Hanna had to do damage control, and fast. She parked under the weeping willow and stared at her dad’s new house, mustering up the courage.
Legs shaking, she pushed through the door into the house. She glanced at herself in the big mirror in the powder room just off the pantry. Her auburn hair was bouncy and full, her eyes were bright, and her makeup was perfect. At least she looked fabulous.
Her dad and Isabel, his new wife, were in the kitchen. Isabel, whose skin had paled considerably in the past few months—she used to fake-tan nonstop, but Hanna suspected campaign advisers had told her she looked too orange on camera—was loading dishes into the dishwasher. Mr. Marin was at the island, flipping through pictures. He looked up at her and smiled broadly. “Hanna!” he cried, as if he hadn’t seen her in months. “How are you?”
Hanna gave him a suspicious look. It wasn’t every day that her dad was so happy to see her. Don’t tell him, a voice in her head goaded.
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.”