Deadly

But she had to . . . before A did.

She walked over to him. “Dad, I need to talk to you.”

He sat back on the stool, looking suddenly scared. Isabel paused at the sink. “What’s going on?” she asked.

Hanna glared at her. “I said I wanted to talk to my dad, not you.”

Mr. Marin glanced at Isabel uncertainly, then back at Hanna. “Whatever you have to tell me you can say in front of Isabel.”

Hanna squeezed her eyes shut. Seconds later, there were footsteps in the hall, and Hanna’s stepsister, Kate, appeared, her hair wet from the shower. Perfect. The whole family was here to listen to her latest screwup.

“Hanna?” Mr. Marin encouraged gently. “What’s up?”

Hanna bit the inside of her cheek. Say it. “I’ve been keeping something from you,” she said quietly. “Something I did last June.”

She couldn’t look at her dad as the words spilled out of her mouth. She could literally feel his confusion leading to shock leading to disappointment. Isabel made little gasps. At one point, she even grabbed her chest like she was having a heart attack.

“And you’re telling me this . . . why?” her father said, when Hanna was finished.

Hanna paused. She couldn’t tell him about A. “Well, a few people know about it. And if they wanted to ruin your campaign, they could tell on me.” She swallowed hard. “I thought I was doing the right thing at the time—Madison was so drunk. If she drove herself home, she would have definitely gotten hurt—and hurt someone else, too. And, I mean, someone swerved into my lane—I didn’t know what to do. But when I crashed, I freaked. And I didn’t stand and take the rap because I wanted to protect you and your campaign. I know now that was wrong, though.”

Isabel slapped her sides. “Wrong?” she squealed. “Hanna, it’s beyond wrong. You’ve been nothing but a burden for this campaign. Do you realize that every step of the way, we’ve had to do damage control for the trouble you’ve gotten yourself into? Do you know how much money we’ve spent to clean up your messes?”

“I’m sorry,” Hanna squeaked, tears coming to her eyes.

Isabel turned to Hanna’s father. “I told you this would happen. I told you it was a bad idea to bring Hanna back into your life.”

“Isabel . . .” Mr. Marin looked torn.

Isabel’s eyes widened. “I know you think it, too! I know you wish you were rid of her as much as I do!”

Hanna gasped.

“Mom!” Kate’s voice rang out through the room. “Hanna is his daughter!”

“Kate’s right,” Mr. Marin said.

Hanna sucked in her stomach. Isabel looked like she’d been slapped.

Mr. Marin ran a hand over his forehead. “Hanna, I’d be lying if I told you what you did is not upsetting on a lot of levels. But it doesn’t matter. It’s done. I just want you to be okay.”

Isabel marched over him. “Tom, what are you talking about? You can’t let her get away with this.”

Even Hanna was amazed. She thought her dad would yell at her, kick her out, something.

Her father peeked at her from behind the hand that covered his face. “I thought you were going to tell me something else.” He looked guilty. “I received a letter this morning. My head is still spinning. It said you wanted to commit suicide.”

“Oh my God,” Kate gasped. “Hanna!”

Hanna opened and closed her mouth. First Mike, now her dad? This was getting ridiculous.

“I called your mom, but she said you weren’t home. I called your cell phone—twice—but you didn’t pick up.”

Hanna twisted her mouth. She’d seen those calls from her dad. She hadn’t answered because she wasn’t prepared quite yet to talk to him.

“I was so worried you were going to . . .” He trailed off, pressing his lips together. His chin wobbled, and his throat bobbed as he swallowed.

Isabel shifted in the corner. There was a disgruntled look on her face, but she didn’t say anything.

“Dad, I’m okay,” Hanna said softly, walking toward him and wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

Mr. Marin squeezed her tight. “I just want you to be happy,” he said in a thick voice. “And if this accident was part of why you wrote that note, if you were afraid about telling me or how I’d react, don’t worry about it.” He sniffed hard. “I’ve probably been too focused on the campaign. Maybe I should withdraw.”

“Tom, have you lost your mind?” Isabel screeched.

Hanna pulled back from her father. The right thing to do was to come clean that she’d never intended on killing herself, but his attention felt so good. Besides, she did feel overwhelmed. She did need his help.

And though she was dying to ask her dad to see the note, she didn’t want to raise his suspicion that there could be a new A.

“Don’t pull out of the campaign,” she told him instead. “I’m fine, I promise. And I’m sorry, again. Whatever I can do to make this right, I’ll do it.”

Mr. Marin patted Hanna on the back. Isabel’s face got redder and redder, and finally she let out a closemouthed groan and stormed out of the room. Kate fidgeted in the doorway. Hanna locked eyes with her and shot her a grateful smile. What she really wanted to do was to give her stepsister a hug, but she was still afraid to leave her father’s grasp.

Mr. Marin’s eyes were red and watery; Hanna hadn’t seen him cry in a long, long time. “I think it would be good if you made amends with the girl. What was her name, Madison?”

