Suddenly, Hanna’s head shot up. It was as though Ali had spoken to her from beyond the grave. She did have something on Kate, something she’d almost forgotten.
She started to laugh.
“What?” Kate’s eyebrows knitted together.
The giggles kept coming. Hanna rummaged around in her bag for her cell phone. “You’re not posting anything on Facebook. Because if you do, I’m telling everyone about Santa.”
Kate frowned. For a split second, a look of sheer terror crossed her face. “Huh?”
“You know,” Hanna said mockingly, pulling up the photo she was looking for on her phone and thrusting it toward Kate. Santa caressing Kate’s neck. Kate burying her hands in Santa’s cottony beard. “A fitting caption would be Someone’s been naughty this year. And haven’t you heard that guy’s a major pervert?” Hanna scolded. “He hits on twelve-year-old girls!”
Kate backed away from Hanna, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Please don’t,” was all she whispered.
“I think we have an agreement, then.” Hanna pressed the UNLOCK button on her key chain. “If you post the boot camp pictures online, I’ll post this. ’Kay?”
Kate didn’t answer, but Hanna knew she’d gotten her. Head held high, she swung into the driver’s seat, turned the ignition, and pulled swiftly and expertly out of her spot. “Bye-bye!” she trilled, waggling her fingers at her stepsister. Kate remained where she was, the red T-shirt limp at her side.
Hanna drove away without giving her stepsister a second glance. As she turned out of the parking lot, a phrase Ali often said and Hanna had adopted came to mind: I’m Ali, and I’m fabulous. Hanna felt pretty frickin’ fabulous right now, too.
Chapter 15
Operators Are Standing By!
Back at home, the kitchen was silent and unoccupied. Water in the shower ran upstairs, and Hanna could hear the muted sounds of the morning news from her father’s room. Out the window, the six-year-old twins who lived next door whirled out into their driveway like dervishes, wearing matching Santa’s elves hats.
Hanna downed a couple Advils and started to make coffee. For a few minutes, the only sound in the room was the water dripping into the carafe. She stared blankly at the front page of the Philadelphia Sentinel, willing her headache to go away. Ian Thomas Maintains Innocence, said a headline. She turned the paper over fast. It was the last thing she wanted to think about right now. Ian had to be guilty. Who else had a motive to kill Ali?
Hanna looked down at the paper again and flinched. In the lower left-hand corner was a giant ad for Body Tonic Gym and Spa. There, in black and white, was Vince’s grinning face, telling potential exercisers that from now until New Year’s, initiation fees would only be $50.
She couldn’t believe Dinah—and she couldn’t believe Vince had chosen a freak like her over Hanna. If she’d shown up caroling instead of Dinah, would Vince have gone for her instead? Why had he acted so into Hanna in the first place? Was something of what Dinah said true—was he just trying to get the two of them to compete for him?
After everything she’d been through with A, she should have known Dinah was going to stab her in the back. An image flashed into her mind. She saw Mona’s car barreling toward her again. She felt the impact, her body flying into the air, the scream lodging in her throat. One person after another kept betraying her.
Hanna rubbed her temples and tried to take slow, even breaths. Was there anyone she could trust anymore? She glanced at her phone on the table, then scrolled through her contacts list, wondering if she should call Spencer. Or maybe Emily. Or Aria. She remembered a gift exchange they’d had in seventh grade, right before the holiday break. Aria had knitted all of them mohair bras, and they’d all tried them on over their clothes and danced around Ali’s living room. Even Ali had been in a good mood that day, not making fun of how Hanna’s bra stretched unflatteringly across her chest. Ali’s brother, Jason, had walked into the room halfway through their dance party. He’d stared at them in their bizarre outfits, and they’d all collapsed into giggles.
There was a cough in the hall, and Hanna looked up just as her father strolled into the room in his bathrobe and slippers. “Hey,” he said in a weary voice, ruffling her hair. “Mind if I have some of that coffee?”
“Be my guest,” Hanna said.
Mr. Marin poured part of the carafe into the Doberman mug he’d used since Hanna was a kid. He sat down next to her, let out a long, tired sigh, and rubbed his eyes.
“Is everything okay?” Hanna asked.
His head bobbed up and down. “I’m just tired. These Twelve Days of Christmas activities are a little crazy this year. Isabel has me running all over the place.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t participated in all of them,” Hanna said, feeling a little guilty.
Mr. Marin waved his hand. “Maybe you were smart to miss them.” He gave her a covert glance. “Between you and me? I think I liked it better when we celebrated Hanukkah. At least that only went on for eight days. And it was much more low-key.”
Hanna bit her bottom lip. “I liked it better when we celebrated it, too.”
Mr. Marin opened his mouth like he was going to say something else, but then seemed to change his mind and just took another long swig of his coffee. A silence fell between them. The candy cane–shaped clock Isabel had hung up in the corner ticked loudly. A motor gunned outside.
Then, Mr. Marin patted Hanna’s thigh. “Actually, that reminds me. I have something for you.” He rose, shuffled over to his briefcase by the door, and pulled out a small velvet box.