“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.”
Carolyn’s eyebrows made a V. “My roommate at Stanford is gay. I’ve been to a lesbian bar in Palo Alto with her a bunch of times.”
Again, Carolyn had that defensive, I’m-pretending-I’m-not-mad-at-you-but-I’m-still-furious tone, almost like she expected Emily to apologize to her for assuming she was being narrow-minded. Emily raised her palms to the sky in surrender. “Okay. Let’s go.”
They were halfway across the parking lot when Emily heard a giggle. The cars cast long shadows onto the ground. There was a rustling sound behind a picnic table. Even if it’s Ali, I’m safe, she thought, glancing at the black town car that had parked discreetly in the back of the lot.
Still, there was something spooky about the fact that it really could be Ali. If Ali walked up to Emily right now, would Emily be vengeful and punishing, or would she smile weakly and accept her apology? In the days since they’d told the cops, Emily had felt guilty twinges. She’d told them everything. The cops would be looking for Ali now. Emily didn’t love Ali anymore, though—the guilt was more a knee-jerk reaction. She wondered how long it would take to go away.
Inside were sounds of a female singing voice and an acoustic guitar. Emily followed Carolyn inside, noting the silvery streamers hanging from the ceiling, the fruity-smelling candles on the bar, the giant tropical fish tank, and the plushy armchairs—which were all filled with girls. There was a stage set up at the back with a dance floor in front of it. Several couples were waltzing. Two girls were making out on the windowsill. But other than that, the bar didn’t seem that different from anywhere else in Hollis—the same beers were on tap, and the same dart boards and pool tables stood at the side. There was even a hockey game on a small screen over the bar.
Carolyn hovered at the edge of the bar. Emily stood next to her, not knowing what to say. A pretty black girl caught Emily’s eye. She raised her hand and waved. Emily looked down, feeling shy. Carolyn still didn’t say a word. Were they just going to stand here all night?
The singer played a Beatles cover, then something by Bob Marley. Suddenly, Carolyn whirled around. “We need to lighten the mood. Want to dance?”
Emily almost burst out laughing. Carolyn totally wasn’t the dancing type. But her sister looked serious, her arms outstretched, her hips rocking back and forth. “Okay,” Emily said, following.
They walked onto the dance floor and started to move to the beat of the reggae song. The pretty black girl who’d waved at Emily sidled up to her and took her hand, but Emily gave her a demure smile. “I have a girlfriend.”
“Don’t we all?” The black girl smiled, showing off the straightest teeth Emily had ever seen. “It’s just a dance, honey. No strings.” Then she handed Emily a champagne flute full of bubbling liquid. “I’m River. And this is on me.”
Emily glanced at her sister, who was grinning at her. Suddenly, amid the hand-holding, cheek-kissing, slow-dancing couples, Emily could almost feel Jordan’s soft skin in her palm, smell the jasmine perfume on her neck. She missed Jordan times a million, but it was only a dance and a glass of champagne. Whatever.