Hanna nodded. “I didn’t know how to find her until a few weeks ago. Her cousin is Naomi Zeigler, though, from school.” She figured her father would remember Naomi—Hanna used to complain about her when she and her dad talked. “She could tell me how to get in touch with Madison.”

“Okay. I want you to reach out to Madison’s family and go to see her. After that, I’m thinking you and I do a public service announcement about drinking and driving. If you’re amenable, that is.”

Hanna squinted. “What do you mean?”

“You admit what you did on TV. We do the media circuit talking about it.”

“You want to call attention to this?” Maybe her father had lost his mind.

“We’ll be drawing attention in the right way. Remember, one of my issues is underage drinking. If you’re comfortable with it, you can tell your story and support the stricter underage-drinking penalties I want to enforce.”

Hanna twisted her mouth. Only losers wanted drinking laws to be stricter. But she couldn’t very well say that right now. “Okay. I guess I can do that.”

“Then we have a plan.” Mr. Marin’s gray eyes canvassed her face. “Oh, Hanna. I almost lost you.”

There was a huge lump in Hanna’s throat. You did lose me, she wanted to remind him. He lost her when he up and left Hanna and her mom, found Isabel, and started a new life. But whatever. Maybe that didn’t matter anymore.

Mr. Marin opened his arms. “Come here.”

Hanna hugged him and laid her chin on his chest, inhaling the smell of detergent and soap. She smiled into his scratchy sweater. Here was the release she’d been waiting for after they confessed to the police. Nothing felt snagged in her brain anymore. No troubles poked her like splinters, stopping her in her tracks.

But then something caught her eye out the window. She turned just as a shadow slipped out of sight. Had it been Ali, listening? Helper A, monitoring? Then she remembered it didn’t matter if they were. She stood up straighter and stared through the glass, then stuck out her tongue and rolled her eyes. Take that, she mouthed.

It felt so frickin’ good.

13

THE WINGED HORSE

That Wednesday night, Emily changed into a Marple Newtown Relay Carnival T-shirt and a pair of Victoria’s Secret Pink sweats, her favorite pajama combo. Just as she was pulling back the covers of her twin bed, she felt a presence in the doorway. She yelped and whirled around, half certain it was A. Carolyn backed away.

“God, it’s just me,” her sister said, sounding offended.

“Sorry,” Emily said quickly. “I guess I was off in another world.”

They stood silently for a few beats. Emily expected Carolyn to move on down the hall—Carolyn was sleeping in the guest room while she was here, so they were no longer sharing the space—but she remained where she was. Emily shifted. Should she invite her in? They weren’t exactly fighting now . . . but were they friends? Last night after dinner, Emily had retreated to the den and turned on a snowboard competition on NBC Extreme, Carolyn’s favorite channel. Carolyn had sat down next to her, but they hadn’t said a single word through the entire competition, not even when one of the contestants took a scary-looking tumble off the ramp. That was their big sisterly bonding time?

Now Carolyn leaned against the doorjamb. “So I was thinking about going to a bar.”

Emily was so surprised that she sat down on the bed. “Now?”

Carolyn set her mouth in a line. “Don’t sound so excited. I thought we could hang, but forget it.”

“Carolyn!” Emily whined, springing up from the bed. “Wait! A bar . . . with alcohol?” At the Rosewood Day French Festival last year, which was held during lunch, the school had allowed the students to sample a glass of wine each, provided no one drove anywhere. Carolyn had abstained even from that, opting for Dr Pepper.

She caught her sister’s arm. “I’ll go to a bar with you. Which one?”

Carolyn stepped into the bathroom. “It’s a surprise. Meet me in ten minutes. We’ll go out the back door and take the minivan. It’s in the driveway.”

Emily raised an eyebrow. The back door was farther from their parents’ bedroom—they wouldn’t hear. Same with taking the car in the driveway: They always heard a car start in the garage. Was goody-goody, rule-abiding Carolyn sneaking out?

Her sister shut the bathroom door before Emily could ask. She smiled to herself, wondering what she was in for. Then again, did she really care? She was just happy her sister was making the effort after so, so long.

“Pegasus?” Emily blurted thirty minutes later as Carolyn steered the minivan into a parking lot. In front of them was a long, squat building with floor-to-ceiling windows and a large, neon winged horse hanging over the front door. Three women in matching plaid shirts sashayed toward the entrance. Two skinny girls in miniskirts held hands in the window.

Emily and Carolyn were in a wooded neighborhood in West Hollis nicknamed The Purple Triangle . . . for obvious reasons. Emily had never dared go into Lilith’s Tomes, the lesbian bookshop; Closer to Fine, the lesbian teahouse; or Pegasus, the only lesbian bar in the area, but she’d always been curious. She didn’t think Carolyn even knew about this neighborhood, though.

Carolyn shifted into park. “There’s a cool singer tonight.” She started across the gravel lot toward the front door.

Emily scampered after her sister and grabbed her arm. “We can go to a regular bar in Hollis. We don’t have to go here.”