Edith had said Hanna was too skinny even when Hanna was a chunky, ugly loser, but it still felt good to hear it. The sugar soothed her. A third cookie might even make her feel euphoric. You shouldn’t, a voice said inside her head. You had all that popcorn at Lucas’s. You’re wearing your fat jeans, and even they feel tight.
But the cookies smelled so good. Hanna glanced up and saw Kate beaming at another one of her father’s work colleagues, and something inside her broke open. Don’t, she willed, but her hands seemed to move of their own volition, wrapping up six cookies in a napkin. Her legs had a mind of their own too, pressing up from the seat and weaving around the partygoers. Hanna got as far as the empty stairwell before she opened the napkin and started pushing the cookies in her mouth one by one. She chewed and swallowed with desperation. Crumbs fell on her chest. Chocolate was all over her fingers and mouth. It was like there was something inside her that told her she could only stop when she finished each and every one—only then would she be filled.
This was exactly what had happened the first time she’d met Kate and Isabel in Annapolis: She’d felt so nervous and awkward that the only thing that soothed her was eating copious amounts of food. Kate and Ali, who Hanna had brought along, had gaped at her like she wasn’t human. And when Hanna had doubled over, her stomach aching, Mr. Marin had joked, Did little piggy eat too much?
It had been the first time Hanna had ever made herself throw up—and it wasn’t the last. Over the years she’d worked hard to stop, but sometimes old habits were hard to break.
A high-pitched giggle pealed from the hall, and Hanna shot up straight. It sounded like Ali. When she looked out the front window, she swore she saw someone moving around in the bushes.
Hanna peered into the darkness. Then, she felt eyes on her back and turned. Her father and Kate were staring at her from the kitchen.
Their eyes flicked from Hanna’s chocolate-smeared mouth to the crumbs on her chest to the cookies in her hands. Kate smirked. Mr. Marin’s brow furrowed. Eventually, he lifted his hand to his face and made a sweeping motion at his lips. Hanna brushed off a chocolate chip stuck to her cheek. Kate turned away and covered her mouth, suppressing a giggle.
The remaining cookies tumbled from her hand onto the floor. Face burning, Hanna fled upstairs and slammed her bedroom door, giving the middle finger to the loud hoots of the partygoers and the booming Bing Crosby Christmas carol on the stereo. She’d had just about enough Christmas partying for a lifetime.
Chapter 4
You’ll Never Work in This Mall Again
Tuesday after school, Hanna pushed through double doors that said WELCOME TO THE GRAND OPENING OF THE DEVON CREST MALL! on the glass. She entered a large atrium and breathed in. The air smelled like a mix of Auntie Anne’s pretzels, Starbucks coffee, and a mélange of perfumes. A large fountain burbled, and well-dressed girls carrying shopping bags from Tiffany & Co., Tory Burch, and Cole Haan pranced past. It was similar to the King James Mall, Hanna’s regular haunt, but just different enough so that it didn’t evoke a single memory of her many shopping trips there with Mona.
Just being surrounded by retail made Hanna feel better. She should have visited the mall earlier, but she hadn’t had the time. Yesterday, as part of the Twelve Days of Christmas extravaganza, she’d gone with her father, Isabel, and Kate to a performance of Handel’s Messiah in Villanova—snore. The day before that, they’d attended an eggnog-tasting at the local Williams-Sonoma, and to Hanna’s chagrin, she and Kate were only allowed to drink the nonalcoholic eggnog, which tasted like rancid nondairy creamer. They had plans to go to a department store in Philly to see some kind of lameass light display tonight, but the department store had been closed because it was infested with bedbugs. Huge loss.
Now, Hanna passed a seating area with a small café that sold 208 different kinds of tea, and a gluten-free bakery. She pulled out her phone to check once more if Lucas had called or texted, but there wasn’t a single email, voicemail, or tweet. He’d left two days ago and had already forgotten his promise to check in daily.
Whatever. She could trust Lucas. Right? Hanna thrust her chin into the air, trying to remain calm, and stopped to look at the mall directory. It had an Otter, her favorite boutique. She would drown her frustrations by buying the most amazing outfit ever.
“Hey, pretty girl.”
Hanna turned her head to look for the passing college guy who’d surely made the comment, but there wasn’t anyone there. Instead, she saw a Santa Land village replete with inflatable candy canes, a gingerbread house, and a bunch of bored-looking, college-aged elves in pointy shoes and hats. Santa Claus sat on a gilded throne, his hat askew.
“Nice smile, gorgeous,” the voice said again, and Hanna realized it was Santa. He beckoned her over with his white glove. “Want to sit on my lap?”
“Ew!” Hanna whispered, skittering away. She could hear him ho-ho-hoing all the way up the escalator.
Otter gleamed from down the corridor like a soothing fashion beacon. Hanna marched inside, bobbing to a loungey music mix. She lifted up a silk scarf and pressed it to her face. Then she inhaled the expensive scent of the buttery leather Kooba bags and ran her fingers over the denim jeggings and tie-waist Marc Jacobs chiffon dresses. Her heart rate slowed. She could practically feel her stress levels decreasing.
“Can I help you?” a voice chirruped. A petite blond salesgirl wearing a high-waist pencil skirt and the same polka-dotted silk blouse Hanna was ogling on the rack appeared next to her. “Are you looking for anything special?”
