Bzz.
She pulled out her phone. One new text from Anonymous. She looked around at the towering trees and the silent stars. It was so quiet out, yet she felt distinctly like someone was lurking close, trying hard to keep from laughing. Taking a deep breath, she looked at her phone’s screen.
Just be happy I didn’t call the cops about YOUR secrets. —A
16
RUNNING FOR HER LIFE
“Looking good, everyone!” Hanna called to the crowds thundering down Rosewood’s main drag in the annual Rosewood Hospital 10k race. It was Saturday morning, and a steady rain was falling. Hanna’s hair looked like crap and her makeup was smudged, but she’d promised her dad she’d hand out Tom Marin buttons and treats.
“Have a banana!” she said to a skinny older man who was puffing along in a see-through rain slicker, passing him a banana with a VOTE FOR TOM MARIN sticker on the peel. “Vote for Tom Marin!” She handed water cups printed with TOM MARIN to two chubby middle-aged women who were walking the race, huddling together under an umbrella. “Go, go, go!”
Kate, who was standing next to her with the hood of her anorak cinched tight, chuckled playfully. “I don’t think your cheering is going to get them to move any faster.”
“Probably not,” Hanna giggled as the middle-aged women’s portly butts disappeared around the bend.
“Why aren’t you running this?” Kate pushed a half-peeled banana at a whippet-thin woman with iPod headphones in her ears. “I remember Mom making me cheer for you last year.”
Hanna shrugged. Last year, she ran the race with Mike—and beat him by a couple of seconds. They’d celebrated with a big bowl of pasta at Spaghetti Heaven afterwards and were so inspired by their times that they’d registered for a few more races, which they’d run this summer. But Hanna hadn’t gone running once since she and Mike broke up.
She gave Kate a sidelong glance. “Actually, the better question is why aren’t you running?” Kate had been a champion on her cross-country team at her old school in Annapolis. Isabel never shut up about it.
Kate fingered her chestnut ponytail. “Because Naomi and Riley registered first. The race isn’t big enough for all of us.”
Hanna poured more water into cups, just to do something with her hands. “So you guys are still fighting?”
“Yeah.” Kate clapped loudly for the passing runners. “The fight’s just with Naomi. Not Riley.”
Hanna gave Kate a strange look, hoping she’d elaborate. Was the fight still over her? Was Kate pro-Hanna, or anti-Hanna? But then Kate’s phone rang, and she took refuge under the awning of the coffee shop behind them to answer the call. Hanna watched more people stream past. There were kids from Hollis College, their T-shirts plastered to their chests. There were gung-ho über-runner types in racing singlets and track shoes. Suddenly, two familiar figures appeared around the bend. Mike’s blue-black hair was matted against his head, and he wore a white long-sleeved T-shirt, baggy black running shorts, and neon-yellow Nikes. His right hand was firmly entwined with Colleen’s. They were wearing matching outfits—only Colleen’s white tee was now see-through from the rain. It hurt to see that the Mike-and-Hanna hobby was now a Mike-and-Colleen hobby.
Hanna tried to duck behind the water table, but then Colleen spied her and broke into a huge smile. Shit. They trotted over, breathing hard. “Omigod, Hanna, it’s so sweet that you’re handing out water!” Colleen gushed, accepting a cup, gulping it down, and grabbing another. “Thank you!”
“Drink the whole gallon, why don’t you!” Hanna said under her breath, wanting to stuff the paper cup down her throat. Then she turned to Mike and offered him a cup of water, too. “Having a good time?” she said in the sweetest voice she could muster, as if there were no hard feelings.
“Yeah.” Mike downed the water, then selected a banana from the tray. “This race rocks. I’m loving seeing so many girls’ butts in wet spandex.”
“Mike,” Colleen scolded, her eyebrows furrowing. Mike hung his head in apology, and Colleen rolled her eyes before jogging to a nearby trash can to toss in her empty water cup. Hanna raised an eyebrow. Colleen didn’t put up with Mike’s sex jokes? How did they even have a conversation?
Mike looked at Hanna with curiosity. “I’m surprised you’re not running this year.”
Hanna shrugged. “Nope, dad-duty calls.” She showed him the VOTE FOR TOM MARIN button she’d pinned on her jacket. “I remember last year, though. After we finished, we dove into the bushes and made out, still wearing our medals.”
Mike’s lips twitched. “Uh, yeah . . .”