Later that night, Hanna strode into Rue Noir, a swanky lounge bar off the Hyde campus. There was a long, curved bar at the back of the room, a small dance floor to the left, and dozens of comfy couches and dark, private nooks in which a couple could cuddle for hours. She couldn’t think of a better place for her first official date with Liam.
He wasn’t here yet, so Hanna scoped out an empty couch farthest away from a group of fraternity guys and their skanky-looking dates and surreptitiously checked her reflection in the hand mirror she kept in her purse. She looked even more perfect than she had at the flash mob, with no indication she’d had a stressful meeting with Spencer and the others two hours earlier, strategizing about who the new A might be.
She shut her eyes. Spencer’s Kelsey theory worried her. It wasn’t just Spencer who had ruined Kelsey’s life—Hanna was guilty, too. She’d helped frame Kelsey to set Spencer free.
Hanna had met Kelsey last summer at one of the Kahns’ legendary summer parties. They had invited all the neighbors and set up beer kegs, an inflatable jumping castle, and an old-school photo booth in their backyard. Spencer and Kelsey had breezed onto the Kahns’ patio, talking a little too loudly and assertively. Usually, Spencer was demure and impeccably behaved at parties, but that night she seemed obnoxiously drunk. She chatted up Eric Kahn, flirting with him in front of his college girlfriend. She told Cassie Buckley, Ali’s older field hockey friend—who was now sporting a tough, goth-chic look—that she’d always thought she was a bitch. She seemed unhinged and scarily unpredictable.
It didn’t take long for people to start whispering about her. I never took her for the type, Naomi Zeigler said. Not hot, complained Mason Byers, who once got so drunk at a Kahn bash that he streaked naked through the woods behind the Kahns’ property. And Mike, with whom Hanna had attended the party, squeezed Hanna’s hand. “Those two are flying high, huh?”
The clouds had parted in Hanna’s mind. Of course. Spencer and Kelsey weren’t drunk: They were on something. At that, she marched over to Spencer, who was telling a rambling story to Kirsten Cullen. When Spencer saw her, she brightened. “Hey!” she said, punching Hanna’s arm hard. “Where have you been, bitch? I’ve been looking all over for you!”
Hanna clamped down on Spencer’s wrist and pulled her away from Kirsten. “Spence, what are you on?”
Spencer’s shoulders stiffened. Her smile was wide and dangerous, nothing like the poised and perfect girl who ran practically every club at Rosewood Day. “Why, do you want some?” She reached into her bag and pressed something into Hanna’s hand. “Take the whole bottle. There’s plenty more where that came from. I have this amazing dealer.”
Hanna stared at what Spencer had given her. It was a large prescription bottle with a bright orange cap. She slipped the bottle in her pocket, hoping that if she held onto the pills, Spencer would sober up and not take any more. “Are you taking this stuff a lot?”
Spencer rocked coyly from side to side. “Just to study. And it’s fun at parties.”
“Aren’t you worried about getting caught?”
“I’ve got it under control, Hanna. Promise.” Spencer rolled her eyes.
Hanna was about to say more, when suddenly she got a prickly feeling that someone was watching her. Kelsey stood a few paces away, her eyes fixed on Hanna.
“Uh, hey,” Hanna said awkwardly, waving.
Kelsey didn’t say hello back. She stared as though she could see right through her.
Slowly, Hanna backed away, unnerved by both of them. As soon as she did, Kelsey rushed to Spencer’s side and started whispering. Spencer glanced at Hanna and laughed. It wasn’t even her normal laugh, but something that sounded harsh and ugly and mean.
Maybe that was why, a month later, Hanna hadn’t felt so bad about framing Kelsey. Surely Kelsey had been the one who’d introduced Spencer to drugs, meaning Hanna was saving the next girl Kelsey tried to get hooked. It was exactly how she’d rationalized it when they thought they’d killed Ali in Jamaica: If they hadn’t killed her, Ali would have gone on to kill again.
But Tabitha wasn’t Ali. And now someone might know what she had done to Kelsey, too.
A figure appeared over her, and Hanna looked up. There, also looking more gorgeous than he had at the flash mob, was Liam. He wore a pinstriped shirt and jeans that fit him perfectly. His wavy hair was pushed back from his face, showing off his amazing bone structure. Just looking at him sent ripples of pleasure across the surface of Hanna’s skin.
“Hey,” he said, grinning a bright, excited smile at her. “You look incredible.”
“Thanks,” Hanna said, feeling bashful. “So do you.”
She slid over on the couch so that Liam could sit right next to her. He put his arms around her, pulling her into his side for a hug, but it quickly turned into a kiss. The background music, some electronic song, thumped a few measures. A few fraternity guys in the corner laughed raucously and downed shots.