Perfect (Book Two)

Thirty-One: Like Hanna Would Steal An Airplane-She Doesn't Even Know How To Fly!

Hanna pushed her way through crowds of kids, hoping to see Emily's familiar reddish-blond hair. She found Spencer and Aria by the oversize windows, talking to Gemma Curran, one of Emily's swimming teammates.

"She was here with that guy from Tate, right?" Gemma pursed her lips and tried to think. "I'm pretty sure I saw them leave."

Hanna exchanged glances with her friends. "What are we going to do?" Spencer whispered. "It's not like we have any idea where they're going."

"I tried calling her," Aria said. "But her phone just kept ringing."

"Oh my God," Spencer said, her eyes filling up with tears.

"Well, what did you expect?" Aria said through her teeth. "You're the one who let this happen." Hanna couldn't remember Aria ever being this angry.

"I know," Spencer repeated. "I'm sorry."

A huge boom interrupted them. Everyone looked outside to see the trees blowing sideways and rain coming down in sheets. "Shit," Hanna heard a girl say next to her. "My dress is going to be ruined."

Hanna faced her friends. "I know someone who can help us. A cop." She looked around, half-expecting Officer Wilden, the guy who'd arrested Hanna for stealing a Tiffany bracelet and Mr. Ackard's car and who'd gotten it on with her mom—to be at Foxy tonight. But the guys guarding the exits and the jewelry auction were the Foxhunting League's private security team—only if something devastating happened would they call in the cops. Last year, a Rosewood Day senior drank too much and ran off with a David Yurman bracelet that was up for auction, and even they'd only left a tactful message on the boy's family's voice mail, saying that they'd like it back by the next day.

"We can't go to the cops," Spencer hissed. "The way the one cop was acting with me this morning, I wouldn't be surprised if they thought we killed Ali."

Hanna stared up at the giant crystal chandelier on the ceiling. A couple kids were tossing their napkins at it, trying to get the crystals to swing. "But I mean, your note pretty much says, I'm gonna hurt you, right? Isn't that enough?"

"It's signed A. And it said that we hurt him. How would we explain that?"

"But how do we make sure she's all right?" Aria asked, pulling up her polka-dotted dress. Hanna noted bitterly that the side zipper was still partially down.

"Maybe we should drive by her house," Spencer suggested.

"Sean and I could go right now," Aria volunteered.

Hanna's jaw dropped. "You're telling Sean about this?"

"No," Aria shouted, over the swells of Natasha Bedingfield and the pounding rain. Hanna could even see it fogging up the hall's skylight, thirty feet above their heads. "I won't tell him anything. Or I don't know how I'll explain it. But he won't know."

"So are you and Sean going to any after-parties?" Hanna pried.

Aria looked at her crazily. "You think I'd go to an after-party after all this?"

"Yeah, but if this hadn't happened, would you have gone?"

"Hanna." Spencer put her cool, thin hand on Hanna's shoulder. "Let it go."

Hanna gritted her teeth, grabbed a glass of champagne from a waitress's tray, and belted it down. She couldn't let it go. It wasn't possible.

"You check out Emily's house," Spencer said to Aria. "I'll keep calling her."

"What if we drive by Emily's and Toby is with her?" Aria asked. "Do we confront him? I mean...if he is A...?"

Hanna exchanged an uneasy glance with the others. She wanted to kick Toby's ass—how had he found out about Kate? Her father? Her arrests? How Sean had broken up with her and that she made herself puke? How dare he try to bring her down! But she was also afraid. If Toby was A—if he knew—then he really would want to hurt them. It made...sense.