Hanna for weeks.

“Of course Hanna will show you around,” Mr. Marin piped up.

Hanna clenched her fists under the table and tried for a dismayed tone. “Oh, wow, I’d love to, but my school day is
so
jam-packed!”

Her father cocked an eyebrow. “What about before school or at lunch?”

Hanna sucked her teeth.
Way to sell me out, Dad.
Had her father forgotten that Kate had stabbed Hanna in the back at their disastrous dinner at Le Bec-Fin in Philadelphia this fall—the dinner that was supposed to be for Hanna and her dad
only
? But then, her dad hadn’t seen it that way. In his mind, Kate wasn’t a backstabber. She was
perfect.
Hanna looked back and forth from her father to Isabel to Kate, feeling more and more helpless. All at once, she felt a familiar tickle rising in the back of her throat. Pushing back her chair, she stood up, let out a grunt, and stumbled to the downstairs bathroom.

She hung over the sink and dry-heaved.
Don’t do this,
she told herself. She’d been so good about the purging thing the past few months, but it was like Kate was a trigger. The very first time Hanna had puked on command was the one and only time Hanna had visited her father, Isabel, and Kate in Annapolis. She’d brought Ali along, and Ali and Kate had gotten along instantly—that pretty-girl bond or something—while Hanna shoveled handful after handful of popcorn into her mouth, feeling fat and hideous. Her dad calling her a little piggy had been the last straw. She’d run into the bathroom, snatched Kate’s toothbrush from a cup by the sink, and forced herself to vomit.

Ali had walked in as Hanna was in the middle of her second heave. She’d promised Hanna her secret was safe with her, but Hanna had learned a lot about Ali between then and now. Ali kept a lot of secrets from a lot of people—and had played people against each other. Like how she’d told Hanna and the others that they’d caused The Jenna Thing when really, Jenna and Ali had orchestrated it all along. Hanna wouldn’t have been surprised to learn that Ali had marched back out to the patio that day and told Kate everything.

After a few minutes the sick feeling passed. Hanna took a deep breath, stood back up, and reached into her pocket for her BlackBerry. She opened up a new text message.
You won’t believe this,
she typed.
My dad wants me to be the Rosewood Day Welcome Wagon for Psycho Kate. Can we do emergency mani-pedis tomorrow a.m. to discuss?

She was halfway through scrolling down her Contacts list when she realized she had no one to send the text to. Mona had been the only person she’d gotten mani-pedis with.

“Hanna?”

Hanna whirled around. Her father had cracked the bathroom door open a couple inches. His eyebrows were crinkled in concern. “Are you okay?” he asked, using a gentle tone of voice Hanna hadn’t heard in so long.

Mr. Marin stepped closer and put his hand on Hanna’s shoulder. Hanna swallowed hard, ducking her head. Back when she was in seventh grade, before her parents divorced, she and her dad had been really close. It had broken her heart when he’d left Rosewood after the divorce, and when he’d moved in with Isabel and Kate, Hanna had worried that he’d traded ugly, chubby, poop-brown-haired Hanna for pretty, skinny, perfect Kate. A few months ago, when Hanna was in the hospital after Mona hit her with her SUV, her dad had promised to be a bigger part of Hanna’s life. But in the week her dad had been here, he’d been too busy helping redecorate the house according to Isabel’s tastes—lots of velvet and tassels—to make much time for her.

But maybe he was going to apologize for all that. Maybe he was going to apologize for dropping her cold this past fall without getting her side of the story…and for dropping Hanna for Isabel and Kate for three whole
years.

Mr. Marin patted her arm awkwardly. “Listen. This fall has been terrible for you. And I know testifying at Ian’s trial on Friday must be creating stress for you. And I realize that Kate and Isabel moving here was a little…abrupt. But Hanna, this is a huge life change for Kate. She abandoned her friends in Annapolis to move here, and you’ve barely spoken to her. You need to start treating her like family.”

Hanna’s smile drooped. It felt like her father had conked her over the head with the mint green soap holder on the porcelain sink. Kate certainly did
not
need Hanna’s help, not one bit. Kate was like Ali: graceful, beautiful, the object of everyone’s attention…and incredibly manipulative.

But as her dad lowered his chin, waiting for her to agree with him, Hanna realized there were two little words he’d left off of his last statement. Two words that were very indicative of how things were going to be around here from now on.

