“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.
“Just grab a present and get wrapping,” Bette said. Then she waddled back in the direction of the front desk.
Hanna gazed around at the mob of people. Most of them looked like Hollis students, wearing ripped jeans, Uggs, and Patagonia fleeces. She didn’t see Vince anywhere. This was the place where he was volunteering, wasn’t it? But then, a door off to the left opened, and she spotted his dark hair, broad shoulders, and bright smile. Yes.
Hanna raised her hand to wave, but Vince seemed distracted, smiling at something across the room. A girl sat on top of one of the tables, placing a shiny bow on a wrapped gift. Vince walked up to her, said a few words, and they both started to giggle. Then he walked away again, disappearing into one of the back rooms. Hanna’s gaze remained on the girl. When she recognized the girl’s beehive of black hair, she exhaled sharply.
It was Dinah.
Hanna stalked over and tapped her on the shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
Dinah swiveled around, her smile wavering. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Vince mentioned wrapping presents for the homeless shelter a few days ago. I thought it was a really cute idea, so I signed up, too.”
Hanna narrowed her eyes. “Do you actually think he’d go for you?”
“I know he will.” Dinah sniffed. Then she looked Hanna up and down in such a way that made Hanna feel self-conscious. She’d changed from her Rosewood Day uniform into a pair of skinny jeans from Madewell—a size four, thank you very much—and paired it with a loose-fitting silk top that tied at the neck and a pair of soft suede booties. Dinah, on the other hand, was wearing a checkered housedress that flared at the waist and showed off quite a bit of boob, and a pair of black Mary Janes. The only redeeming accessory was her small Chanel quilted bag, which sat next to her on the table. It looked exactly like the one all the starlets carried in Us Weekly and InStyle. Surely Dinah’s was a fake, right?
Vince returned with a bunch of unwrapped presents in his hands. When he saw Hanna, his jaw dropped. “Hey!” he said, a smile spreading across his face. “It’s so nice to see you here!”
Ha, Hanna thought. He probably hadn’t said that to Dinah. “Just wanted to help out,” she said, trying to sound humble.
“You girls are awesome.” Vince passed Hanna a tube of wrapping paper and a pair of scissors. “I’m so glad you both decided to come. Doing this kind of thing is really good for the soul, you know?”
“Absolutely,” Dinah trilled, lowering her long lashes. “I’m all for volunteering. My school encourages it.”
“Volunteering is mandatory at my school,” Hanna said. “What school do you go to, Dinah?” She fully expected Dinah to say Rosewood Public, or maybe one of the alternative Quaker schools where everyone was forced to work on the campus farm.
“Larchmont Academy,” Dinah answered primly. “It’s in Haverford.”
“I know where it is,” Hanna spat, trying to hide her shock. Before she’d become friends with Ali in sixth grade, she’d begged her mom to switch her to Larchmont Academy. Not only had every famous person who’d grown up on the Main Line graduated from there, but the school offered classes like the History of Couture and let kids take internships as far away as New York or Washington, D.C., during their senior year.
If Dinah were anyone else, Hanna would have loved to pick her brain about Larchmont. There was always the option of going there for senior year if attending the same school as Kate was just too much. But she didn’t want to give Dinah the satisfaction.
“Larchmont Academy sponsors us to volunteer in the most amazing locations,” Dinah said to Vince, slicing a long sheet of wrapping paper. “Last year, I went on a trip to Somalia to work in a hospital. It was basically an open-air tent. The year before that, I rebuilt houses that were ruined in the Haiti earthquake.”
“That’s incredible,” Vince gushed as he ripped a piece of tape from the dispenser.
Hanna opened her mouth, wanting to boast about some over-the-top volunteer work she’d done too, but she couldn’t think of a single thing. She glanced at Vince, who was beaming at Dinah like she’d just invented penicillin.
Hanna turned to her gift, a large Lego space set, and taped wrapping paper around the sides, vowing to be the best gift-wrapper ever. The other volunteers stopped by every so often to grab tape or drop off a roll of colored ribbon, chatting briefly with Vince. Hanna recognized two girls from Body Tonic—one of them, Yolanda, was the Pilates instructor, and the other worked as a lifeguard. About a half hour later, Dinah slid off the table and excused herself to use the bathroom. This was Hanna’s chance.
