“Then we have a plan.” Mr. Marin’s gray eyes canvassed her face. “Oh, Hanna. I almost lost you.”
There was a huge lump in Hanna’s throat. You did lose me, she wanted to remind him. He lost her when he up and left Hanna and her mom, found Isabel, and started a new life. But whatever. Maybe that didn’t matter anymore.
Mr. Marin opened his arms. “Come here.”
Hanna hugged him and laid her chin on his chest, inhaling the smell of detergent and soap. She smiled into his scratchy sweater. Here was the release she’d been waiting for after they confessed to the police. Nothing felt snagged in her brain anymore. No troubles poked her like splinters, stopping her in her tracks.
But then something caught her eye out the window. She turned just as a shadow slipped out of sight. Had it been Ali, listening? Helper A, monitoring? Then she remembered it didn’t matter if they were. She stood up straighter and stared through the glass, then stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes. Take that, she mouthed.
It felt so frickin’ good.
13
THE WINGED HORSE
That Wednesday night, Emily changed into a Marple Newtown Relay Carnival T-shirt and a pair of Victoria’s Secret Pink sweats, her favorite pajama combo. Just as she was pulling back the covers of her twin bed, she felt a presence in the doorway. She yelped and whirled around, half certain it was A. Carolyn backed away.
“God, it’s just me,” her sister said, sounding offended.
“Sorry,” Emily said quickly. “I guess I was off in another world.”
They stood silently for a few beats. Emily expected Carolyn to move on down the hall—Carolyn was sleeping in the guest room while she was here, so they were no longer sharing the space—but she remained where she was. Emily shifted. Should she invite her in? They weren’t exactly fighting now . . . but were they friends? Last night after dinner, Emily had retreated to the den and turned on a snowboard competition on NBC Extreme, Carolyn’s favorite channel. Carolyn had sat down next to her, but they hadn’t said a single word through the entire competition, not even when one of the contestants took a scary-looking tumble off the ramp. That was their big sisterly bonding time?
Now Carolyn leaned against the doorjamb. “So I was thinking about going to a bar.”
Emily was so surprised that she sat down on the bed. “Now?”
Carolyn set her mouth in a line. “Don’t sound so excited. I thought we could hang, but forget it.”
“Carolyn!” Emily whined, springing up from the bed. “Wait! A bar . . . with alcohol?” At the Rosewood Day French Festival last year, which was held during lunch, the school had allowed the students to sample a glass of wine each, provided no one drove anywhere. Carolyn had abstained even from that, opting for Dr Pepper.
She caught her sister’s arm. “I’ll go to a bar with you. Which one?”
Carolyn stepped into the bathroom. “It’s a surprise. Meet me in ten minutes. We’ll go out the back door and take the minivan. It’s in the driveway.”
Emily raised an eyebrow. The back door was farther from their parents’ bedroom—they wouldn’t hear. Same with taking the car in the driveway: They always heard a car start in the garage. Was goody-goody, rule-abiding Carolyn sneaking out?
Her sister shut the bathroom door before Emily could ask. She smiled to herself, wondering what she was in for. Then again, did she really care? She was just happy her sister was making the effort after so, so long.
“Pegasus?” Emily blurted thirty minutes later as Carolyn steered the minivan into a parking lot. In front of them was a long, squat building with floor-to-ceiling windows and a large, neon winged horse hanging over the front door. Three women in matching plaid shirts sashayed toward the entrance. Two skinny girls in miniskirts held hands in the window.
Emily and Carolyn were in a wooded neighborhood in West Hollis nicknamed The Purple Triangle . . . for obvious reasons. Emily had never dared go into Lilith’s Tomes, the lesbian bookshop; Closer to Fine, the lesbian teahouse; or Pegasus, the only lesbian bar in the area, but she’d always been curious. She didn’t think Carolyn even knew about this neighborhood, though.
Carolyn shifted into park. “There’s a cool singer tonight.” She started across the gravel lot toward the front door.
Emily scampered after her sister and grabbed her arm. “We can go to a regular bar in Hollis. We don’t have to go here.”
Carolyn’s eyebrows made a V. “My roommate at Stanford is gay. I’ve been to a lesbian bar in Palo Alto with her a bunch of times.”