“Holy shit.” Mona giggled, her chest heaving. “That was awesome.”
Spencer’s heart continued to rocket in her chest. Both of the guys were still staring, slack-jawed. “Do you think anyone else saw?” she whispered.
“Who the hell cares? Like they’d really kick us out of here.”
Spencer’s cheeks warmed, flattered that Mona considered her as traffic-stopping as she was. “Now I’m really late,” she murmured. “But it was worth it.”
“Of course it was.” Mona blew her a kiss. “Promise me we’ll do this again?”
Spencer nodded and blew her a kiss back, then breezed through the main dining room. She felt better than she had in days. With Mona’s help, she’d managed to forget about A, the Golden Orchid, and Melissa for three whole minutes.
But as she walked through the parking lot, she felt a hand on her arm. “Wait.”
When Spencer turned around, she found Mona nervously spinning her diamond necklace around her neck. Her expression had morphed from one of gleeful naughtiness to something much more guarded and uncertain.
“I know you’re super-late,” Mona blurted out, “and I don’t want to bother you, but something’s happening to me, and I really need to talk to someone about it. I know we don’t know each other well, but I can’t talk to Hanna—she’s got enough problems. And everyone else would spread it around the school.”
Spencer perched on the edge of a large ceramic planter, concerned. “What is it?”
Mona looked around cautiously, as if to make sure there were no Ralph Lauren–clad golfers nearby. “I’ve been getting these…text messages,” she whispered.
Spencer lost hearing for a moment. “What did you say?”
“Text messages,” Mona repeated. “I’ve only gotten two, but they’re not really signed, so I don’t know who they’re from. They say these…these horrible things about me.” Mona bit her lip. “I’m kind of scared.”
A sparrow fluttered past and landed on a barren crab apple tree. A lawn mower rumbled to life in the distance. Spencer gaped at Mona. “Are they from…A?” she whispered.
Mona went so pale, even her freckles vanished. “H-how did you know that?”
“Because.” Spencer breathed in. This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening. “Hanna and I—and Aria and Emily—we’ve all been getting them too.”
17
CATS CAN FIGHT NICE, CAN’T THEY?
Wednesday afternoon, just as Hanna flopped over in her hospital bed—apparently, lying too still caused bedsores, which sounded even nastier than acne—she heard a knock at her door. She almost didn’t want to answer it. She was a little sick of all her nosy visitors, especially Spencer, Aria, and Emily.
“Let’s get ready to par-tay!” someone yelled. Four boys swept inside: Noel Kahn; Mason Byers; Aria’s younger brother, Mike; and, surprise of all surprises, Sean Ackard, Hanna’s—and Aria’s, it seemed—ex-boyfriend.
“Hey, boys.” Hanna lifted the oatmeal-colored cashmere blanket Mona had brought her from home over the bottom half of her face, revealing only her eyes. Seconds later, Lucas Beattie arrived, carrying a big bouquet of flowers.
Noel glanced at Lucas, then rolled his eyes. “Over-compensating for something?”
“Huh?” Lucas’s face was nearly swallowed up by the bouquet.
Hanna didn’t get why Lucas was always visiting her. Sure, they’d been friends for like a minute last week, when Lucas took her up in his dad’s hot-air balloon and let her vent about all of her troubles. Hanna knew how much he liked her—he’d pretty much reached in, pulled out his heart, and handed it to her during their balloon ride together, but after she’d received Mona’s court dress in the mail, Hanna clearly remembered sending Lucas a nasty text confirming that she was out of his league. She considered reminding him of that now, only…Lucas had been pretty useful. He’d gone to Sephora to buy Hanna a whole bunch of new makeup, read Teen Vogue to her line by line, and cajoled the doctors into allowing him to douse the room with Bliss aromatherapy oil, just as Hanna had asked him to. She kind of liked having him around. If she weren’t so popular and fabulous, he’d probably make a great boyfriend. He was definitely cute enough—way cuter than Sean, even.
Hanna glanced at Sean now. He was sitting stiffly in a plastic visitor’s chair, peeking at Hanna’s various get-well cards. Visiting Hanna in the hospital was so him. She wanted to ask him why he and Aria had broken up, but all of a sudden, she realized that she didn’t care.
Noel looked at Hanna curiously. “What’s with the veil?”
“The doctors told me to do this.” Hanna pulled the blanket tight around her nose. “To, like, keep away germs. And besides, you get to focus on my beautiful eyes.”
“So, what was it like being in a coma?” Noel perched on the side of Hanna’s bed, squeezing a stuffed turtle that her aunt and uncle had given her yesterday. “Was it, like, a really long acid trip?”
“And are they giving you medicinal marijuana now?” Mike asked hopefully, his blue eyes glinting. “I bet the hospital stash rocks.”
“Nah, I bet they’re giving her painkillers.” Mason’s parents were doctors, so he always busted out his medical knowledge. “Hospital patients have such a sweet setup.”
“Are the nurses hot?” Mike burbled. “Do they strip for you?”
