Mr. Marin shook his head. “Actually, Jeremiah is working for Tucker Wilkinson now.”
Hanna gaped. “You’re kidding.”
“I wish I was. I guess we really couldn’t trust him.” Mr. Marin grabbed a TOM MARIN FOR SENATOR printed notepad from his desk. “I want you to give me any information you’ve got on this Patrick guy. Emails, phone numbers, anything you can think of. What he did to you is sick, Hanna. We need to find him and make him pay.”
Hanna scrolled through her phone and gave him Patrick’s details. “What about the money I stole? Do you want me to pay you back somehow?”
Mr. Marin twirled the pen between his fingers. “Just work extra hard on the campaign for me. I was going to mention this to you after the meeting anyway—we need to figure out ways to capture the youth vote. Kate’s already on board. What about you?”
“Don’t you have a paid staff to do that?”
“Of course I do. But I want you girls to be involved, too.”
Hanna pressed her tongue into her cheek. The last thing she wanted was to be on a committee with perfect Kate, but there was no way she could say no to her dad—not now. “Okay.”
“I can’t figure out how to reach young people,” Mr. Marin said. “I assumed that you two would have some insight.”
Hanna thought for a moment. “Do you have a Twitter account?”
“Yes, but I don’t entirely understand Twitter.” Mr. Marin looked sheepish. “Do you have to invite people to be your friends, like on Facebook?”
“People just follow you. I can take over your Twitter account if you want. And what if we use it to arrange a flash mob?”
Mr. Marin frowned. “Didn’t a flash mob cause riots in Philly a few summers ago?”
“It would be a controlled flash mob,” Hanna said with a small smile. “We could reach out to everyone on a local campus like Hollis or Hyde and have them gather for an impromptu rally. Maybe we could hire a band. The cooler we make it sound, the more kids will want to come even if they don’t know what it is. You could appear and make a speech, and we could have people in the crowd registering them to vote, too.”
Mr. Marin cocked his head. His eyes glimmered in the same way they did when he was about to say yes to a trip to Hershey Park, which Hanna used to beg for every weekend. “Let’s try it,” he said finally. “I think we should go with Hyde College—it’s small and close to Philly. Can you make the arrangements?”
“Sure,” Hanna said.
Mr. Marin leaned forward and touched Hanna’s hand. “See? You’re a natural at this. And what you said, earlier. About . . . well, about how things have changed between us.” His voice was soft and tentative, almost nervous. “I don’t want it to be that way.”
“I don’t, either.” Hanna sniffed. “I don’t know what to do about it, though.”
Mr. Marin thought for a moment. “Why don’t you stay here some nights?”
Hanna looked up. “Huh?”
“The new house is so big. There’s a bedroom for you that’s always open.” He fiddled with the silver pen in his hand. “I miss you, Han. I miss having you around.”
Hanna smiled shyly, feeling like she was going to cry again. She didn’t want to live with Kate again, but things did seem different with her dad now. Maybe living with him would be better this time. Maybe they could start over.
“Okay,” she said shyly. “I guess I could stay here a few nights next week.”
“Great!” Mr. Marin looked thrilled. “Whenever you want.” Then, his expression turned serious again. “So that’s it, then? There isn’t anything else you want to tell me?”
Tabitha’s face swooped through her mind like a dive-bombing hawk, but Hanna shut her eyes and willed it out again. “Of course not.”
He smiled at her and cuffed her softly on the arm. “Good girl.”
Hanna rose, gave her father a kiss, and left. That had gone better than she planned. Probably better than A had planned, too.
But after she let herself out the front door, she noticed something wedged under her front tire. It was a crumpled-up flyer for Pretty Little Killer, the TV biopic that had aired the night the news had broken about Tabitha.
Ali’s eyes were hauntingly blue, and her cruel smile seemed alive, like she could jump out from the page at any moment. A faint giggle sounded in Hanna’s ears, and she spun around, checking the quiet neighborhood street. It was empty, but she still felt like someone was watching. Knowing her every secret. And ready to tell.
Chapter 5
THE LITTLE MERMAID
“I don’t understand why we’re going to this party at midnight.” Emily shifted her weight on the chicken-print cushioned barstool in the Fieldses’ kitchen. “Didn’t you say it started at nine?”
Beth dabbed eye shadow on Emily’s upper lids. “No one goes to parties at nine. Midnight is the fashionable hour.”
“And how would you know that, good girl?”
“‘Good girl’?” Beth snorted. “Ha!”