Hanna needed to start treating Kate like family…
or else.

3

ARIA’S ART SCENE DEBUT

“Oh, ew.” Aria Montgomery wrinkled her nose as her brother, Mike, dipped a piece of bread into a ceramic cauldron of molten Swiss cheese. He swirled the bread around the bowl, pulled it out, and licked up a long, gooey string of cheese that hung off the fork. “Do you have to turn everything into a sexual act?”

Mike smirked at her and kept making out with the bread. Aria shuddered.

Aria couldn’t believe that it was the very last day of a very weird winter break. Aria and Mike’s mother, Ella, had decided to treat them to homemade cheese fondue with the fondue set she’d found in the basement under some boxes of glass Christmas ornaments and Mike’s Hot Wheels racetrack. Aria was almost positive the set had been a wedding present for Ella and Aria’s father, Byron, but she didn’t dare ask. She’d tried to avoid all references to her father—such as the weird hours she and Mike had spent with him and his girlfriend, Meredith, at the Bear Claw ski slope on Christmas Eve. Meredith had sat in the lodge the whole time, doing yoga stretches, nursing her small-but-obviously-pregnant stomach, and begging Aria to teach her how to knit a pair of baby booties. Aria’s parents had only officially separated a few months ago, at least partly because Mona-as-A had sent Ella a letter telling her that Byron was cheating on her with Meredith, and Aria was pretty sure Ella hadn’t gotten over Byron yet.

Mike eyed Ella’s bottle of Heineken. “You sure I can’t have one little sip?”

“No,” Ella answered. “For the third time.”

Mike frowned. “I’ve had beer before, you know.”

“Not in this house.” Ella glared at him.

“Why do you want beer so badly?” Aria asked curiously. “Is Mikey nervous about his first date?”

“It’s not a date.” Mike pulled his Burton snowboard beanie lower down on his forehead. “She’s just a friend.”

Aria smiled knowingly. Amazingly, a girl had fallen for Mike. Her name was Savannah, and she was a sophomore at the public school. They’d met in a Facebook group about—big surprise—lacrosse. Apparently Savannah was as obsessed with the game as Mike was.

“Mikey’s going on a date at the mall,” Aria singsonged. “So are you going to get a second dinner at the food court? Mr. Wong’s Great Wall of Chicken?”

“Shut up,” Mike snapped. “We’re going to Rive Gauche for dessert. But dude, it’s
not
a date. I mean, she goes to public school.” He said
public school
like others would say
sewage-filled pit of leeches.
“I only date girls with money.”

Aria narrowed her eyes. “You’re disgusting.”

“Watch it, Shakespeare-lover.” Mike smirked.

Aria paled.
Shakespeare
was Mike’s nickname for Ezra Fitz, Aria’s quasi–ex-boyfriend—
and
ex–AP English teacher. It was the other secret Mona-as-A had tormented her about. The media had tactfully kept all their A secrets private, but Aria suspected Mike had found out about Ezra from Noel Kahn, his lacrosse teammate and Rosewood Day’s biggest gossip. Aria had made Mike swear never to tell Ella, but he couldn’t resist dropping a few hints.

Ella speared a piece of bread. “I might have a date coming up, too,” she suddenly blurted.

Aria lowered her long fondue fork. She couldn’t have been more stunned if Ella just told her she was moving back to Reykjavík, Iceland, where her family had spent the past three years. “What? When?”

Ella fiddled with her chunky turquoise necklace. “Tuesday.”

“With who?”

Ella ducked her head, revealing a thin strip of gray roots at her scalp. “Just someone I’ve been talking to on Match.com. He sounds nice…but who knows? It’s not like I know that much about him. We’ve talked mostly about music. We both like the Rolling Stones.”

Aria shrugged. As seventies rock went, she was more of a Velvet Underground girl—Mick Jagger was thinner than she was, and Keith Richards was downright terrifying. “So what does he do?”

Ella smiled sheepishly. “I actually have no idea. All I know is that his name is Wolfgang.”

“Wolfgang?”
Aria almost spit out a bite of bread. “As in Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart?”

Ella’s face was getting more and more flushed. “Maybe I won’t go.”

