Hanna slumped in her seat. It seemed like all the overhead lights in the cafeteria had dimmed except for the one directly over their table. A couple of girls at nearby tables turned and stared. “You guys pretend you’re models?” she asked weakly.
Ruby took a swig of Coke. “Not really. Mostly we just put together outfits from our closets and strut down the hall like it’s a runway. Tara has awesome clothes. And she’s got a Burberry bag!”
Tara dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “It’s fake,” she confessed. “My mom got it for me in Chinatown in New York. But it totally looks like the real thing.”
Hanna felt her will to live slowly drain out the soles of her feet. She eyed two chatting nurses near the dessert tray and wished she could hit them up for a double dose of Valium right then. “I’m sure it does,” she lied.
Suddenly, a blond girl watching them by the soup tureens caught Hanna’s eye. She had corn-silk blond hair, pale, gorgeous skin, and an alluring, indefinable presence about her. A shiver snaked through Hanna’s body. Ali?
She did a double take and realized this girl’s face was rounder, her eyes were green, not blue, and all her features were a little pointy. Hanna slowly let out a breath.
But the girl was now making a beeline for Hanna, Tara, Alexis, and Ruby, winding quickly around the tables. She had the exact same smirk on her face that Ali used to get when she was about to tease someone. Hanna gazed despondently at her dinner companions. Then she ran her hands along her thighs, stiffening with alarm. Did her legs feel chunkier than usual? And why did her hair feel so brittle and frizzy? Her heart began to pound. What if, just by sitting here with these dorks, Hanna had instantly reverted to her lame, loserish, pre-Ali self? What if she’d sprouted a double chin and back fat, and what if her teeth had gone instantly crooked? Nervous, Hanna reached for a piece of bread from the basket in the middle of the table. Just as she was about to shove the whole thing into her mouth, she recoiled in horror. What was she doing? Fabulous Hanna never ate bread.
Tara noticed the girl walking toward them and nudged Ruby. Alexis sat up straighter. Everyone held their breath as the girl approached the table. When she touched Hanna’s arm, Hanna bristled, bracing for the worst. She’d probably morphed into a hideous troll by now.
“Are you Hanna?” the girl said in a clear, mellifluous voice.
Hanna tried to speak, but her words got caught in her throat. She made a sound that was a cross between a hiccup and a burp. “Yeah,” she finally managed, her cheeks flaming.
The girl stuck out her hand. Her long nails were painted Chanel black. “I’m Iris,” she said. “Your roommate.”
“H-hi,” Hanna said cautiously, staring into Iris’s pale green, almond-shaped eyes.
Iris stepped away, looking Hanna up and down appraisingly. Then she offered her hand. “Come with me,” she said airily. “We don’t hang out with losers.”
Everyone at the table let out an outraged gasp. Alexis’s face was as long as a horse’s. Ruby pulled nervously at her hair. Tara shook her head vehemently, as if Hanna was about to eat something poisonous. She mouthed the word bitch.
But Iris smelled like lilacs, not Vick’s VapoRub. She was wearing the same long Joie cashmere cardigan Hanna had bought two weeks ago at Otter, and she didn’t have bald patches on her scalp. Long ago, Hanna vowed to never be a dork again. Those rules even applied inside a mental hospital.
Shrugging, she stood up and plucked her purse from the ground. “Sorry, ladies,” she said sweetly, blowing them a kiss. And then she looped her arm around Iris’s waiting elbow and walked away, not once looking back.
As they strutted through the cafeteria, Iris leaned down to Hanna’s ear. “You totally lucked out by getting a room with me instead of with some of the other freaks. I’m the only normal one here.”
“Thank God,” Hanna said under her breath, rolling her eyes.
Iris stopped and gave Hanna a long, hard look. A smile washed over her face, one that seemed to say, Yeah, you’re cool. And Hanna realized that Iris might be cool too. More than cool. The two of them exchanged a smug, knowing look that only pretty, popular girls understood.
Iris twisted a long strand of pale blond hair around her finger. “So, mud masks after dinner? I’m assuming you know about the spa.”
“Done.” Hanna nodded. Hope swelled in her chest. Maybe this place wouldn’t be so bad after all.
Chapter 13
Someone’s not as Typical as You Think
Wednesday afternoon, Aria sat at the kitchen table at Byron and Meredith’s new house, staring gloomily into a bag of organic honey-wheat pretzels. The house had been built in the 1950s, with ornate crown molding, a three-tier deck, and beautiful French doors leading from room to room. Unfortunately, the kitchen was small and cramped, and the appliances hadn’t been updated since the Cold War era. To make up for its old-fashionedness, Meredith had stripped the plaid wallpaper and painted the walls neon green. Like that would be soothing for the baby.
Mike sat next to Aria, grumbling that the only beverage in the house was nonfat Rice Dream soy milk. Byron had invited Mike over after school so he could get to know Meredith better, although the only thing Mike had said to Meredith so far was that her boobs had really grown since she’d gotten knocked up. She’d smiled tightly then clomped upstairs to prepare the baby’s nursery.
Mike turned the little kitchen TV to the news. Public Calls for Pretty Little Liars to Take Polygraphs said a block-letter headline on the screen. Aria gasped and leaned forward.