Sara Shepard - Crushed

When something in her bag bleated, she plunged her hand inside again, praying it was Mike. But it was her old phone. It had auto-logged onto the Bill Beach WiFi and downloaded a new e-mail from Agent Fuji. On instinct, Hanna deleted the message without even reading it.

She stomped through the double doors, threw on her scrubs, and kicked the mop bucket down the hall toward Graham’s partitioned-off area. She whipped back his curtains, not caring who saw her. Graham’s eyes were closed, but his mouth was working hard. Hanna pressed her ear close to his lips, but no sound came out.

“Just tell me who you saw,” Hanna growled, wanting to shake him. Couldn’t they, for once, get a freaking break? They could nail A and get Fuji off their backs. They could clear up this nonsense with the painting in Aria’s closet. She could make things right with Mike, too.

But Graham didn’t make a sound. Hanna was so annoyed she stomped her foot hard. Her sole clacked loudly on the linoleum.

“Hanna?” a voice called out. “Everything okay?”

Hanna turned around. Kyla sat up in bed, the bandages still covering her face. There was a pot of nail polish and an emery board in her lap.

“Actually, no,” Hanna admitted.

Kyla made an mm noise. “Guy trouble?”

Hanna walked closer. “How did you know?”

“I heard you on the phone the other day,” Kyla said with a shrug. “So what did he do?”

“He won’t go to prom with me,” Hanna said miserably. “It’s a huge misunderstanding, and he thinks I’m lying about something—but I’m not. He’s being an idiot.”

“So explain it to him,” Kyla said.

“It’s not that easy,” Hanna sighed. She opened her mouth to try to tell Kyla why, but then a wave of exhaustion washed over her.

“In that case, this will make you feel better.”

Kyla groped for something on the little tray next to her bed. She handed Hanna a small picture in a frame. It was a shot of the Hot Male Nurse in the changing room without a shirt on. Hanna snickered. “Where’d you get this?”

“One of the orderlies took it with my phone.” Kyla sounded proud of herself. “I uploaded it to the Kodak site and had it printed at the gift shop. But you should have it, Hanna. You need the pick-me-up more than I do.”

“Thanks, but that’s okay.” Hanna studied Kyla’s bandages and withered arms and legs. A ridiculous feeling washed over her. Here she was, making a burn victim cheer her up. Had she lost all perspective?

She leaned in closer, suddenly dying to know. “What happened to you?”

Kyla fiddled with the jar of nail polish. “My brother and I were messing around in the garage when a can of sulfuric acid fell off a shelf . . . and onto me. That stuff works just like flames—burns your skin right off.”

Hanna winced. “Is your whole face . . . ?” She trailed off, not knowing how to word it.

“Gone? Messed up?” Kyla finished. She shook her head. “My cheeks are a mess. My chin, too. I need a lot of skin grafts, but you can’t do them all at once. I wasn’t as pretty as you, but I was okay-looking. Popular, even. But not anymore, huh? When I bust out of here, it’s gonna be, Here comes freak show! ”

She was trying to sound so brave and tough. Hanna’s heart clenched. How would she treat a girl like Kyla at Rosewood Day? The Old Hanna who’d been Ali’s and Mona’s friend would have been ruthless. But what about the girl she was today? Was this Hanna any better?

She touched a bare spot on Kyla’s arm. “Listen. When you get these bandages off, I want to give you a makeover. Hair, makeup, skin, jewelry, fashion, everything. I’m really good at that sort of stuff, I promise.”

Kyla made a strange noise at the back of her throat. “Why would you do that?”

Hanna leaned closer. “Because you’re the coolest girl I’ve met in a long time. People need to see that, you know? They need to look past some stupid scars and grafts. You’re Kyla, and you’re fabulous. Got it?”

Kyla laughed softly. “Okay,” she said after a moment. “You’re amazing, Hanna.”

“I know, I’m awesome,” Hanna said lightly. But she really did feel good. She couldn’t wait to pick out Kyla’s colors and do her hair. And who knew? Maybe Kyla’s scars wouldn’t be that bad. Maybe Sean’s dad could work some kind of miracle.

Her phone bleated, startling Hanna so that she almost dropped it on the floor. Mike’s number flashed on the screen. She stared at Kyla in amazement.

“Is it him?” Kyla whispered. Hanna nodded. “Well, answer it!” Kyla cried.

Hanna swallowed hard and turned away. “ Thank you for calling me back,” Hanna said into the phone. She scurried to the break room, even though she wasn’t on break yet, and flopped down on one of the couches. “Like I said, I can explain. The truth is, I really have been volunteering at the burn clinic. I’m here right now.”

Mike sighed. “Hanna, at least tell me a better lie. You hate the burn clinic. You would never voluntarily work there again.”

“I’m telling the truth.” Hanna picked at a loose thread on the upholstery. “The guy who got hurt in the blast is here—Graham. There’s something you don’t know: Just before that explosion went off, he chased Aria into the boiler room. They were both there when the bomb went off—Aria’s lucky she got out safe. We wanted to ask him some questions about it when he wakes up.”

She held her breath, wondering if Mike would buy her half-true story . . . and hoping her friends didn’t kill her for spilling some of it. Mike breathed in. “Aria never told me she was down there.”

“I know. She was afraid you’d freak.”

“Do you really think it’s a good idea to talk to this guy? He set off the bomb, right? What if he’s dangerous?”

“Mike, he’s covered in bandages and tubes—he’s not going to do anything. As for the bomb—I don’t really know. There was another person down there, too, at the time—it could have been him instead. That’s what I want to ask Graham about— if he wakes up.” She paused, then decided to ask: “Actually, do you remember where Noel was when the bomb went off? It would have been right when the talent show was about to start.”

There was a long pause. “Are you suggesting Noel bombed the boiler room?” Mike sounded horrified. “What drugs are you on, Hanna? He’s her boyfriend!”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m just asking questions.”

Mike sighed. “Well, Noel and I were practicing our routine an hour before the talent show. But—okay. Right before the bomb, he said he had to go back to his room. So I don’t know where he was, technically.” There was a clunking sound on the other end. “Does Noel know you’re asking these questions?”

“No, and I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell him,” Hanna said sharply, her heart pounding hard.

“I still don’t believe that’s why you’re at the burn clinic, though.”

Hanna stomped her foot. “Ask your sister, okay? But one thing’s for sure: I’m definitely, definitely not with Sean. I didn’t even know he’d be working here when I signed up. And he and my stepsister go to V Club together. Is that enough? Will you take me to prom?”

“Hmm,” Mike said, still sounding miffed. “I’ll have to check your sources.”

Hanna rolled her eyes. Why was he being such a hard-ass? “Who told you about me being here, anyway?”

Mike cleared his throat. “It doesn’t matter. He was just trying to be a good buddy.”

The hairs on Hanna’s arms stood on end. He? “Just tell me who. I won’t be mad.”

“Hanna, drop it. We’ll go to the dance, okay? I have to get off. I’m getting in my car.” And then, with a click , Mike was gone.