Wicked (Pretty Little Liars #5)

She sighed. “This is popularity we’re talking about, Lucas,” she said in an overly simplistic voice. “It’s very…calculated. It’s not something you’d understand.”

Lucas’s eyes widened. He pressed himself against the French doors. “I wouldn’t understand because I’m not popular, right? Well, sorry, Hanna. Sorry I’m not cool enough for you.”

He waved his hand dismissively and stalked to the window. A sour, oily taste filled Hanna’s mouth. She’d just made things worse.

Kate’s thin arm shot up through the crowd. “Omigod, Hanna! You’re here!”

Hanna whipped her head around. Naomi and Riley were waving her over too, their smiles wide. It would look ridiculous if she just turned around and walked away, after she’d so obviously seen them. At least she was in her own dress tonight, and not some seam-popping thing Mona had sent her.

Steeling herself, Hanna slowly walked toward them. Naomi moved over, clearing a space for Hanna on the big leather couch. “Where have you been?” she asked, giving Hanna an enormous hug.

“Oh, around,” Hanna said vaguely. Across the room, Lucas was watching her. She looked away fast.

“I’ve been worried about you,” Kate said, her eyes solemn and serious. “This whole Ian thing is scary. I totally don’t blame you for going MIA.”

“Well, we’re so glad you’re here now,” Naomi said. “You missed an awesome pre-party.” She bent down and whispered into Hanna’s ear. “Both Eric Kahn and Mason Byers came. They’re both totally into Kate.”

Hanna licked her lips, shrugging, not really wanting to get into an actual conversation. But Kate was now fluffing the chiffon hem of Hanna’s dress. “Naomi took me to the best boutique called Otter yesterday, which is where I got this.” She pointed to the bold Swarovski crystal pendant around her neck. “We wanted you to come too, but you weren’t picking up your phone.” She stuck out her lip in a pout. “But we’ll have to go next week, right? They have these super-dark William Rast jeans there that would look so cute on you.”

“Uh-huh,” Hanna mumbled. “Sure.” She reached for a wine bottle that was tucked behind one of the chairs. Unfortunately, it was empty.

“Here, have the rest of my glass,” Kate said quickly, handing over her half-filled goblet. “I’m buzzed from the pre-party anyway.”

Hanna stared dizzily into Kate’s glass, the dark red wine reminding her of blood. It’ll work, Kate had whispered. It’s almost time! I can’t wait! So what the hell was all this friendliness? Was it possible Hanna had made a mistake?

And then it hit her. Of course. Kate was fake-friending her. Hanna felt silly for not realizing it before.

The rules of fake-friending were simple. If Hanna wanted to get revenge on someone for something she had done to Mona, she acted as if she and Mona were fighting, infiltrated the other girl’s group, and bided her time until she could stab the girl in the back. Maybe Mona had told Kate about fake-friending back when she’d become A.

Eric Kahn walked over and plopped down on a big paisley cushion on the floor next to the couch. He was taller and lankier than Noel, but had the same big, brown eyes and toothy smile. “Hey, Hanna,” he said. “Where have you been hiding this pretty stepsister of yours?”

“You make it sound like she had me stuffed in a closet,” Kate giggled, her eyes sparkling.

“Did you?” Eric asked Hanna, which made Kate giggle even harder.

Noel and Mason sat down, too, and Mike Montgomery and his date crowded in next to Riley and Naomi. There were so many people around them, Hanna couldn’t get up if she tried. She searched the room for Lucas, but he had vanished.

Eric leaned forward, stroking Kate’s wrist. “So, how long have you girls known each other?”

Kate looked at Hanna, thinking. “I guess…four years ago, was it? We were in seventh grade. But we didn’t speak for a long time. Hanna only came to my house in Annapolis once. I think she was too cool for me—she brought Alison DiLaurentis. Remember that huge lunch we had, Hanna?”

Kate gave Hanna a wide, smirking smile, Hanna’s binging secret probably on the tip of her tongue. Hanna felt like she was on a roller coaster that was slowly climbing to the top of a hill. Any minute now, it would spill down the other side, and she’d lose her stomach…and her reputation.

Fake-friending is simple, Mona probably said to Kate, as if she already knew that one day, Kate and Hanna would be forced to live under the same roof. Just get one little secret from Hanna. That’s all it’ll take to ruin her for good.

She thought of A’s note, too. Ruin her before she ruins you.

“Did you guys know Kate has herpes?” Hanna blurted out. It didn’t even sound like her voice, but the voice of someone who was far meaner.

Everyone looked up sharply. Wine spewed out of Mike Montgomery’s mouth onto the carpet. Eric Kahn quickly dropped Kate’s hand.

“She told me earlier this week,” Hanna went on, a toxic, black feeling metastasizing through her body. “Some guy gave it to her in Annapolis. You should probably know that, Eric, before you try and get in her pants.”

“Hanna,” Kate whispered desperately. Her face had turned as white as her gown. “What are you doing?”

Hanna smiled smugly. You were going to do the same thing to me, bitch. Noel Kahn took another big swig of wine, shuddering. Naomi and Riley glanced at each other uneasily and stood up. “Is that true?” Mike Montgomery wrinkled his nose. “Nasty.”

