“I suppose I have some free time today,” Hanna said.
“Great. Run along, then.” Mr. Marin rose from the table and cleared everyone’s plates. “Izz? Which room do you want to unpack first?”
“Uch, let’s start with the kitchen. I’m not drinking out of this for another second.” She wrinkled her nose at one of Hanna’s favorite mugs, a majolica goblet her parents had bought on a trip to Tuscany.
The two of them left the room, chattering about which box their wineglasses might be in. Hanna rose from her seat. “So, I’m ready to go when you are,” she said to Kate. “Is their Nordstrom any good? Is it true there’s a Uniqlo? That place has amazing cashmere sweaters for pennies.”
Kate let out a snort. “God, Hanna,” she said, her expression suddenly venomous. “I was just saying I’d go to the mall to get your dad and my mom off my back. Did you actually think I was going to go anywhere with you?”
She sauntered out of the room, her chestnut ponytail swinging. Hanna’s mouth made an O. Kate had set a trap, and she was the dumb animal who’d walked right into its steel jaws.
Kate paused in the hall, pressed some buttons on her phone, and then held it to her ear. “Hey,” she whispered to whoever had picked up. “It’s me.” She laughed flirtatiously. It figured. Kate had only been here for two days and she already had a boyfriend.
Hanna twisted her napkin so forcefully she was surprised it didn’t rip. Whatever—she and Kate probably would’ve had a horrible time shopping together anyway. Then, she heard a faint snicker spiraling from somewhere close by. On instinct, she glanced out the windows, certain she’d see a blond flash slipping through the trees. That was crazy, though. A—Mona—was gone.
Chapter 2
Puke-a-tan
A few days later, Hanna sat on the cushy microfiber couch at her boyfriend Lucas Beattie’s house, in front of the soft glow of the family’s tinsel-heavy Christmas tree. The TV was playing an infomercial for a new ab-crunching device—“Get your body ripped by New Year’s!”—the overly loud sales guy kept screaming. On the floor in front of them was a gift tin filled with butter, cheese, and caramel popcorn.
“The Kate worship was even worse than usual at dinner yesterday,” Hanna moaned as she pushed another handful of cheese popcorn into her mouth. “All my dad and Isabel talked about was this absolutely wonderful speech Kate gave during tenth-grade commencement last year. And Kate just sat there beaming, all yeah, I know I’m awesome.”
“I’m sorry, Han.” Lucas took a sip from his can of Mountain Dew. “You really don’t think you guys can become friends?”
“Absolutely not.” Hanna had decided not to tell Lucas how Kate hadn’t wanted to go to the mall with her. She couldn’t believe she’d been so naïve as to fall for Kate’s kiss-ass tricks. “I want nothing to do with her. And I think I’m allergic to her perfume—I’ve sneezed about five hundred times since she moved in. I bet I’m going to get hives.”
She slumped dramatically back on the couch and stared blankly at the Disney-themed Advent calendar across the room. Hanna hadn’t grown up with holiday decorations. She was Jewish, and after her dad left, she and her mom barely celebrated Hanukkah. But Lucas’s mother was obsessed with Advent calendars—they had three different ones pinned up to the fridge, a cloth one with stuffed toys in each of its twenty-five pockets tied to the stair rail, and a small glittery one hanging up in the powder room. Lucas put his arm around her and began to stroke her hair. Hanna shut her eyes and sighed, feeling a teensy bit better.
When Hanna and Mona were BFFs—and ruling the school together—Lucas wasn’t exactly the kind of guy on the top of Hanna’s Boys I Want to Date list. He didn’t hang out with the right clique, didn’t play a cool sport like soccer or lacrosse, and he was more into after-school clubs and Eagle Scouting than wild weekend parties. In fact, in sixth grade, Ali had started a rumor that Lucas was a hermaphrodite, which had plunged him into dorkdom. More recently, Mona had made fun of Hanna’s friendship with Lucas, even threatening that it would bring down their popularity quotient.
But Mona and Ali were gone, and Lucas was shaping up to be the best boyfriend ever. How many guys would listen to her whine for hours about how Mona had screwed her over or how sucky her new family situation was? How many guys would open the door this evening, gaze upon Hanna in her bloated jeans and oversized Philadelphia Eagles sweatshirt, and say she looked smoking hot?
“Can I hide out at your house for the foreseeable future?” Hanna begged. “I don’t know if I can bear going back there.”
“That would be awesome,” Lucas said. “But—”
“It would be awesome,” Hanna cut him off, sitting up. “We could do stuff after school, go to Rive Gauche every night, dress up and crash the holiday party at the Rosewood Country Club . . .”
Lucas bit his lip. “Hanna, I—”
“Maybe my dad would even let me stay overnight here!” Hanna added, getting more and more excited. “I could claim that my allergy to Kate’s perfume is really, really serious. Do you think your parents would go for that? I could sleep in the guest room . . . but maybe you could sneak over in the middle of the night.” She winked.
“Hanna.” Lucas’s pale blond hair fell into his face as he sat up. “Slow down. I’m actually going away. Tomorrow.”
Hanna blinked. “Away?”