“So did you have to do a zillion bench presses to work off that scoop of butter pecan the other day?” Hanna teased, sidling closer to him.
Vince looked up. “Shhhh.” He glanced covertly at the Body Tonic trainers. “If they find out I’m an ice cream junkie, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Hanna giggled. “What’s in it for me if I don’t tell?”
Vince raised an eyebrow flirtatiously. “Hmmm. Well, what would you want?”
Okay, this was more like it. Hanna cleared her throat and scootched up onto the table, her thigh pressing Vince’s waist. “Let’s get coffee sometime. Talk about . . . you know. Fitness. Pervy Santas.”
Vince laughed. “That sounds awesome.”
“Great. How about Wednesday?” Hanna asked.
The light faded from Vince’s eyes. “Uh, I can’t Wednesday,” he said, avoiding eye contact.
Before Hanna could suggest another day, Bette called for Vince to come over and help her with a heavy donation. As Vince wandered off, Hanna’s mind scrambled for answers. Had she done something wrong? Said something wrong? She heard a little snorting laugh emerge from the shadows. She whipped around, sure it had to be Dinah, but Dinah was nowhere to be seen.
“Ahem.” Hanna looked up and saw Yolanda, the Pilates instructor, gazing at her from the next table. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but I heard you guys talking,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t take it personally. Vince is always busy on Wednesday nights.”
Hanna blinked at her. “Where does he go?” Unsavory options came to mind. A Sex Addicts Anonymous meeting. Getting together with a bunch of guys to play EverQuest. On a date with his mail-order girlfriend, a fifty-year-old cougar with silicone boobs.
Yolanda set down the present she was wrapping and walked closer. “He carols with his church every Wednesday evening. They go door-to-door in Hollis, singing religious songs and, like, being biblical and whatever. It’s not really the kind of thing he likes talking about to girls.”
“Oh,” Hanna said quietly. Caroling with his church didn’t sound that bad.
“He’s just looking for a good Catholic girl to settle down with.” Yolanda cast a motherly glance in Vince’s direction. He was chatting with Bette and pointing to his bottle of AminoSpa.
Hanna nodded, her spirits lifting. She could be the good Catholic girl Vince was looking for—well, the good Jewish girl, but what was the difference? It was time to warm up her voice: On Wednesday, she was going caroling. And for once, Dinah wouldn’t be there to ruin the mood.
Chapter 11
I Saw Someone Kissing Santa Claus
On Wednesday afternoon after school, Hanna strutted through Devon Crest’s double doors, walked right past Otter and the evil Lauren, and marched into the upper level of Saks. If caroling tonight was her one chance to make it or break it with Vince, she needed to find the perfect outfit to win him over. Something wholesome but pretty, like a nipped-at-the-waist Diane von Furstenberg wool coat. Or maybe one of those jackets with fur on the hood and at the cuffs. Something that said holy, not slutty.
“O little town of Bethlehem,” Hanna sang quietly along with the Muzak over the speakers. Last night, she’d dug out Isabel’s most religious Christmas CDs and learned the words, including all of the verses to “Joy to the World,” the Latin version of “O Come, All Ye Faithful,” and “O Christmas Tree”—what was the deal with Christmas carols starting with O?—in German. She’d also memorized the Hail Mary and the act of contrition Catholic prayers for good measure, but had stopped herself before ordering a rosary from Amazon. At one point last night, Isabel had paused in front of Hanna’s room, raising her eyebrows at the music emanating from Hanna’s stereo. “Well!” she’d said, pressing a hand to her chest. “It’s so nice that you’re getting into the spirit, Hanna!”
A fresh blast of Chanel No. 5 wafted into her nostrils as Hanna walked into the department store. A saleswoman at the MAC counter greeted her, and after giving her a perfunctory wave and then doing a once-over of the new eye shadow shades, Hanna drifted toward the clothes department. Mannequins dressed in pencil skirts and cashmere sweaters were positioned beside tables of folded tees in the softest cotton imaginable. The air smelled like Gucci Envy, and when Hanna glanced at herself in the mirror, she couldn’t help but notice that her butt looked smaller and her arms were definitely less puffy. The morning and evening trips to the fitness retreat were doing magic. Even Vince had commented on how great she looked this morning—then again, he’d also said that to Inez, who had linebacker shoulders, and Richard, whose stomach jiggled over the waistband of his shorts.
