Hanna had never been so tired in her life. Staying up last night, one eye on the door, certain Ali was going to burst through at any moment, was more exhausting than any all-nighter she’d ever pulled. Worse than the night when they’d thought they’d accidentally blinded Jenna Cavanaugh with a firework. Worse than the night of Mona’s death, when she’d lain awake all night, wondering how her best friend could have been A. Worse than the night they’d seen Ian Thomas’s dead body—Hanna couldn’t get the sight or the smell out of her mind. Today, her limbs felt like she’d run back-to-back marathons. It took everything in her to drive home, change her clothes, and make her early call-time for her new role as Hanna Marin.
There were knots in her stomach as she drove to the set. Why was she even doing this? She got to be Hanna, but the victory had come at too high a cost—she’d lost Hailey and Mike, and who knew how many other people on the set would hate her, too, seeing her only as a backstabbing, overly ambitious bitch? Plus, she looked like hell today, and she certainly wasn’t up to performing—Hank was probably going to fire her on the spot. Should she quit and save him the trouble?
She pulled to a red traffic light and looked at her phone. A local news feed for Ashland was on her screen, but there was still nothing on the police investigation at the pool house. But that had to be a good thing, right? She and the others had talked about it before they left Emily’s this morning. News that Alison DiLaurentis was still alive—and had killed someone else—was a huge deal. An FBI screwup, actually. Of course the cops would keep the press at bay for as long as they could until their PR people figured out how to positively spin things.
The light turned green, and she rolled through it and made the turn to the set. The parking lot was mostly empty, and as she drove past the soundstages, she peeked into the alley where BreAk a leg, Hanna had been written on the ground in chalk.
She found a spot right in front of her trailer. Sighing, she got out of the car and started toward the steps, trying to figure out how she was going to tell Hank she didn’t want the job after all. Then she noticed someone standing on the steps already, blocking her way in.
Hailey.
Hanna’s heart dropped. Hailey looked tired and frazzled, her dark hair in a messy knot on her head and her makeup a little smudged. When she regarded Hanna, her eyes were narrowed and her lips were taut. Hanna wished she could whirl around and pretend she hadn’t seen her. She so couldn’t do a confrontation right now.
But Hailey was right there, staring at her. After a moment, she nodded at Hanna in greeting. “So my agent sent me dailies for the film yesterday,” she began. “I got to see my performance as Hanna Marin up close and personal.”
“Oh,” Hanna said uncertainly, wondering where this conversation was going.
“And I was awful.”
Hanna’s head shot up. Hailey’s eyes were wide and she looked distraught, but not at Hanna. “I was dreadful, Hanna. I used this stupid voice, and I was chewing gum all the time—I’m not even sure why I did that. My movements were all over the place. My agent was, like, Thank God you got out of that thing. You were a train wreck.”
“No, you weren’t!” Hanna cried automatically.
Hailey lowered her chin. “Don’t lie to me again, Hanna. I was terrible. Hank was right to get rid of me. And you know what? I kind of knew I was terrible, deep down. I never felt right playing you.”
Hanna awkwardly twisted her hands. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” It was all she could think to say.
“Oh, whatever.” Hailey waved her hand. “You know who I do think would be good at playing Hanna Marin? You.”
Hanna laughed nervously. Hailey didn’t look like she was kidding, though. In fact, she was kind of . . . smiling.
“Actually, I don’t think I want the part,” Hanna said. “Not anymore.”
“Are you kidding?” Hailey burst out. “You’ll be amazing in this movie, Hanna—in a way that I wasn’t. So do it for me. Please.”
Hanna blinked hard, astonished this was happening. “I’m sorry I went behind your back and asked Hank. But I really thought you didn’t want the part anymore. I wasn’t trying to be mean, or—”
“I know.” Hailey leaned against Hanna’s trailer. “We’re all good.” She looked contemplative for a moment, then added, “And I’m sorry I sent in that photo to TMZ. That was pretty bitchy of me. I hope Mike isn’t too upset.”
Hanna looked away, tears prickling at the corners of her eyes. “Actually . . . I think it ruined my relationship with Mike forever.”
One corner of Hailey’s mouth inched up slightly. “Don’t be so sure about that.”
Then she turned. The trailer door opened. Mike stood in the doorway, dressed in a lacrosse sweatshirt and jeans and with a sheepish look on his face. Hanna’s mouth dropped open.
“Hey,” he said shyly to Hanna.
“H-hey,” she stammered just as shyly back.
Hailey beamed at both of them. “I called Mike this morning and explained everything, especially about how that kiss with Jared was completely initiated by him and totally harmless.” She smiled broadly. “You’ve got yourself a keeper, Hanna. I wish I were so lucky.”
“Thanks,” Hanna said tentatively. Then she peeked at Mike. He was still smiling. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about that kiss.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t give you the chance to explain,” Mike said. Then he grinned mischievously. “Although, now that you’re a big-shot movie star, do you think you can maybe get that Jared guy fired? I mean, not only do I not want him thinking he can go around kissing you on the reg, but he really doesn’t have my vibe at all.”