“My dad just sprung it on us. It’s an early Christmas present—he’s taking us on a fourteen-day trip to the Yucatán peninsula. We’re going with my dad’s best friend from college and his family.”
The inside of Hanna’s mouth suddenly tasted sour. “Fourteen days . . . as in two weeks?”
“Uh-huh.” Lucas gave her a little smile. “I’m really psyched.”
“But we’re still in school,” Hanna sounded out, reaching for another handful of popcorn. It was only December 7—Rosewood Day didn’t let out for Christmas and New Year’s until later in the month. “Why doesn’t your dad wait until winter break?”
Lucas raised both shoulders. “They got an amazing deal on the flights and hotel rooms. And my brother’s flying in from college for a few days, too. My dad worked it out with Rosewood Day—I’ll take the makeup exams between Christmas and New Year’s. And at least I’ll be back for most of the break.” Lucas gently took her hands in his and squeezed them. “You and I can spend every minute together then.”
Hanna pulled her hands away from Lucas’s, feeling a huge lump in her throat. “But I need you now.”
Lucas threw up his arms helplessly. “I’m sorry, but I’ve wanted to go to the Yucatán for years. It has amazing hiking. Great beaches. And it’s not like my folks could change their tickets now.”
Before she could say anything, the doorbell rang to the tune of “Jingle Bells.”
Lucas jumped up and parted the front curtains. A steel-blue Mercedes SUV had pulled into the driveway. “It’s the Rumsons, the family we’re traveling with. They’re dropping off the itinerary. You’ll love them. And I’ll bet you have a lot in common with Brooke.”
“Brooke?” Hanna asked warily, staying on the couch.
Mr. Beattie bounded in from the kitchen and pulled the door open, letting in a whoosh of cold air. “Wade! Patricia! It’s been far too long!”
Mrs. Beattie emerged from the upstairs, grinning at her guests. “We are just so excited!” she squealed at the couple who had just stepped into the foyer. “And so is Lucas!” She pushed Lucas toward them. The husband, Wade, who wore a Burberry barn jacket and had blindingly white teeth, pumped Lucas’s hand. The wife, Patricia, whose toothpick arms were apparent even under her snug-fitting cashmere peacoat, gave Lucas a kiss on the cheek.
“Oh. My. God,” said a voice from the porch. The adults parted, and an overly tan, scarily skinny, gum-snapping teenage girl with long, teased black hair, wet-looking red lipstick, and jutting boobs marched right up to Lucas and clapped her long-fingernailed hands on his shoulders. “Lukey!” she screamed in a nasal voice. “You look uh-mazing!”
Lukey?
“Whoa. Brooke.” Lucas smiled shakily. “You look . . . different.”
The Rumsons nudged the Beatties. “You two have both grown up a bit since we last saw you, huh?” Mrs. Rumson said.
“Remember the kind of trouble they used to get into?” Lucas’s mother clucked. “Remember all the secret clubs they formed?”
“They were inseparable. I always said those two would get married someday,” Mrs. Rumson murmured before all the parents bustled off to the kitchen.
Hanna’s head snapped up. Married?
Brooke poked Lucas’s shoulder. “When you said I looked different, I hope you meant gorgeous!” She traced her finger over Lucas’s T-shirt, then let her hand fall to the waistband of his jeans. “Has someone been working out? And where’d you get those sexy new clothes?”
“Ahem.” Hanna stood up and strode into the foyer. This flirtation had gone on long enough. She had been the one who’d encouraged Lucas to buy the True Religion jeans and streamlined polo from Armani Exchange he was wearing.
“Oh.” Lucas glanced at Hanna. “Brooke, this is my girlfriend, Hanna.”
“What’s up?” Brooke took in Hanna’s unwashed hair, schlumpy Eagles sweatshirt, and ratty old Sevens. A look crossed her face that said, She’s no threat. She stepped closer to Lucas. “Aren’t you so excited to go on this trip? I’ve heard the beachside parties there are amazing. And I can’t wait to work on my tan.”
Hanna pressed her lips together to keep from snickering. This girl was already so orange she looked like she’d been born in a tanning booth.
“It’s going to rock,” Lucas said. “I was just telling Hanna about it. There’s amazing hiking, sightseeing, food . . .”
“. . . and the nude beach,” Brooke added, licking her lips.
“Uh, excuse me?” Hanna bleated.
Brooke slung her arm around Lucas’s shoulder. “You’re in for the treat of your life, Lukey—everyone sunbathes naked down there. And you and I are going to do Jell-O shots every night.”
The cheese popcorn rose back up in Hanna’s throat. She had to put a stop to this. “Um, I need to talk to you.” She grabbed Lucas’s arm and pulled him into the den, which was littered with video game boxes, old magazines, and three more Advent calendars, one of which looked like it was made entirely out of puff paint.
There was an innocent smile on Lucas’s face. “Is everything okay?”
Was everything okay? Hanna took a few breaths to steady her nerves. “What do you think, Lukey?”
Lucas ran his hand over his hair. “Yeah, Brooke used to call me that when she was little—she couldn’t pronounce Lucas.”
