by Sara Shepard
“It will be okay,” Noel had answered. “I promise.”
Hanna had had no idea what they were talking about at the time. But what if it had been something to do with her twin sister? Courtney, Their Ali, was still at the Radley then, but the switch had happened only days later. Maybe Ali had found out that Courtney was coming back. Maybe she’d been worried. And maybe she’d confided in Noel about everything.
And maybe, just maybe, Noel had promised to help her—in any way possible.
Everyone in the auditorium began to applaud as Principal Appleton stepped onto the stage. Hanna blinked hard and snapped out of the memory. The girls of the prom committee followed him. Aria pulled up the rear, looking fidgety, awkward, and out of place next to the smooth-haired, lip-glossed, Tory Burch bag–toting clones to her left. Hanna tried to catch her eye, but Aria wasn’t looking in her direction.
Appleton took the microphone. “It’s time to announce the May King and Queen.”
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.
“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.
<
br /> 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.
Emily turned into the long driveway and parked next to the four-car garage. “Are you going to be okay in the car for a sec?” she asked Iris. “I won’t be long, I promise.”
Iris slumped down in the seat and looked at a copy of Us Weekly she’d stolen from Wawa. “Why can’t you just get whatever it is from your friend at school?”
“Because, um, she’s sick,” Emily said stupidly.
Iris gave her a strange look, but Emily fled the car before she could ask anything else.
Spencer pulled her inside and once again led her down into the basement. Aria was already inside the panic room, pacing back and forth. And Hanna, who looked even more made-up and coiffed today, was sitting on the denim couch, looking at Aria plaintively. “So Mike didn’t ride to school with you? Do you know where he is right now? How can I talk to him if I can’t use my stupid cell phone?”
“He was at Byron’s last night—I was at Ella’s.” Aria looked apologetic. “What were you guys fighting about, anyway?”
“Guys, we don’t have much time,” Spencer interrupted, and everyone looked at her. “I got another note from Agent Fuji,” she continued worriedly, her eyes darting around the security screens. “She says there’s something we didn’t tell her. She wanted to talk to me.”
“She wants to talk to me, too!” Hanna whispered. “Are you going to?”
“What do you think?” Spencer looked horrified. “I deleted the message. I’m going to pretend I didn’t get it.”
Emily sat down next to Hanna. “Do you think A said something?”
Spencer sank to the metal swivel chair next to the monitors. “I don’t know. Has anyone heard from A?”
Hanna tentatively raised a hand. “A sent me a note. It was about prom, but A left it at the front desk of the burn clinic.”
Spencer widened her eyes. “So A knows you’ve been volunteering there?”
“I guess.” Hanna’s face was ashen. “But that doesn’t mean A knows why, right?”
“The only notes I got were the two about the painting investigation,” Aria said, perching on the couch’s arm. “Which is scary. They’ve opened the case back up. Maybe that’s what Fuji wants to talk to us about.”
Emily shifted worriedly. “Maybe A is pissed off because he or she doesn’t know our new cell numbers. Maybe he gave Fuji some intel as punishment.”
“That’s what I was worried about, too,” Spencer said. “What do you think A told Fuji?”
“Who knows?” Emily mumbled.
For a moment, no one said anything. On the monitors, Emily could see her Volvo parked at the curb. Iris turned a page of her magazine, looking like she was about to fall asleep.
Then Spencer pulled the suspects list out of her bag and pinned it to the wall. Quite a few names had been crossed off—all the girls. There was a wiggly line through Darren Wilden and a question mark next to Jason. Only Graham’s and Noel’s names were unmarked. Emily caught Aria staring at it. It wasn’t a surprise to her—last night, Emily had stopped over at her house to tell her they’d narrowed down the list to only guys. Aria opened her mouth to say something, then shut it fast.
“What?” Emily asked.
Aria shook her head. “Nothing.”
Emily cleared her throat. “So does anyone have any thoughts about who Ali might have met at Keppler Park?” She’d shared her discovery with Hanna and Aria last night.
Hanna shook her head. Aria cleared her throat awkwardly and turned away. “Nope.” Her voice squeaked.
Emily watched Aria’s face, but she gave nothing away. Spencer was watching, too. “Are you sure?” she pressed. “Maybe Noel has been there?”
Aria fiddled with the grommets on the couch. “I said I was sure, didn’t I? Noel isn’t A.”
“I know you don’t want to believe it, Aria,” Spencer said soothingly. “But the more we find out, the more sense Noel makes.”
Aria’s eyes flashed. “All we’ve found out is that A might be a guy and that Ali had a boyfriend. That could be anyone.”
“There’s more than that.” Spencer twirled the pen in her hands. “It tur
ns out that someone stole a bunch of prescription medications from the Bill Beach last spring. It might have been the person who was taking care of Ali.”
Aria wrinkled her nose. “So? Noel doesn’t have a connection to the Bill Beach. As far as I know, he’s never even been there.”
“He knows Sean, though,” Spencer pointed out. “They run in the same circles. Maybe Noel got Sean to slip him the passcode to get into the building.”
Aria burst out laughing. “Are we talking about the same Sean? He’d never do that.”
“True.” Hanna shoved her hands in her jacket pockets. “But, Aria, Noel was acting weird at the assembly yesterday. He asked if there was anything going on with you. Then he brought up Iceland out of the blue. Why would he do that?”
Aria pressed her lips together. “That is kind of strange,” she admitted. But then she shook her head vigorously. “It still doesn’t mean anything. I asked Noel about whether he sensed that the ‘Courtney’ who returned wasn’t who she said she was, and he got really upset and defensive. After that, there was no way I was going to ask him if he’d taken a little jaunt to Iceland to murder Olaf over winter break. We’ve hardly talked since. Don’t you guys see? A wants us to suspect Noel. A wants to ruin what Noel and I have. Then we’ll break up, it’s not going to be Noel, and A’s going to win again.”
“If that happens, you can blame us for everything,” Spencer said. “We’ll do everything in our power to get Noel back for you, okay? But can you please do a little more digging?”
“None of us want it to be Noel,” Emily added. “We’re not against you.”
Aria stood up from the couch. Her eyes were flinty and cold. “Fine,” she said gruffly. “I’ll see what I can do. But I’m not going to find anything, believe me.”
She whipped around, turned the handle of the panic room, and left. Emily heard her footsteps on the basement stairs and felt a twinge of regret. The last thing she wanted to do was pull their friendship apart. What if Aria was right—what if suspecting Noel, wrecking everything, was just part of A’s master plan?
