Kate fingered her chestnut ponytail. “Because Naomi and Riley registered first. The race isn’t big enough for all of us.”
Hanna poured more water into cups, just to do something with her hands. “So you guys are still fighting?”
“Yeah.” Kate clapped loudly for the passing runners. “The fight’s just with Naomi. Not Riley.”
Hanna gave Kate a strange look, hoping she’d elaborate. Was the fight still over her? Was Kate pro-Hanna, or anti-Hanna? But then Kate’s phone rang, and she took refuge under the awning of the coffee shop behind them to answer the call. Hanna watched more people stream past. There were kids from Hollis College, their T-shirts plastered to their chests. There were gung-ho über-runner types in racing singlets and track shoes. Suddenly, two familiar figures appeared around the bend. Mike’s blue-black hair was matted against his head, and he wore a white long-sleeved T-shirt, baggy black running shorts, and neon-yellow Nikes. His right hand was firmly entwined with Colleen’s. They were wearing matching outfits—only Colleen’s white tee was now see-through from the rain. It hurt to see that the Mike-and-Hanna hobby was now a Mike-and-Colleen hobby.
Hanna tried to duck behind the water table, but then Colleen spied her and broke into a huge smile. Shit. They trotted over, breathing hard. “Omigod, Hanna, it’s so sweet that you’re handing out water!” Colleen gushed, accepting a cup, gulping it down, and grabbing another. “Thank you!”
“Drink the whole gallon, why don’t you!” Hanna said under her breath, wanting to stuff the paper cup down her throat. Then she turned to Mike and offered him a cup of water, too. “Having a good time?” she said in the sweetest voice she could muster, as if there were no hard feelings.
“Yeah.” Mike downed the water, then selected a banana from the tray. “This race rocks. I’m loving seeing so many girls’ butts in wet spandex.”
“Mike,” Colleen scolded, her eyebrows furrowing. Mike hung his head in apology, and Colleen rolled her eyes before jogging to a nearby trash can to toss in her empty water cup. Hanna raised an eyebrow. Colleen didn’t put up with Mike’s sex jokes? How did they even have a conversation?
Mike looked at Hanna with curiosity. “I’m surprised you’re not running this year.”
Hanna shrugged. “Nope, dad-duty calls.” She showed him the VOTE FOR TOM MARIN button she’d pinned on her jacket. “I remember last year, though. After we finished, we dove into the bushes and made out, still wearing our medals.”
Mike’s lips twitched. “Uh, yeah . . .”
Hanna checked on Colleen. She was talking to one of the other Tom Marin volunteers by the trash can. “And then there was the 10k on the Marwyn Trail this summer, where it was so hot we went skinny-dipping in that pond halfway through. Remember how that old lady almost caught us?”
Mike’s cheeks got redder. “Hanna, I’m not sure—”
“We should have done it that day, don’t you think?” Hanna interrupted.
Mike’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He might have been uncomfortable, but he definitely didn’t look disgusted. Maybe he did want to have sex with her, after all.
Hanna wiped a droplet of water off Mike’s cheek. “You know, my dad’s having a campaign party tomorrow night,” she murmured into his ear. “You should come.”
Mike’s lips parted again. There was an intrigued sparkle in his eyes, and Hanna could tell he was considering saying yes. Then a hand gripped his arm. “Hey, my two favorite people! What are we talking about?” Colleen asked.
Mike blinked hard, then stood up straighter. “Mr. Marin’s campaign party,” he mumbled.
Colleen’s eyes lit up. “Omigod! Mike and I are so excited for that!”
Hanna glared at Mike, but he was pointedly avoiding her gaze. “Colleen got a really pretty dress,” he muttered.
“Yes,” Colleen swooned. “It was from the bebe store at the King James. Do you know that place, Hanna?”
Hanna snorted. “Yeah. Only sluts shop there.”
Colleen’s face crumpled. Mike’s eyebrows shot up, and then he grabbed his girlfriend’s hand and pulled her into the crowd of runners. “That wasn’t very nice,” he said over his shoulder. And then he was gone.
What. The. Hell? As Hanna contemplated throwing cut-up bananas at the backs of their heads, a taunting giggle lilted through the air, and the hair on the back of her neck rose.
Ping. She glanced down at her phone, which was tucked in her jacket pocket. One new text. Disturbingly, it was from a jumble of nonsensical letters and numbers.
Think Colleen is as innocent as she seems? Think again. Everyone has secrets . . . even her. —A
Hanna stared at the text for a long time. What the hell was A talking about?
“Hanna! There you are!”
Her dad stood behind her, clutching an enormous striped golf umbrella. Standing next to him was a tall, slender woman dressed in a rain hat, North Face top, straight-leg jeans, and furry boots. A Louis Vuitton bag was slung casually over her arm, a cell phone was in her hand, and she was looking at Hanna with a smirking expression. Hanna’s stomach dropped to her feet for the second time in under a minute when she realized who it was.
Gayle.
“Oh.” It came out like a croak. “H-hi.” Hanna eyed the cell phone in Gayle’s hand. The screen was lit up, as if the phone had just been used. Had she sent Hanna that text?