“I definitely need some new jeans.” Hanna patted a pair of skinny J Brands on the table. “And maybe this dress, and this.” She gestured to a cashmere sweater wrap by Alice + Olivia.
“Oh, that’s beautiful,” the salesgirl gushed. “You have great taste. Do you want me to pick some things out for you and start a room while you browse?”
“Sure,” Hanna said.
“Great.” The salesgirl looked Hanna up and down, then nodded. “Leave everything to me. I’m Lauren, by the way.”
“Hanna.” She grinned. This seemed like the start of a beautiful friendship. Maybe Lauren would put new stock aside for her to try on before other girls could get their grubby mitts on it, just like Sasha at the King James Otter did.
She did a lap of the store, selecting several more sweaters and dresses. Lauren chose other items she thought Hanna might like, including a stack of jeans, and whisked them to the back. When Hanna was ready to try things on, she noticed that Lauren had selected the biggest corner dressing room for her. Three other dressing rooms were occupied, but they were much smaller, as though those girls weren’t nearly as important.
Hanna pulled the curtain closed, smoothed down her hair, and looked at the gorgeous wares swinging from their hangers on the post. It was time to do some credit-card damage. But suddenly, her gaze froze on a tag on one of the pairs of denim leggings Lauren had chosen for her sitting on the paisley-patterned upholstered chair.
Size six.
She frowned and inspected the next pair in Lauren’s pile. This one was a six as well. She looked at the tags of the dresses Lauren had selected. Also sixes. There was nothing wrong with being a size six—for most girls—but Hanna hadn’t been a six since before her makeover with Mona in eighth grade.
“Uh, Lauren?” Hanna stuck her head out of the dressing room. Lauren appeared at the end of the hall, and Hanna gave her an apologetic smile. “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m a two.”
An uncomfortable look washed over Lauren’s face. “I really think you should try the six. J Brand leggings run a little small.”
Hanna bristled. “I have three pairs of J Brands already. I know exactly how their sizes run.”
Lauren’s lips pressed together. A long beat passed, and someone in one of the other dressing rooms sniffed. “Okay,” Lauren said after a moment, shrugging. “I’ll see if we have twos and fours in stock.”
The curtain slid closed again. As Lauren padded down the hall, Hanna swore she heard a slight snicker. Was Lauren laughing at her? The other girls in the adjacent dressing rooms had become very silent, almost like they were listening—and judging.
Lauren was back in seconds with the new jeans. Hanna grabbed them from her hands and yanked the curtain closed again. How dare that idiot salesgirl snicker at her! And how had she looked Hanna up and down and just assumed she was a six? Weren’t salesgirls supposed to have an accurate sense of what size a customer was? Didn’t they go through some kind of training? Hanna had never been treated so inconsiderately at the other Otter. As soon as Hanna left here, she was going to call up Otter’s corporate office to complain.
The denim of the size-two jeans felt soft around her bare ankles. Hanna stretched them over her calves, but when she pulled them up to her thighs, the cotton wouldn’t give. Hanna stared at herself in the mirror. This pair was obviously defective.
She wriggled out of the size two and tried on the next size up. She could get these over her butt, but there was no way they were going to button. What the hell was going on?
As a last resort, she tried on the six Lauren had selected for her. She fastened the button and gazed at herself in the mirror. Her legs looked puffy. There was the tiniest bit of fat gaping over the waistband. The seams stretched taut as though they were going to burst any second. Hanna’s heart started to pound. Could all of these jeans be defective?
Or had she gained weight?
Hanna thought about the cookies she’d eaten at the Christmas party. And the leftover party snacks she’d gorged on last night while watching TV in her room, hiding from her dad, Isabel, and Kate. And the pieces of fudge she’d grabbed from the open box on the island when she passed through the kitchen.
Her skin began to prickle. She felt one step away from backsliding into the chubby, ugly, dorky loser she’d been before Ali had befriended her in sixth grade. She peeked at her reflection in the mirror again, and for a split second, she saw a girl with poop-brown hair, pink rubber bands on her braces, and pimples on her forehead. It was the old Hanna, the girl she swore she would never, ever be again.
“No,” Hanna said in a gurgling whisper, covering her eyes with her hands and sinking to the chair.
“Hanna?” Lauren’s platform heels appeared under the door. “Is everything okay?”
Hanna eked out a yes, but everything was very, very far from okay. All of a sudden, it felt like everything in her life was spiraling out of control. And she had to do something about it—fast.
Chapter 5
Down from Mount Olympus
The next morning Hanna cycled around and around the elliptical trainer at Body Tonic, the upscale gym she’d been attending since the end of eighth grade. Each machine had a built-in TV with a zillion cable channels, a juice bar and spa stood next to the check-in desk, and the locker rooms boasted a eucalyptus steam room, a whirlpool bath, and Kiehl’s products in all of the showers. All around her, fit men, women, and the occasional student from one of the many elite private schools in the area jogged on treadmills, pedaled on recumbent bikes, or did slightly vulgar-looking squats on exercise balls. A yoga class was taking place in the exercise room at the back, and at that very moment, the class was attempting the half-moon pose, their bodies making T shapes, their legs wobbling.
