“Did you have any luck?”
Hanna almost wanted to laugh. “What do you think?”
Mike answered by squeezing her hand harder than ever before.
After the scanners, the legal team joined the girls, and they walked to the courtroom as a group. As soon as Mr. Goddard opened the double doors, a hundred heads turned around. Hanna recognized every face: There was Naomi Zeigler and Riley Wolfe. Boys from Mike’s lacrosse team and girls from Hanna’s old cheerleading squad. A girl named Dinah she’d met while doing a boot-camp program last Christmas. Sean Ackard, Sean’s father, Kelly from the burn clinic. Phi Templeton, Chassey Bledsoe, and then—horrifyingly—Mona Vanderwaal’s parents, both of them looking older and much more haggard since Mona’s death a year and a half before.
Everyone stared at Hanna as though she’d already been convicted. Hanna hadn’t felt this vulnerable since Mona-as-A had broadcast that video of Hanna’s court dress ripping at the seams at Mona’s Sweet Seventeen. Hanna leaned into Mike. “You don’t have to stand by me, you know. Save yourself. Go sit with your friends.”
Mike pinched her palm. “Shut up, Hanna.”
Mike held fast to her hand as they walked down the aisle to the front bench. Hanna sat next to her lawyer, the wood cold through her thin dress. Mike retreated to the bench behind her. Emily, Spencer, and Aria slid into the front bench as well. They all exchanged a glance, but no one bothered to say anything. The defeat was clear on their faces. They’d tried every avenue to find Ali, and they’d failed again and again.
The heavy doors slammed shut, and a bailiff ordered everyone to rise. A rotund, balding judge in flowing black robes entered and settled down on the bench, gazing wearily at the girls. After a few beginning remarks, the district attorney rose. “There is reasonable evidence to prove that Miss Hastings, Miss Marin, Miss Montgomery, and Miss Fields murdered Miss Tabitha Clark at a resort in Jamaica last April.”
The judge nodded. “Their trial will take place there, as will their sentence. Extradition to Jamaica will happen immediately.”
The lawyers and the judge said more than that, but that was all Hanna heard before the sound of her heartbeat drowned out their voices. She shut her eyes, seeing only darkness. When she opened them again, Mr. Goddard was standing. “I motion to allow my clients one more night in Rosewood with their families.”
“Motion granted,” the judge decided. “All of the girls must leave the country tomorrow. Flights will be arranged, paid for by their families. US marshals will accompany each prisoner.”
And then the gavel banged, and everyone was standing again, and then Mr. Goddard was rushing them out of the courtroom and into a conference room where they could talk. The same reporters had made their way into the halls; they clawed at Hanna fiercely as she passed. Hanna glanced over her shoulder for Mike, wanting to spend every remaining second with him before she had to leave the country, but all she saw were angry faces.
Emily appeared by her side. Spencer caught up next, then Aria. Mr. Goddard made a circle around them with his arms, barricading the reporters, and as the girls looked at one another, they all burst into tears. Spencer grabbed Hanna tightly and hugged her. Aria and Emily wrapped their arms around them, too. They sobbed as one, their breaths sharp and uneven. Flashbulbs popped. The reporters didn’t pause for a second from questioning. But for a few moments, Hanna didn’t care what the photos would be. Who wouldn’t show emotion when she was extradited to a foreign prison for a crime she didn’t commit?
“I can’t believe it’s come to this,” she murmured into her friends’ ears.
“We have to be strong,” Spencer said, her voice cracking.
Hanna gazed back at the courtroom doors, surprised at how many people were streaming out. Mona’s parents hurried down the steps, probably worried they’d be stalked by the reporters themselves. Naomi and Riley flirted with a few lacrosse players, treating this as a social event. Kate looked a little lost as she walked to the window. Hanna wanted to call her over and give her a big hug.
Mr. Goddard directed them into the conference room and shut the doors. “I’ll be right back,” he said. “We’re filing an appeal immediately. And we’re working on getting you the best lawyers in Jamaica.” Then he shut the door behind them, leaving the girls alone.
For a few moments, Hanna sat numbly at the table, scratching her nails against the wood.
Suddenly, something out the window caught her attention. The view was of the empty parking lot, but voices rang out from somewhere below. “No more,” someone said through a bullhorn.
“No more,” more voices echoed.
“No more murders in Rosewood!” the first voice said.