“Oh my God, I would love to go to the Teen Choice Awards!” Hanna breathed.
Ali’s head was spinning. Los Angeles? Ninth-grade dance? Teen Choice Awards? She leaned on the back bumper of someone’s VW Beetle. “And you know Hanna how?”
Hanna brightened. “I met her yesterday at Otter.”
“What’s that?” Ali asked. “A pet store?”
Small, almost pitying smiles appeared on both Hanna’s and Josie’s faces. “Otter is the new boutique at the mall,” Josie said. “My dad owns it. I’m working there after school a few days a week.”
“It’s the best store, Ali,” Hanna gushed. “People from the Sentinel’s style section were even there when I went in. They said they might do a write-up!”
“We’re having an opening-week sale—you should stop by,” Josie said, stepping out of the way as a battered Volvo gunned its way up the lot. Then she nudged Hanna. “Remember that fight those girls got into over that pair of Citizens jeans?”
Hanna looked at Ali. “You would have loved it. These two girls spotted a pair of skinnies they both wanted at the same time and got into a fight in the dressing area.”
“That’s how amazing the jeans were,” Josie added.
Ali cleared her throat. “And how did you find out about this store, Hanna?”
“I read about it online.” Hanna suddenly looked panicked. “I thought you knew about it, Ali. I would have said something.”
“Since when do you go to the King James alone?” Ali said in a voice that might sound to anyone else like teasing but she knew would put Hanna on edge. “I thought we always texted each other if we were going.” She didn’t bother to bring up that she had been at the King James yesterday, too. But that didn’t count—she’d been with her parents.
“She wasn’t there for very long,” Josie said cautiously, giving Ali a strange look.
“It’s a personal, best-friends thing,” Ali said tightly. Then she looked at Hanna again. This whole situation was wrong. Since when was Hanna receiving invites to boutique openings and not telling her about them? And since when was a pretty, older girl from Los Angeles choosing Hanna as her newest bestie? Okay, so Hanna was wearing a pretty silk blouse Ali had never seen before, and she always knew what to do with jewelry—today she had a bunch of silver bangles on her left arm. But she also had pink and purple rubber bands in her braces. There was a pimple on her forehead and another one forming on her chin. Her Rosewood Day blazer, which had fit at the beginning of this year, pulled at the chest and didn’t quite button at the waist. She’d still be a dork if Ali hadn’t scooped her up and given her a popular-girl home. More than that, she was Ali’s dork, and Ali didn’t want to share her.
Ali sniffed the air. “Um, Hanna?” She glanced down at Hanna’s banana-yellow Marc Jacobs wedges. “I think you have dog poop on your shoe.”
Hanna paled. “Oh my God.” She scuttled over to the curb and furiously scraped her heel against the concrete.
Ali gave Josie an apologetic look. “We just can’t take Hanna anywhere. One time, when we were in Philly together, she literally fell off the curb into a mud puddle!”
Josie’s lips twitched, but she didn’t laugh. She pulled her bag up her shoulder. “Actually, I should probably go. I still don’t really know my way around this place yet.”
“You’re leaving?” Hanna asked, returning from the curb.
“We’ll talk soon, okay?” Josie practically fled from them, her ponytail bouncing as she ran down the hill. When she got to the door, a few pretty girls said hello to her, and she smiled back.
Hanna slumped miserably. Ali threaded her arm through her elbow. “I’m sorry, Han. People can get pretty grossed out by dog poop, though.”
Hanna pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. “There actually wasn’t any dog poop on my shoe. I checked.”
“Really?” Ali asked innocently. She grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard. “I swore I smelled something, Han! My bad!”
Hanna’s brow furrowed, perhaps sensing what Ali was up to. Hanna was smarter than Ali sometimes gave her credit for—she picked up on manipulative behavior much faster than the others did. If Ali ever stepped aside—not that that would ever happen—and if Hanna made herself over, she’d probably make a decent queen bee herself.
But Hanna said nothing. Ali clutched her arm once more. “Besides, I’ve heard that everyone from California is a major flake. You don’t want to be friends with her, anyway.”
She had Ali, after all, and Ali was all that mattered.
5
THOSE SUMMER ROMANCES ARE ALWAYS THE BEST . . .
“Bring it in, ladies!” Ali’s field hockey coach, Mrs. Schultz, called as the two scrimmaging teams jogged in front of the field. Even though the season was long over, Mrs. Schultz liked to get the girls together to practice every once in a while to stay in shape for next year. Ali tramped toward the bleachers. The scent of fresh-cut grass tickled her nostrils, and as she got closer, she saw that Mrs. Schultz was setting out a big jug of fruit punch–flavored Gatorade, her favorite.
“You girls play great defense,” Mrs. Schultz said when Ali and Cassie reached the stands. “You’re going to be a force to be reckoned with next fall.”
Cassie nudged Ali. “You’re going to be an MVP even before you’re a freshman.”
“That’s because I’m awesome!” Ali chirped, forming her arms into a V. But deep down, she couldn’t even believe she’d made the team. She’d barely walked the grounds at the Radley, much less ran field hockey drills, but as soon as she heard that the high school team was opening up JV tryouts to two outstanding junior high players—Ali and Spencer—she’d made it her goal to make the cut. When her family later visited the hospital and “Courtney” found out that Ali had made the high school team, “Courtney’s” face had paled. Who’s the better Alison now? Ali had wanted to yell at her.