Finally, Hanna’s vision had begun to tunnel. She’d dropped to the ground in a heap, and Dinah had let out a whoop. Dinah’s prize had been a bottle of AminoSpa—whoo hoo. But she’d looked at Hanna, licked her finger, pressed it to her butt, and made a sizzling noise.
“You two are young and hungry,” Vince explained now. “But more than that, I think you’re a huge inspiration to Dinah. I’m not sure she’s ever taken fitness seriously before, whereas you look like you’ve taken care of yourself for years. I think you can really help her achieve her goals.”
Hanna perked up. That made sense. She’d never thought of herself as a fitness inspiration, but maybe she was. She could be just like Jillian Michaels or that long-haired, buff-bodied guy on her mom’s yoga DVDs, giving Dinah tough love and lots of encouragement.
“Well, I’m glad I can help,” she said, folding her arms on the table. “In fact, if you ever want to get together to talk about how I could be . . . more inspirational, I’d be happy to hear it.”
Vince nodded contemplatively. “Sure. That would be great.”
“I’d like to hear more about AminoSpa sometime, too,” Hanna added, gesturing to his almost-empty bottle.
This made Vince’s eyes light up. “Absolutely. I can give you the whole rundown.”
Then Vince said he’d better get going. They both stood and said their good-byes, and Hanna pranced away from him, hoping he was getting a good look at her already-firmer butt. Her heart was racing, her cheeks felt flushed, and she felt beautiful, radiant, and desired.
But as she strode out of the shop, she caught sight of something outside the window. COMING SOON, a large placard said on a storefront across the walkway. RIVE GAUCHE.
She felt a twinge of guilt. Rive Gauche was the restaurant at the King James Mall she and Mona used to hang out at religiously—and it was the place where Lucas worked. They’d re-met there, actually—Lucas had chased after Hanna when Mona had stuck her with a bill, and they’d developed a friendship that led to dating.
Maybe it was wrong to faux-hold hands with a guy when Hanna had a perfectly good real boyfriend vacationing across the continent. Just because Brooke was a skanky tanorexic didn’t mean Lucas was going to fall for her tricks. Maybe there was even an excuse as to why he hadn’t written to her yet. Maybe the Beattie family had been kidnapped by Mexican drug lords and they’d taken away his iPhone. She’d seen that once on Locked Up Abroad.
She pulled out her phone to check for news about the Yucatán, but before CNN even loaded, an alert popped onto her screen. Lucas Beattie was tagged in a new photo, it said. Hanna’s heart lifted. So Lucas was alive!
She clicked on the link, and the browser called up her Facebook page. Lucas’s photo was right at the top of the news feed; Brooke had posted it. There was no text, just a picture of him and Brooke sitting on a beautiful white beach, their arms around each other. Their bodies were pressed close together. Skin on skin. Lucas’s smile took up practically the whole frame.
Hanna stared at the picture for what felt like hours. It felt worse than the most eye-numbing ice cream headache ever. Finally, she exited out of Facebook and checked her inbox for any texts or emails from him, but there were none. Nor had he tweeted or—God forbid—called. The message was loud and clear. Lucas had forgotten about her, trading in Hanna for Puke-a-tan.
Which meant just one thing. Hanna would trade Lucas in, too—for Vince.
Chapter 10
That’s a Wrap
On Monday after school, Hanna pulled into a small parking lot in front of a squat building across from the Yarmouth SEPTA station. YARMOUTH HOMELESS SHELTER, said a sign in faded blue letters over the door. A pathetic plastic wreath hung in one of the windows, and someone had strung a few Christmas lights around the scrubby bushes up the front walk.
“Are you sure this is the place you volunteered at?” Hanna said into her phone. “It looks like it’s going to fall down any second.”
“I’m positive,” Spencer Hastings answered on the other end. “And good for you, Han, for volunteering.”
“Yeah, well, maybe the ordeal with A has turned me into a better person,” Hanna murmured before pressing END. But really, it wasn’t A that encouraged her to come to the shelter today. It was because she knew a certain gorgeous trainer was going to be here.
She was in full-on Make Vince Want Her mode. She hadn’t let herself think about Lucas and Puke-a-tan since she saw that Facebook photo on Saturday. Granted, she’d also avoided Facebook since then, not wanting to see more posts of Lucas and Brooke canoodling on the beach. But if she was getting dumped, she was going back to school after winter vacation with a hot new body and an older boyfriend.
Rolling her shoulders back, she strode up the front walk and turned the knob of the door. The shelter smelled like old, slightly mildewed wood and sweat. An unoccupied desk was the first thing she saw, then a mini rotating Christmas tree on the floor. In the distance, she heard the sounds of crinkling paper, slicing scissors, and laughter.
“Hello?” Hanna called out.
A pie-faced woman in a reindeer-print sweater emerged from a door marked BATHROOM and grinned. “Well, hello! And you are . . . ?”
“Hanna.” She gestured toward the crinkling-paper sounds. “I’m here for gift wrapping.”
“Excellent. You came just in time—we got tons of gifts this year, so we need tons of help. I’m Bette.”
The woman led Hanna down a long hall that was lit by ugly fluorescent panels and into a large room with a bunch of tables and a kitchen at the back. Gifts were piled high on the floor, and there were tubes of wrapping paper, bows, ribbons, and labels everywhere. “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” was playing on a portable radio, and a bunch of people were wrapping gifts and drinking what smelled like hot chocolate out of Styrofoam cups.