Sara Shepard - Wicked

“Well, we’re so glad you’re here now,” Naomi said. “You missed an awesome pre-party.” She bent down and whispered into Hanna’s ear. “Both Eric Kahn and Mason Byers came. They’re both totally into Kate.”

Hanna licked her lips, shrugging, not really wanting to get into an actual conversation. But Kate was now fluffing the chiffon hem of Hanna’s dress. “Naomi took me to the best boutique called Otter yesterday, which is where I got this.” She pointed to the bold Swarovski crystal pendant around her neck. “We wanted you to come too, but you weren’t picking up your phone.” She stuck out her lip in a pout. “ But we’ll have to go next week, right? They have these super-dark William Rast jeans there that would look so cute on you.”

“Uh-huh,” Hanna mumbled. “Sure.” She reached for a wine bottle that was tucked behind one of the chairs. Unfortunately, it was empty.

“Here, have the rest of my glass,” Kate said quickly, handing over her half-filled goblet. “I’m buzzed from the pre-party anyway.”

Hanna stared dizzily into Kate’s glass, the dark red wine reminding her of blood. It’ll work, Kate had whispered. It’s almost time! I can’t wait! So what the hell was all this friendliness? Was it possible Hanna had made a mistake?

And then it hit her. Of course. Kate was fake-friending her. Hanna felt silly for not realizing it before.

The rules of fake-friending were simple. If Hanna wanted to get revenge on someone for something she had done to Mona, she acted as if she and Mona were fighting, infiltrated the other girl’s group, and bided her time until she could stab the girl in the back. Maybe Mona had told Kate about fake-friending back when she’d become A.

Eric Kahn walked over and plopped down on a big paisley cushion on the floor next to the couch. He was taller and lankier than Noel, but had the same big, brown eyes and toothy smile. “Hey, Hanna,” he said. “Where have you been hiding this pretty stepsister of yours?”

“You make it sound like she had me stuffed in a closet,” Kate giggled, her eyes sparkling.

“Did you?” Eric asked Hanna, which made Kate giggle even harder.

Noel and Mason sat down, too, and Mike Montgomery and his date crowded in next to Riley and Naomi. There were so many people around them, Hanna couldn’t get up if she tried. She searched the room for Lucas, but he had vanished.

Eric leaned forward, stroking Kate’s wrist. “So, how long have you girls known each other?”

Kate looked at Hanna, thinking. “I guess…four years ago, was it? We were in seventh grade. But we didn’t speak for a long time. Hanna only came to my house in Annapolis once. I think she was too cool for me—she brought Alison DiLaurentis. Remember that huge lunch we had, Hanna?”

Kate gave Hanna a wide, smirking smile, Hanna’s binging secret probably on the tip of her tongue. Hanna felt like she was on a roller coaster that was slowly climbing to the top of a hill. Any minute now, it would spill down the other side, and she’d lose her stomach…and her reputation.

Fake-friending is simple, Mona probably said to Kate, as if she already knew that one day, Kate and Hanna would be forced to live under the same roof. Just get one little secret from Hanna. That’s all it’ll take to ruin her for good.

She thought of A’s note, too. Ruin her before she ruins you.

“Did you guys know Kate has herpes?” Hanna blurted out. It didn’t even sound like her voice, but the voice of someone who was far meaner.

Everyone looked up sharply. Wine spewed out of Mike Montgomery’s mouth onto the carpet. Eric Kahn quickly dropped Kate’s hand.

“She told me earlier this week,” Hanna went on, a toxic, black feeling metastasizing through her body. “Some guy gave it to her in Annapolis. You should probably know that, Eric, before you try and get in her pants.”

“Hanna,” Kate whispered desperately. Her face had turned as white as her gown. “What are you doing?”

Hanna smiled smugly. You were going to do the same thing to me, bitch. Noel Kahn took another big swig of wine, shuddering. Naomi and Riley glanced at each other uneasily and stood up. “Is that true?” Mike Montgomery wrinkled his nose. “Nasty.”

“It’s not true,” Kate squealed, looking around at everyone. “Really, guys, Hanna just made that up!”

But the damage was already done. “Ugh,” someone whispered behind them.

“Valtrex,” James Freed coughed into his hand. Kate stood up. Everyone took another big step away from her, as if the herpes virus could jump off her body and onto theirs.

Kate shot Hanna a horrified look. “Why did you just do that?”

“‘It’s almost time,’” Hanna recited in a monotone voice. “‘I can’t wait.’”

Kate gawked at her, confused. Then she took a few steps back, fumbling for the library door. When she slammed it shut, the crystals on the chandelier tinkled together melodically.

Someone gradually turned the music back up. “Wow,” Naomi murmured, sidling up to Hanna. “No wonder you haven’t wanted to spend time with her the past couple days.”

“So who’s the guy who gave it to her?” Riley whispered, instantly at Naomi’s side.

“I knew there was something skanky about her,” Naomi sneered.

Hanna brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. She’d expected to feel amazing and powerful, but instead she felt kind of shitty. Something about what had just happened seemed a little…off. She set Kate’s wineglass down on the floor and started for the door, just wanting to get out of there. Only, someone was blocking her way.

Lucas glowered at her, his lips small and pursed. It was obvious he’d seen everything. “Oh,” Hanna said in a meek voice. “Hi.”

Lucas crossed his arms over his chest. There was a sour look on his face. “Bravo, Hanna. I guess you got her before she got you, huh?”

“You don’t understand,” Hanna protested. She took a step toward him to put her arm around his shoulders, but Lucas held up his hand to stop her.

“I understand completely,” he said icily. “And I think I liked you better when you weren’t popular. When you were just…normal.” He slung his camera back around his neck and walked toward the door.

“Lucas, wait!” Hanna cried, stunned.

Lucas stopped in the middle of the enormous Oriental rug. There were a few strands of dog hair on his dark suit jacket—he’d probably snuggled with his Saint Bernard, Clarissa, after he got dressed. All of a sudden, Hanna loved him for not caring about looking perfect. She loved him for not caring about popularity. She loved him for every dorky thing he did.

“I’m sorry.” Hanna’s eyes filled with tears, not caring that everyone was watching.

Lucas’s face was stony and impassive. “We’re done, Hanna.” He turned the doorknob that led to the foyer.

“Lucas!” Hanna beseeched, her heart lurching. But he was gone.

Aria stood in front of an enormous oil portrait of Spencer’s great-great-great-grandfather Duncan Hastings, a debonair man awkwardly clutching a floppy-eared, sad-eyed beagle in his lap. Duncan had the same exact ski-slope nose Spencer did, and it looked like he was wearing women’s rings on his fingers. Rich people were so weird.

Aria supposed she should be in the library with the rest of her peers—Mrs. Hastings had all but shoved her in there when she’d arrived. But what did she really have to say to a bunch of prissy Typical Rosewood Girls in designer gowns and Cartier jewels they’d stolen out of their mothers’ trousseaus? Did she really want them judging the long, black, backless silk dress she was wearing? And did she really want to put up with drunken Noel and all his touchy-feely cronies? She’d rather hang out here with good old grumpy Duncan, getting drunk on top-shelf gin.