Wanted. (Book Eight)

Fourteen: Revenge Is The New Black.

At exactly 5:38 P.M. the following night, Hanna, Courtney, Kate, Naomi, and Riley emerged from the subway in front of the New York Public Library steps. A bunch of teenage tourists in platform sneakers were taking pictures of one another in front of the lion statues.

"This way," Hanna said authoritatively, turning left toward Bryant Park. Tents fluttered over the trees, reminding Hanna of white-capped waves. She wore a silk charmeuse DVF dress with an abstract floral print and a slimming waist tie. It wasn't technically in store yet—when Sasha at Otter heard that Hanna was going to the show, she dug out her only sample and let Hanna borrow it. She was also wearing a pair of royal purple DVF platforms she bought in the fall, and she'd broken down and purchased the designer's metal-beaded slouch bag even though she was pretty sure it had maxed out her credit card.

None of the others looked nearly as good—Naomi and Kate were wearing DVF dresses from last season, and Riley's slightly pilled wrap dress was from two seasons ago—horrors. Courtney wasn't wearing anything by the designer, opting instead for a simple Marc Jacob's wool dress and brown ankle boots. She carried herself so confidently, though, that Hanna wondered if it was actually the chicer decision. What if it was gauche to wear a designer's clothes to her fashion show, like the out-of-town dorks who wore I Heart NY T-shirts?

Hanna brushed the thought away. The day had been fantastic so far. Hanna had sat with the others at lunch, chatting excitedly about which celebrities they might see at the show—Madonna? Taylor Momsen? Natalie Portman? Then, they'd boarded the Amtrak Acela at Thirtieth Street Station and spent the hour-long train ride to New York City taking swigs of champagne from a bottle Naomi had stolen from her dad, giggling every time the rain-thin, stick-up-her-butt business lady sitting next to them gave them dirty looks. Okay, so they didn't realize they were sitting in the train's Quiet Car, which had stricter rules than the Rosewood Day library. But that only made it funnier.

Naomi poked Courtney's shoulder as they strode down Fortieth Street. "We should go to that restaurant you read about in Daily Candy, don't you think?"

"Definitely," Courtney said, ducking around a pungent-smelling hot dog cart. "But only if Hanna wants to." She shot Hanna a covert smile. Ever since they'd shared that weird moment about Iris, Courtney had had Hanna's back.

They turned into the park. The place was mobbed with fashion people, watch skinnier, prettier, and more glamorous than the last. In front of a big sign for Mercedes-Benz, E! was interviewing a woman who'd been a guest judge on Project Runway. A film crew was positioned right at the entrance of the DVF show, shooting every invitee who paraded into the tent.

Naomi grabbed Riley's arm. "Oh my God, we're going to be totally famous."

"Maybe we'll be in Teen Vogue!" Kate gushed. "Or Page Six!"

Hanna was smiling so broadly that her cheeks hurt. She waltzed up to the coordinator manning the door, an angular black man wearing pink lipstick. Cameras swiveled and focused on her face. That was what famous actresses did when confronted with the paparazzi.

"Hi, our reservations are under Marin," Hanna said in a cool, professional voice, whipping out the five tickets she'd carefully printed out on heavy-stock paper last night. She shot Naomi and the others an excited smile, and they grinned back graciously.

The coordinator studied the invites and smirked. "Aw, how sweet. Someone knows how to use Photoshop!"

Hanna blinked. "Huh?"

He handed the invites back. "Honey, to get into this tent, you need a black key with the DVF logo on the front. One hundred people received them a month ago. These flimsy things won't get you squat."