“No, no, you should!” Aria cried. “I think it’s great!” And she
was
happy for Ella. Why should her father have all the fun? “
I
think it’s gross,” Mike piped up. “It should be illegal for people over forty to date.”

Aria ignored him. “What are you going to wear?”

Ella stared down at her favorite eggplant-colored tunic. It had floral embroidery around the neck and what looked like a scrambled egg stain near the hem. “What’s wrong with this?”

Aria widened her eyes and shook her head.

“I got it in that sweet little fishing village in Denmark last year,” Ella protested. “You were with me! That old woman with no teeth sold it to us.”

“We have to get you something else,” Aria demanded. “And re-dye your hair. And let
me
do your makeup.” She squinted, envisioning her mother’s bathroom counter. Usually it was cluttered with watercolor paints, tins of turpentine, and half-finished jewelry projects. “Do you even
own
makeup?”

Ella took another long sip of her beer. “Shouldn’t he like me for who I am without all that…embellishment?”

“It’ll still be you. Just better,” Aria encouraged.

Mike swiveled back and forth between them, then brightened. “You know what
I
think makes women look better? Implants!”

Ella gathered their plates and carried them to the sink. “Fine,” she said to Aria. “I’ll let you give me a makeover for my date, okay? But now I have to drive Mike to
his
date.”

“It’s not a
date
!” Mike whined, stomping out of the room and up the stairs.

Aria and Ella snickered. Once he was gone, they regarded each other shyly, something warm and unspoken passing between them. The last few months hadn’t been particularly easy. Mona-as-A had also told Ella that Aria had kept her father’s secret for three long years, and for a while, Ella had been too disgusted to even let her daughter in the house. Eventually, she’d forgiven Aria, and they were working hard on getting their relationship back to normal. They weren’t quite there yet. There were a lot of things Aria still couldn’t mention; they still hardly spent any time alone; and Ella hadn’t confided in Aria once, which she used to do all the time. But it was getting better every day.

Ella raised an eyebrow and reached into her tunic’s kangaroo pocket. “I just remembered.” She pulled out a rectangular card with three intersecting blue lines on the front. “I was supposed to go to this art opening tonight, but I don’t have time. You want to go instead?”

“I don’t know.” Aria shrugged. “I’m tired.”

“Go,” Ella urged. “You’ve been too cooped up lately. No more being miserable.”

Aria opened her mouth to protest, but Ella had a point. She’d spent the whole winter break in her bedroom, knitting scarves and absently flicking the Shakespeare bobblehead Ezra had given her before he left Rosewood in November. Every day she thought she’d hear something from him—an e-mail, a text,
anything
—especially since so much about Rosewood, Ali, and even Aria herself had been on the news. The months slid by…and nothing.

She pressed the corner of the invitation into the pit of her palm. If Ella was brave enough to get back into the world, then so was she. And there was no better time to start than right now.

On her way to the art opening, Aria had to pass Ali’s old street. There was her house, same as it had been earlier that day. Spencer’s house was next door, and the Cavanaughs’ was across the street. Aria wondered if Jenna was inside, getting ready for her first day back at Rosewood Day. She’d heard that Jenna would be having private, all-day tutoring sessions.

A day didn’t go by when Aria didn’t think about the last—and only—time she and Jenna had spoken. It had been at the Hollis art studio, when Aria had had a panic attack during a thunderstorm. Aria had tried to apologize once and for all for what they’d done to her that horrible night when Jenna was blinded, but Jenna explained that she and Ali had conspired together to launch the firework to get rid of Jenna’s stepbrother, Toby, for good. Ali had agreed to the plan because, apparently, she had sibling problems too.

For a while, Aria obsessed over what
sibling problems
meant. Toby used to touch Jenna inappropriately—could Ali’s brother, Jason, have been doing the same thing to Ali? But Aria hated to think that way. She’d never sensed anything weird between Ali and Jason. He’d always seemed so protective.

And then it hit Aria.
Of course.
Ali didn’t have problems with Jason; she’d simply made that up as a way to earn Jenna’s trust and get her to spill what was going on. She’d done the same thing with Aria, acting all empathetic and devastated when she and Aria had caught Bryon and Meredith making out in the Hollis parking lot. Once she knew Aria’s secret, Ali had held it over Aria’s head for months. And she’d done the same thing to her other friends. Only, why had Ali cared about something dorky Jenna Cavanaugh was hiding?