“Hello?” a boy’s voice said. “Is…is someone in there?”
Hanna put her hand to her mouth. What was a guy doing in this bathroom?
Unless…No. She hadn’t.
“Hanna?” The shoes stood in front of her stall. Hanna recognized the voice, too.
She peeked out the crack in the door. It was Lucas, the boy from Rive Gauche. She could see the edge of his nose, a long piece of white blond hair. There was a big GO ROSEWOOD SOCCER! pin on his lapel. “How did you know it was me?”
“I saw you come in here,” he answered. “You know this is the boys’ room, right?”
Hanna answered with an embarrassed sniff. She took off her wet blazer, shuffled out of the stall, walked to the sink, and forcefully pumped the soap dispenser. The soap had that fake almond smell Hanna hated.
Lucas’s eyes cut to the Old Faithful stall. “Did that thing erupt?”
“Yes.” And then Hanna couldn’t control her emotions anymore. She hunched over the sink, her tears dripping into the basin.
Lucas stood there a moment, then put his hand on the middle of her back. Hanna felt it shake a little. “It’s only Old Faithful. It erupts, like, every hour. You know that.”
“That’s not it.” Hanna grabbed a scratchy paper towel and blew her nose. “My best friend hates me. And she’s making everyone else hate me, too.”
“What? Of course she doesn’t. Don’t be crazy.”
“Yes, she does!” Hanna’s high-pitched voice bounced off the bathroom’s tiled walls. “Mona’s hanging out with these girls now who we used to hate, and she’s gossiping about me, all because I missed the Frenniversary and the skywriter wrote, ‘Fart with Mona,’ instead of, ‘Party with Mona,’ and she disinvited me to her birthday party, and I’m supposed to be her best friend!”
She said it all in a long sentence without breathing, despite where she was and who she was talking to. When she finished, she stared at Lucas, suddenly irritated that he was there and had heard it all.
Lucas was so tall he practically had to stoop to not hit his head on the ceiling. “I could start spreading rumors about her. Like maybe she’s got a disease where she can’t help but secretly eat her snot when no one’s looking?”
Hanna’s heart thawed. That was gross…but also funny…and sweet. “That’s okay.”
“Well the offer stands.” Lucas had an earnest look on his face. In the hideous green bathroom light, he was actually cute. “But hey! I know something we can do to cheer you up.”
Hanna looked at him incredulously. What, did Lucas think they were friends now, because he’d seen her in the bathroom? Still, she was curious. “What?”
“Can’t tell you. It’s top secret. I’ll come get you tomorrow morning.”
Hanna shot him a warning look. “Like, a date?”
Lucas raised his hands in surrender. “Absolutely not. Just as…friends.”
Hanna swallowed. She needed a friend right now. Bad. “All right,” she said quietly, feeling too exhausted to argue. Then, with a sigh, she pushed out of the boys’ Old Faithful bathroom and headed for her next class. Strangely, she felt a teensy bit better.
But as she turned the corner to the foreign languages wing, Hanna reached around to put her blazer back on and felt something sticking to the back. She pulled off a wrinkled piece of paper. Feel sorry for me, it said, in spiky pink handwriting.
Hanna looked around at the passing students, but no one was paying attention. How long had she been walking around with the note on her? Who could have done this? It could have been anyone. She’d been in that crowd during the fire drill. Everyone had been there.
Hanna looked down at the paper again and turned it over in her hands. On the other side was a typewritten note. Hanna got that familiar sinking feeling in her stomach.
Hanna: Remember when you saw Mona leaving the Bill Beach plastic surgery clinic? Hello, lipo!! But shh! You didn’t hear it from me.
—A
20 LIFE IMITATES ART
Thursday afternoon at lunch, Aria turned the corner to Rosewood Day’s administrative wing. All the teachers had offices here and often tutored or advised students during their lunch periods.
Aria stopped at Ezra’s closed office door. It had changed a lot since the beginning of the year. He’d installed a white board, and it was chock-full of blue-inked notes from students. Mr. Fitz—Want to talk about my Fitzgerald report. I’ll stop by after school.—Kelly. There was a Hamlet quote at the bottom: O villain, villain, smiling, damned villain! Below the marker board was a cutout of a New Yorker cartoon of a dog on a therapist’s couch. And on the doorknob was a DO NOT DISTURB sign from a Day’s Inn; Ezra had turned it to the DISTURB side: MAID,
PLEASE CLEAN UP THIS ROOM.
Aria tentatively knocked. “Come in,” she heard him say from the other side. She’d expected Ezra to be with another student—from snippets she heard in class, she’d thought his lunchtime office hours were always busy—but here he was alone, with a Happy Meal box on his desk. The room smelled like McNuggets.
“Aria!” Ezra exclaimed, raising an eyebrow. “This is a surprise. Sit down.”
She plopped down on Ezra’s scratchy tweed couch—the same kind that was in the Rosewood Day headmaster’s office. She pointed at his desk. “Happy Meal?”
He smiled sheepishly. “I like the toys.” He held up a car from some kids’ movie. “McNugget?” He proffered the box. “I got barbecue.”
She waved him away. “I don’t eat meat.”
“That’s right.” He ate a fry, his eyes locked with hers. “I forgot.”
Aria felt a swoosh of something—a mix of intimacy and discomfort. Ezra looked away, probably feeling it too. She looked around on his desk. It was littered with stacks of paper, a mini zen rock garden, and about a thousand books.
“So…” Ezra wiped his mouth with a napkin, not noticing Aria’s expression. “What can I do for you?”
Aria leaned her elbow on the couch’s arm. “Well, I’m wondering if I can have an extension on the Scarlet Letter essay that’s due tomorrow.”
He set down his soda. “Really? I’m surprised. You’re never late with anything.”
“I know,” she mumbled sheepishly. But the Ackards’ house was not conducive to studying. One, it was too quiet—Aria was used to studying while simultaneously listening to music, the TV, and Mike yammering on the phone in the next room. Two, it was hard to concentrate when she felt like someone was…watching her. “But it’s not a big deal,” she went on. “All I need is this weekend.”
Ezra scratched his head. “Well…I haven’t set a policy on extensions yet. But all right. Just this once. Next time, I’m going to have to mark you down a grade.”
She pushed her hair behind her ears. “I’m not going to make a habit of it.”
“Good. So, what, are you not liking the book? Or haven’t you started it?”
“I finished it today. But I hated it. I hated Hester Prynne.”
“Why?”
Aria fiddled with the buckle on her Urban Outfitters ivory suede flats. “She assumes her husband’s lost at sea, and so she goes and has an affair,” she muttered.
Ezra leaned forward on his elbow, looking amused. “But her husband isn’t a very good man, either. That’s what makes it complicated.”