“What bullies want is a reaction. If you don’t give it to them, they’ll lose interest. And you’re not going to let them scare you out of a good school. You’re going to walk in there with your head held high and you’re going to finish out the year. And next year, you can go to the best private school in the city, not just one that offers scholarships. And you’ll have the best education money can buy and you’ll have an amazing life. You’ll show them all.”
Ronni met her mom’s eyes and held them for a moment. “Is that why we’re suing Hannah’s parents?”
We. Ronni and Lisa were a team again, them against the world. “Yes,” Lisa said. “You deserve the best, baby, you always did.”
hannah
FORTY-SIX DAYS AFTER
Hannah paused at the back door of the school. The lunch bell had rung, and students moved to their eating spots like salmon swimming instinctively upstream to spawn. Now that Hannah was seeing Noah, her spawning place was a covered area behind the school with a concrete ledge perfect for perching and eating. Noah, Adam, and Lauren would be there already; the boys would be eating, but Lauren wouldn’t. Sometimes Lauren would nibble on some almonds or pick at a muffin, but for the most part, she drank vitaminwater. Hannah hadn’t been particularly hungry lately, either. Her mom stilled packed her a nutritious, homemade lunch most days, but it often ended up in the trash.
Before she became part of her current clique, Hannah had eaten in the cafeteria with Marta and Caitlin. It was loud and chaotic and smelled like beef stew—not an appetizing environment by any means, but back then, Hannah had no problem devouring her chicken salad with halved grapes. Back then, she had watched, covetously, as Lauren and Ronni wandered past her table, expensive colored water in hand, to meet the hot boys outside. They had seemed so much older, so jaded and worldly that Hannah couldn’t imagine being a part of their scene. But now, she was.
As Hannah reached for the door handle, it jerked open from the other side. Suddenly, Sarah Foster was standing in the doorway just inches away. The pretty blonde looked startled, her eyes darting around in search of Hannah’s posse. When Sarah found no sign of Lauren Ross, her face relaxed.
Hannah stepped aside. “Go ahead . . .” She ushered Sarah into the school. The stylish girl breezed past her without a word, her perfume—something adult and expensive—wafting behind her. Hannah was about to exit, when Sarah’s voice stopped her.
“You know she’s going to turn on you, right?”
“What?”
“Lauren. She turns on everyone. It’s only a matter of time.” She brushed her silky hair away from her face. “You’re pathetic if you think you’re any different.”
Hannah scrambled for a comeback, the right words to defend herself, to defend her friend, but all that came out of her mouth was “Whatever . . .” She hustled herself outside.
The sky was blue and the sun was shining, warming Hannah’s face as she crossed the asphalt courtyard. Sarah Foster was clearly jealous. She had disparaged Lauren because she wanted to be in with her, in with them. If Sarah could have traded places with Hannah, she would have done so in a heartbeat. So it was ridiculous, the nostalgia Hannah was feeling for the noisy, smelly cafeteria. Her life had been mundane then, she reminded herself. Marta and Caitlin were fine, they were comfortable, but they didn’t challenge or excite her, not like Noah and Adam and Lauren did. Maybe what she was really craving was the simplicity of that time—before the party, before the accident, before the lawsuit.
As predicted, her three friends were in the designated spot. Noah and Lauren sat on the ledge while Adam stood in front of them. He was holding his brand-new iPhone out for them and Noah and Lauren were peering at the tiny screen. All three of them were laughing. Hannah walked up to them but said nothing.
Noah noted Hannah’s presence immediately and stood. “Have you seen this?” he asked, nodding his head toward the phone as he slipped his arm around her.
“So fucking funny,” Lauren said. Her voice was slightly slurred and her eyes were glassy. She was probably stoned—on pot or Ativan. Lauren’s mom had taken her to see a doctor after the trauma of Hannah’s birthday party. “I laid it on thick and I got like sixty Ativan and a refillable prescription,” she’d bragged.
Adam passed the phone to Hannah. “Ronni’s new profile page,” he said, stating the obvious. Hannah looked at the cartoon character, its bright smile, its one huge eye, at Ronni’s name plastered beneath it. She knew she was supposed to laugh, but she couldn’t. She felt nauseated, a huge lump rising up from her stomach. “Who did this?” she managed to say.
“Don’t know,” Noah said, with a wry smile at Adam.
“Some genius,” Adam said, taking the phone from her. “Check out the comments.” He passed the phone to Lauren, who read them in her sleepy, slurry voice.
“?‘She was a stuck-up bitch when she had two eyes. . . . Will she be half a stuck-up bitch now?’?” The boys chuckled. Lauren continued. “?‘Being a drunken slut is all fun and games until . . .’?”
Noah and Adam joined in for the chorus, “?‘Someone loses an eye.’?” They all dissolved into laughter. After a few seconds, Lauren composed herself to keep reading. “?‘Why are you guys picking on Fetty Wap?’?”
“Awesome!” The three of them convulsed again. Hannah forced a noise out of her throat and hoped it resembled a chuckle.
Lauren read, “?‘This page is cruel and whoever made it should be ashamed of themselves.’?”
“Let me guess,” Adam said, “Someone from the God squad.”
Lauren peered at the tiny name. “Yep. Phoebe Winslow.”
“Do-gooder bitch,” Noah snorted.
“Ronni didn’t even like Phoebe,” Lauren said. “But now that Ronni’s a freak, Phoebe’s her BFF.”
“Phoebe will report the page,” Noah said. “She probably already has.”
Adam said, “That’s okay. I’m sure Ronni has had a chance to see it.”
“Yeah . . .” Noah added, “as long as she got the message.”
“Oh, she got it,” Lauren said smugly.
Hannah was gripped with an urgent need to remove herself. “I’m going to get a drink from the caf,” she said tightly, stepping away from Noah’s side. “Anyone want anything?”
Lauren’s glassy gaze fell on her then and a shiver ran through Hannah. Lauren could see that Hannah agreed with Phoebe Winslow: the Facebook page was sick and cruel and not funny. Lauren could see that Hannah was a Goody Two-shoes, a suck-up, and she didn’t belong with the cool crowd, didn’t deserve a hot boyfriend like Noah. Lauren knew Hannah was a fraud, a wannabe, and she was going to call her out now. Hannah braced herself; it was over. . . .
But Lauren’s eyes drifted back to the phone and she mumbled, “I’m good.”
“Me, too,” Adam echoed.
Noah reached for Hannah’s fingers. “You okay?”