Enveloped in the warmth of her luxurious duvet, she took a moment to savor the morning. Her mom usually barged in at some ungodly hour to roust her from her slumber, insisting she needed to get to her studies, her piano, or some inane household chore that didn’t really need to be done. This morning, the house was quiet. Her mom must be at Pilates, her dad was working or working out, and her younger brother was undoubtedly plugged into some electronic device and shoveling food into his pimply face. It was a perfect time for reflection, and so she did, in the way that sixteen-year-olds reflect.
Fifteen had been a pretty good year for Hannah, especially the last two months, since Noah. He turned his attention on her and, like flicking a switch or waving a magic wand, he had changed her life. Hannah had been utterly naive to the transformative powers of a popular boy’s attentions. She was suddenly cool, admired even. When Noah deemed her worthy of his interest, so did the rest of the student population. And that included Ronni Monroe and Lauren Ross.
The girls were Hannah’s age but possessed a sophistication far beyond their years. Lauren in particular was confident, self-assured, and just a little bit mean . . . which everyone knows equates to power in the high school universe. Hannah knew that Lauren liked her only because Noah was hovering around her, but Hannah was sure that she could segue the popular girl’s interest into a meaningful friendship. There was a lot to be learned from a girl like Lauren; Hannah was an eager protégé.
Hannah’s inclusion in the cool clique wasn’t completely out of left field. Ronni Monroe had been Hannah’s best friend in elementary school. But in seventh grade, Ronni had outgrown her, probably because Ronni had developed early and attracted the attention of older boys. Hannah was a late bloomer and, prior to Noah, had been virtually invisible to the opposite sex. Ronni also had a mother who let her wear makeup and short shorts to school. Hannah’s own hovering mom seemed determined to thwart her daughter’s maturation, banning revealing clothing, eyeliner, rap music, and anything else that might lead to the “hypersexualization” of her daughter. Her mom had seen a documentary on this “epidemic” and talked incessantly about empowerment and self-worth. Just Hannah’s luck . . .
Hannah’s life hadn’t been particularly terrible before Noah—it had just been . . . flat. Her focus had been on school, basketball, practicing the piano . . . basically, doing everything that her parents wanted her to do. And then, about two weeks into her coupledom, Ronni and Lauren had approached her. “Wanna hang?” There was little enthusiasm in the invitation, but Hannah knew enough to be honored. She’d spent two years watching the queen bees stroll through the halls of Hillcrest Academy, bored, jaded, beautiful; Hannah was one of them now.
Her mind floated to her boyfriend, Noah, and lingered on his lazy smile, his blue eyes, the outline of his strong shoulders under his ubiquitous black sweatshirt. Her stomach did that funny little dance and her hand slipped down to her panties. Her fingers crept inside and she scratched. Vigorously. Lauren and Ronni insisted she had to shave “down there.” Everyone did it—except hippies and religious people. It was cleaner, sexier, and boys loved it—expected it, really. Pubic hair was gross, Hannah agreed. But Jesus, how it itched!
Noah had yet to be introduced to Hannah’s hairlessness. Despite the life-altering ramifications of their relationship, they had done little more than kiss up to this point. This was largely due to a lack of opportunity. At Tyler Harris’s party, there had been some over-the-clothes fondling, but she knew Noah would be expecting more from her soon. Lauren and Ronni informed her that some guys would be content with petting for a month or two if they really liked you, but they’d soon lose interest if you weren’t up for at least some oral. And Noah dated Kennedy Weaver last summer and they’d had sex a bajillion times. Any day now, Hannah was going to have to put out.
After another bout of violent scratching, Hannah decided to get up. Before she could reconsider, she threw the pale-yellow duvet off her, her body bracing against the chilled air. Her modern house was stunning, everyone said so, but with its sealed concrete floors, high ceilings, and expanses of glass, it was also freezing. Her feet were literally numb as she scurried toward the double bathroom she shared with her kid brother, Aidan. The haste was necessary. In addition to saving her toes from frostbite, she had a ton to do to get ready for the party.
As the rain showerhead poured over her body, Hannah tried to relax, but there was no denying the importance of this evening to her social status. The most popular girls at Hillcrest would be in attendance, along with two of Hannah’s oldest friends. Marta and Caitlin were nice kids, good kids like Hannah, but lately she’d realized that they were kind of immature. Hannah had advised her two pals that they would have to up their game, because tonight was not going to be some childish slumber party. Yesterday, at school, Lauren and Ronni had made their expectations perfectly clear.
They had approached her in the morning as she was putting her books into her locker. “Hey, birthday girl.” Lauren had hugged her first. She was so tiny, like a little girl in Hannah’s embrace—a little girl with rounded hips, perky breasts, a nipped in waist; a little girl with long honey-colored hair, a glossy pout, and sleepy, sexy eyes.
“It’s not until tomorrow.”
“Technicality,” Ronni said, as she stepped in for a hug. She was a little taller, but still compact, with disproportionately large boobs that stirred covetous feelings in Hannah. Beneath her expertly applied makeup, Ronni had perfect tawny skin and her hair was dark and shiny. Her dad was half Puerto Rican or half Guatemalan or something. He wasn’t in the picture, but at least he’d given his daughter some genetic gifts before he disappeared. Around Lauren and Ronni, Hannah always felt huge and dorky. But she also felt special. They had chosen her, after all: the prize puppy, the cutest kitten. Hannah had found the golden ticket; she was going to Hollywood. . . .
Ronni released her, and Hannah caught the envious glance of Sarah Foster as she walked past them. Sarah was tall, lanky, and blond; she wore the right clothes and dated the right boys. Sarah had enjoyed a brief sojourn in Lauren and Ronni’s orbit, but something had gone wrong. Rumor had it that Sarah had flirted with a guy Lauren liked, but Hannah didn’t trust rumors. A lot of people talked shit about Lauren Ross—small, jealous people who had no chance of ever basking in her heat.
Lauren clocked Sarah’s look, too. “Stare much?” she called. Sarah quickened her pace and soon dissolved into the clotted artery of the hallway. Lauren and Ronni exchanged a snicker and Ronni mumbled, “Slut.”
Lauren returned her attention to Hannah. “Can’t wait for tomorrow night.”
“It’s gonna be wild,” Ronni added.