“Are you nak*d under there?” Noel asked. “Give us a peek!”
“Guys!” Lucas said in a horrified voice. The boys looked at him and rolled their eyes—except for Sean, who looked almost as uncomfortable as Lucas did. Sean was probably still in Virginity Club, Hanna thought with a smirk.
“It’s fine,” Hanna chirped. “I can handle it.” It was actually refreshing to have the boys here, making inappropriate comments. Everyone else who visited had been so damn serious. As the boys gathered around to sign Hanna’s cast, Hanna remembered something and sat up. “You guys are coming to my welcome-back party on Friday, right? Spencer and Mona are planning it, so I’m sure it’s going to rock.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Noel glanced at Mason and Mike, who were looking out the window, chatting about what limbs they’d break if they jumped from Hanna’s fifth-floor balcony. “What’s up with you and Mona, anyway?” Noel asked.
“Nothing.” Hanna flinched. “Why?”
Noel capped the pen. “You guys had quite a catfight at her party. Rrow!”
“We did?” Hanna asked blankly. Lucas coughed uncomfortably.
“Noel, it was so not rrow!” Mona breezed into the room. She blew air-kisses at Noel, Mason, and Mike, shot a frosty smile at Sean, and dropped an enormous binder at the bottom of Hanna’s bed. She ignored Lucas completely. “It was just a little BFF bitchiness.”
Noel shrugged. He joined the other boys at the window and proceeded to get into a noogie fight with Mason.
Mona rolled her eyes. “So listen, Han, I was just talking to Spencer, and we made a must-have party list. I want to run the details by you.” She opened her Tiffany-blue binder. “You, of course, have the final say before I talk to the venue.” She licked her finger and turned a page. “Okay. Bisque or ivory napkins?”
Hanna tried to focus, but Noel’s words were still fresh in Hanna’s mind. Rrow? “What were we fighting about?” Hanna blurted out.
Mona paused, lowering her list to her lap. “Seriously, Han, nothing. You remember we were fighting the week before? About the skywriter? Naomi and Riley?”
Hanna nodded. Mona had asked Naomi Zeigler and Riley Wolfe, their biggest rivals, to be part of her Sweet Seventeen party court. Hanna suspected it was in retaliation to Hanna blowing off their Frenniversary celebration.
“Well, you were totally right,” Mona went on. “Those two are enormous bitches. I don’t want us to hang out with them anymore. I’m sorry I let them in the inner circle for a little bit, Han.”
“It’s okay,” Hanna said in a small voice, feeling a tiny lift.
“So, anyway.” Mona pulled out two magazine cutouts. One was a longish, white, pleated bubble dress with a silk rosette on the back, and the other was a wild-print dress that hit high on the thigh. “Phillip Lim gathered gown or flirty Nieves Lavi minidress?”
“Nieves Lavi,” Hanna answered. “It’s boatneck and short, so it’ll show lots of leg but detract from my collarbone and face.” She pulled the sheet up to her eyes again.
“Speaking of that,” Mona chirped, “look what I got for you!”
She reached into her butter-colored Cynthia Rowley tote and pulled out a delicate porcelain mask. It was in the shape of a pretty girl’s face, with prominent cheekbones, pretty, pouty lips, and a nose that would definitely be on a plastic surgeon’s most-requested list. It was so beautiful and intricate, it looked almost real.
“These exact masks were used in last year’s Dior haute couture show,” Mona breathed. “My mom knows someone at Dior’s PR company in New York, and we had someone drive it down from New York City this morning.”
“Oh my God.” Hanna reached out and touched the edge of the mask. It felt like a mix between baby-soft skin and satin.
Mona held the mask up to Hanna’s face, which was still half-covered by the blanket. “It will cover all your bruises. You’ll be the most gorgeous girl at your party.”
“Hanna’s already gorgeous,” Lucas piped up, whirling around from all the medical machines. “Even without a mask.”
Mona’s nose wrinkled as if Lucas had just told her he was going to take her temperature in her butt. “Oh, Lucas,” she said frostily. “I didn’t see you standing there.”
“I’ve been here the whole time,” Lucas pointed out tersely.
The two of them glowered at each other. Hanna noticed something almost apprehensive about Mona’s expression. But in a blink, it was gone.
Mona placed Hanna’s mask against her vase of flowers, positioning it so that it was staring at her. “This is going to be the party of the year, Han. I can’t wait.”
With that, Mona blew her a kiss and danced out of the room. Noel, Mason, Sean, and Mike followed, telling Hanna they’d be back tomorrow and she’d better share some of her medicinal marijuana with them. Only Lucas remained, leaning against the far wall next to a soothing Monet-esque poster of a field of dandelions. There was a disturbed expression on his face.
“So that cop, Wilden? He asked me some questions about the hit-and-run while we were waiting for you to wake up from your coma a couple days ago,” Lucas said quietly, sitting down on the orange chair next to Hanna’s bed. “Like, if I’d seen you the night it happened. If you were acting weird or worried. It kind of sounded like he thought the hit-and-run wasn’t an accident.”