“It’s not true,” Kate squealed, looking around at everyone. “Really, guys, Hanna just made that up!”

But the damage was already done. “Ugh,” someone whispered behind them.

“Valtrex,” James Freed coughed into his hand. Kate stood up. Everyone took another big step away from her, as if the herpes virus could jump off her body and onto theirs.

Kate shot Hanna a horrified look. “Why did you just do that?”

“‘It’s almost time,’” Hanna recited in a monotone voice. “‘I can’t wait.’”

Kate gawked at her, confused. Then she took a few steps back, fumbling for the library door. When she slammed it shut, the crystals on the chandelier tinkled together melodically.

Someone gradually turned the music back up. “Wow,” Naomi murmured, sidling up to Hanna. “No wonder you haven’t wanted to spend time with her the past couple days.”

“So who’s the guy who gave it to her?” Riley whispered, instantly at Naomi’s side.

“I knew there was something skanky about her,” Naomi sneered.

Hanna brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. She’d expected to feel amazing and powerful, but instead she felt kind of shitty. Something about what had just happened seemed a little…off. She set Kate’s wineglass down on the floor and started for the door, just wanting to get out of there. Only, someone was blocking her way.

Lucas glowered at her, his lips small and pursed. It was obvious he’d seen everything. “Oh,” Hanna said in a meek voice. “Hi.”

Lucas crossed his arms over his chest. There was a sour look on his face. “Bravo, Hanna. I guess you got her before she got you, huh?”

“You don’t understand,” Hanna protested. She took a step toward him to put her arm around his shoulders, but Lucas held up his hand to stop her.

“I understand completely,” he said icily. “And I think I liked you better when you weren’t popular. When you were just…normal.” He slung his camera back around his neck and walked toward the door.

“Lucas, wait!” Hanna cried, stunned.

Lucas stopped in the middle of the enormous Oriental rug. There were a few strands of dog hair on his dark suit jacket—he’d probably snuggled with his Saint Bernard, Clarissa, after he got dressed. All of a sudden, Hanna loved him for not caring about looking perfect. She loved him for not caring about popularity. She loved him for every dorky thing he did.

“I’m sorry.” Hanna’s eyes filled with tears, not caring that everyone was watching.

Lucas’s face was stony and impassive. “We’re done, Hanna.” He turned the doorknob that led to the foyer.

“Lucas!” Hanna beseeched, her heart lurching. But he was gone.

28

SOCIALLY AWKWARD ARTIST NO MORE

Aria stood in front of an enormous oil portrait of Spencer’s great-great-great-grandfather Duncan Hastings, a debonair man awkwardly clutching a floppy-eared, sad-eyed beagle in his lap. Duncan had the same exact ski-slope nose Spencer did, and it looked like he was wearing women’s rings on his fingers. Rich people were so weird.

Aria supposed she should be in the library with the rest of her peers—Mrs. Hastings had all but shoved her in there when she’d arrived. But what did she really have to say to a bunch of prissy Typical Rosewood Girls in designer gowns and Cartier jewels they’d stolen out of their mothers’ trousseaus? Did she really want them judging the long, black, backless silk dress she was wearing? And did she really want to put up with drunken Noel and all his touchy-feely cronies? She’d rather hang out here with good old grumpy Duncan, getting drunk on top-shelf gin.

Aria wasn’t quite sure why she’d come to the benefit at all. Spencer had urged them all to be here for moral support now that Ian was on the loose, but Aria hadn’t seen Spencer or any of her other old friends since she’d arrived twenty minutes ago. And it wasn’t like she wanted to discuss Ian’s scary and mysterious disappearance with anyone else, as the rest of the guests were doing. She would rather crawl into her walk-in closet, curl up into a ball with Pigtunia, her stuffed pig puppet, and wait for all this to blow over, like she did when there were thunderstorms.

The library door opened and a familiar figure strode out. Mike was dressed in a dark gray suit, an untucked purple-and-black striped button-down, and shiny, square-toed shoes. A small, pale girl followed behind him. They walked right up to Aria and stopped. “There you are,” Mike said. “I wanted to introduce you to Savannah.”

“Uh, hi.” Aria offered Savannah her hand, shocked Mike was actually letting her meet his girlfriend. “I’m Aria. Mike’s sister.”

“Nice to meet you.” Savannah’s smile was wide and sweet. Her long, curly, dark chocolate-colored hair rippled down her back, and she had pinchable pink cheeks. A pretty black silk dress hugged her curves but didn’t cut off her circulation, and the small red clutch she was carrying didn’t have a logo plastered all over it.

She seemed…normal. Aria couldn’t have been more astounded if Mike had shown up with a seal from the Philadelphia Zoo as his date. Or, for that matter, an Icelandic horse.

Savannah touched Mike’s shoulder. “I’m going to grab us some apps, okay? The shrimp looks amazing.”

“Sure,” Mike said, smiling at her like an actual human. As Savannah skipped away, Aria let out a low whistle, crossing her arms over her chest.