Sara Shepard - Wicked

Spencer thought of her Ali dream again. She’d been standing right next to Ali by those very same bike racks. Younger Ali had turned to her, this same fragile expression on her face. Both Alis wanted Spencer to uncover something. Maybe something that was very close.

You shouldn’t have thrown it away, Spencer, both of them chanted. It was all there. Everything you need. It’s up to you, Spencer. You have to fix this.

But what had she recently thrown away? How could she fix it?

Suddenly, Spencer pulled away from Andrew. “The trash bag.”

“Wha—?” Andrew seemed disoriented.

Spencer looked out the back window. The grief counselor had made them bury all that Ali crap last Saturday—essentially throwing it away. Was that what the two Alis in her dream had meant? Could there be something in there that would solve everything?

“Oh my God,” Spencer whispered, jerkily standing.

“What?” Andrew asked again, standing up too. “What is it?”

Spencer glanced at Andrew, then out the window toward the barn, where they’d buried the Ali trash bag. It was a long shot, but she had to make sure. “Tell Officer Wilden to come look for me if I’m not back in ten minutes,” she said hurriedly as she tore out of the room, leaving a very bewildered Andrew behind.

By the time Hanna and Lucas got to the Hastingses’ house, the grand living room was packed with people. A string quartet had just finished playing, and a jazz band was setting up. Waitresses offered appetizers, and bartenders poured Scotches, G&Ts, and big glasses of red wine. Hanna could smell alcohol on almost everyone’s breath. They were all probably horrified that this Ian thing was even happening. Before Ali had disappeared, the most crime anyone in Rosewood ever saw was when one of their neighbors quietly got audited by the IRS.

Lucas undid the lens cap on his Olympus SLR camera—he was covering the event for the Rosewood Day newspaper. “Do you want me to get you a drink?”

“Not yet,” Hanna said, thinking about all the empty calories in alcohol. She ran her fingers nervously over her lipstick-red, chiffon-and-silk Catherine Malandrino party dress. Last week, the silk band around her waist had fit perfectly, but now it was the teensiest bit snug. She’d made herself scarce all day, trying to ignore Kate, Naomi, and Riley’s constant calls and texts, all invitations to the pre-party primping session at Naomi’s house. Finally, Hanna had answered, saying she was too upset about Ian skipping town to pre-party.

“Oh, kids, hi.” Mrs. Hastings rushed over to them, looking irritated that they were here. “The young people are in the library. This way.”

She began steering them toward the library, as if they were pesky clutter that needed to be stuffed into a closet. Hanna shot Lucas a helpless look. She wasn’t ready to face Kate. “Don’t you need to take photos of the adults?” she squeaked desperately.

“We have a society photographer for that,” Mrs. Hastings snapped. “You just take pictures of your friends.”

As soon as Mrs. Hastings threw open the library’s big double doors, someone cried, “Oh, shit.” There were whispers and a flurry of activity, and then the entire room looked up at Spencer’s mom with big I’m not drinking smiles on their faces. A Quaker school girl quickly slid off Noel Kahn’s lap. Mike Montgomery tried to hide his wineglass behind his back. Sean Ackard—who probably wasn’t drinking—was talking to Gemma Curran. Kate, Naomi, and Riley were holding court in the corner. Kate was in a white strapless gown; Naomi wore a multicolored, knee-length halter dress; and Riley wore the green Foley + Corinna Hanna had picked out for her in Teen Vogue .

Mrs. Hastings closed the door again, and everyone brought out their bottles, glasses, and champagne flutes. Kate, Naomi, and Riley hadn’t seen her yet, but in seconds, they would.

It’s almost time! Kate had cackled. I can’t wait!

Lucas noticed Kate and the others across the room. “Should we go say hi?”

Kate’s head was now bent toward Naomi’s ear. Then they both broke away and laughed raucously. Hanna made no effort to move.

“Aren’t you going to go talk to them?” Lucas asked.

Hanna stared at her Dior sling-backs. “I’ve changed my mind about Kate.”

Lucas’s eyebrows raised so high, they practically merged with his hairline.

“I don’t think she’s what she seems,” Hanna added.

She could feel Lucas’s eyes on her, waiting for an explanation. “She tried to destroy my relationship with my dad back in the fall,” she whispered, pulling him into the far corner. “This whole let’s be friends thing…I think I jumped into it way too soon. It’s all been too easy. I’ve been enemies with Naomi and Riley for years, and suddenly everything’s perfect between us, just because Kate’s here?” She shook her head forcefully. “Uh-uh. This is not how it works.”

Lucas narrowed his eyes. “That’s not how what works?”

“I think Kate’s up to something,” Hanna explained, gritting her teeth as Noel Kahn shouted at James Freed to chug the rest of a bottle of vodka. “And I think she, Naomi, and Riley are banding together to ruin me for good. But I have to figure out a way to call Kate out on it first. I have to figure out a way to get her before she gets me.”

Lucas stared at her. The jazz band in the living room was a few measures into their next number before he spoke again. “This is because of Mona, right?” Lucas’s voice softened. “I understand that you might think every person you become friends with after her is going to ruin you. But they’re not, Hanna. No one wants to hurt you. Seriously.”

Hanna fought the urge to stomp her pointy heel. How dare he patronize her! She’d been considering telling him about Maybe-Not-So-Faux A, too—but not now. He’d probably patronize her about that as well. “This isn’t some paranoid little thing in my head,” she said angrily. “It has nothing to do with Mona and everything to do with Kate. What about that don’t you get?”

Lucas blinked rapidly. A disappointed feeling washed over Hanna. He didn’t get it because this wasn’t his world. Suddenly, Hanna realized how different she and Lucas really were.

She sighed. “This is popularity we’re talking about, Lucas,” she said in an overly simplistic voice. “It’s very…calculated. It’s not something you’d understand.”

Lucas’s eyes widened. He pressed himself against the French doors. “I wouldn’t understand because I’m not popular, right? Well, sorry, Hanna. Sorry I’m not cool enough for you.”

He waved his hand dismissively and stalked to the window. A sour, oily taste filled Hanna’s mouth. She’d just made things worse.

Kate’s thin arm shot up through the crowd. “Omigod, Hanna ! You’re here!”

Hanna whipped her head around. Naomi and Riley were waving her over too, their smiles wide. It would look ridiculous if she just turned around and walked away, after she’d so obviously seen them. At least she was in her own dress tonight, and not some seam-popping thing Mona had sent her.

Steeling herself, Hanna slowly walked toward them. Naomi moved over, clearing a space for Hanna on the big leather couch. “Where have you been?” she asked, giving Hanna an enormous hug.

“Oh, around,” Hanna said vaguely. Across the room, Lucas was watching her. She looked away fast.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Kate said, her eyes solemn and serious. “This whole Ian thing is scary. I totally don’t blame you for going MIA.”