Twenty-Six: A Reinvention Of The Past.

1 0 0
                                    

The DiLaurentises' Poconos house was exactly as Hanna remembered it: large and rambling, with red-painted teak siding and white shutters and windows. The porch light was off, but the moon was so big and bright that Hanna could see five rockers on the porch. She, Ali, and the others used to sit on those rockers, Us Weekly magazines in their laps, watching the sunset over the lake.

The car crunched into the driveway and rolled to a stop. Everyone leaped up and grabbed their purses. The night air was cold. A mist hung over the valley, as fine and vaporous as breath.

There was a rustle in the bushes. Hanna halted. A long tail flickered. Two eyes glowed yellow. A black car scampered stealthily across the driveway and into the woods. She breathed out.

Ali unlocked the door to the house and ushered them in. The place smelled like aged wallpaper glue, dusty wood floors, and closed-up rooms. There was also a faint odor that reminded Hanna of an old hamburger.

"Drinks?" Ali cried, dropping the keys on the farmhouse table.

"Definitely," Spencer said. She unloaded a grocery bag of Cheez-Its, blue corn tortilla chips, M&M's, Diet Coke, Red Bull, and a bottle of vodka. Hanna went to the cupboard where the DiLaurentises kept their glasses and pulled out five crystal tumblers.

After making vodka and Red Bulls, everyone strolled into the den. Built-in bookshelves lined the walls. The closet was slightly open, revealing stacks and stacks of old board games. The television that had only four channels still sat on the old hutch. Hanna stared out at the big backyard, immediately locating the spot where they'd built the five-girl tent and slept under the stars, Ali had presented them with their Jenna bracelets in that tent, making them promise that they'd remain best friends until the day they died.

Hanna wandered over to the mantel, noticing a familiar silver-framed photo. It was the picture of the five of them standing next to a big canoe, all of them soaking wet. The same photo used to hang in the DiLaurentises' old foyer. It had been taken the first time Ali invited them to the Poconos, not long after they became friends. Hanna and the others had made up a secret ritual of touching the bottom corner of the photo at the same time, though they'd been too embarrassed to tell Ali about it.

Everyone else gathered around the photo, too. The ice in their glasses rattled. "Remember that day?" Emily murmured. Her breath already smelled like vodka. "That crazy waterfall?"

Hanna snorted. "Yeah. You freaked." It was their maiden voyage on a new canoe Mr. DiLaurentis had bought from the local sporting goods store. They'd all paddled furiously to start off, but then everyone got tired and bored and let the current carry them. When the river began to get rough, Spencer wanted to try and tide the rapids. Then Emily saw the little waterfall ahead and demanded they abandon ship.

Spencer nudged Emily's ribs. "You were like, 'People die if they go over waterfalls in a canine! We should tip it and swim to shore!'"

"And then you tipped us all without telling us first," Aria said, shaking with giggles. "That water was so cold!"

"I was shivering for days," Emily agreed.

"We look so young," Hanna murmured, focusing especially on her own pudgy face. "Just think, a couple of weeks before that, we were sneaking into your yard trying to steal your flag, Ali."

"Yeah," Ali said distractedly. Hanna watched her, waiting for Ali to chime in with a memory, but Ali simply began to pull out the bobby pins from her French twist, setting each one on the glass end table. Maybe it was wrong to bring up the Time Capsule day. Courtney had apparently been home that weekend, switching from the Radley to the Preserve. It probably stirred up all kinds of bad memories.

Hanna looked at the photo again. Things had been so different then. When they'd tipped the canoe, Hanna's drenched, oversize T-shirt clung to every roll of skin and ounce of fat. Not long after, Ali began to make remarks about how Hanna ate so much more than the rest of them, and that Hanna didn't play a sport, and that Hanna always went for seconds at lunch. Once, at the King James Mall, she'd even quipped that they should go into Faith 21—Forever 21's plus-size store—just to "look around."

Suddenly, Naomi's words flashed through Hanna's mind. Everyone said Ali picked you as a joke. You were such a loser.

Hanna slumped against the sideboard, nearly knocking over a decorative plate adorned with a print of Independence Mall. Her mouth felt sticky with vodka, and her limbs hung loose and free.

Ali turned and lobbed something white and fluffy at each of the girls. "Hot tub time!" She clapped her hands. "Make yourselves fresh cocktails and get changed while I go outside and turn it on."

Grabbing her drink, Ali skipped through the living room and out to the back porch, her blond ponytail bobbing. Hanna stared at the objects Ali had thrown at her—a fluffy white Frette towel and a polka-dotted Marc Jacobs string bikini. She held the bikini top and bottom up to the light, admiring the shiny fabric and silvery ties.

Hanna straightened up, suddenly refortified. Nice try, bitches. The tag inside the butt read size zero. Hanna smiled to herself, flattered and stunned. It was the best compliment anyone could have given her.

Wanted. (Book Eight)Where stories live. Discover now