Crushed

10 Just Like Old Times

The sky turned gloomy as Hanna steered the Prius into the parking lot of the William Atlantic Plastic Surgery and Burn Rehabilitation Clinic. She shut off the engine and looked at the squat, übermodern building. Was she seriously doing this? Part of her wanted to call up Spencer and beg for a different mission.

Her old phone bleated a new message from her school e-mail account. It was from Chassey Bledsoe: VOTE CHASSEY FOR QUEEN!

Hanna squeezed the phone between her hands, wishing she could send an alert, too. How else would people know what an awesome queen she’d make? And she’d heard that, as part of the Starry Night theme, the queen’s crown would be even more bejeweled than ever.

The Starry Night. Her insides twisted. It was such an eerie coincidence that the very painting Aria had stolen was this year’s prom theme—if it was a coincidence at all. All A would have to do was tip the cops off that the painting was in Aria’s closet and she’d be done for. And though the police might not ever know that Spencer and Emily knew about the theft, there were Hanna’s phone records from that night in Iceland. She’d be ruined, too. Who knew, maybe A would even figure out a way to blame them for Olaf’s death.

What had Aria seen in Olaf, anyway? His beard was nasty. The cap he wore looked like it was from a Dumpster. But Aria was always into those grungy dudes—Hanna had been surprised, actually, when she started dating Noel. Neither of them were each other’s types—a few boys on the lacrosse team even joked for a while that Noel was dating Aria because her dad, Byron, had access to good pot. Hanna was pretty sure that wasn’t true, but what if Noel did have an ulterior motive to go for Aria? What if someone had put him up to it? Someone like . . . Ali? Could Noel be Ali’s helper?

Hanna hated to think it, but Ali having a helper made a lot of sense. It also fit that Noel was that person—for a lot of different reasons. At the beginning of sixth grade, when Real Ali was still around and Hanna was still a loserish nothing, her BFF was Scott Chin. Scott was out of the closet even then, and he had a raging crush on Noel and was always jealous of his girlfriends. “What does he see in Alison DiLaurentis?” he whined at lunch one day when he spied Ali and Noel giggling at the cool table. “She’s such a butter face. Everything about her is pretty . . . but her face.”

Hanna rolled her eyes. “She’s not a butter face.” Alison was the most beautiful girl ever. She’d modeled at the King James Mall spring and fall runway shows, and rumor had it she’d even been tapped by a big agency in New York City.

“Oh please, yes, she is.” Scott’s eyebrows, which Hanna suspected he plucked, knitted together. “I wonder if Noel has to close his eyes when he makes out with her.”

Hanna lowered her PB&J. “Do you think they actually make out?” Kissing was still exotic to her. She couldn’t believe kids her age were doing it.

“Oh, yeah.” Scott had nodded. “I saw them doing it in the woods behind the playground.”

Sighing, Hanna returned to the present and pushed through the double doors. Instantly, the familiar odor of gauze, antiseptic, and something that could only be described as burnt skin hit her like a tidal wave. She looked around, taking in the fake flowers on the tables and the patient art on the walls. Everything was the same as the last time she’d been here, down to the peppermints in the dish on the front desk. She remembered, suddenly, running into Mona in this lobby. Mona had acted all weird and cagey about why she was there, not admitting she was getting treatment for the burns from the prank-gone-wrong that Ali, Hanna, and the others had played on Toby Cavanaugh. In all the time they’d been friends, Hanna had never known Mona had been at the Cavanaughs that night, watching Ali shoot that firework into the tree house, witnessing Jenna getting blinded, maybe even hearing the fight Ali and Toby had afterward. Of course, Mona’s silence had been intentional.

“Hanna?”

She looked up and saw Sean Ackard’s rounded cheeks, burning blue eyes, and do-gooder smile. He stood in the doorway of one of the offices, wearing a crisp blue button-down that looked like it had come straight from his father’s closet.

“Hey, good to see you!” Sean said. “Why don’t you step in here so we can talk?”

Hanna fiddled with a tissue box on the front desk. “I’m waiting to see your dad.”

Sean rapped on the doorjamb. “Nope. Your interview is with me.”

Hanna bit down hard on the inside of her mouth. She hadn’t really spoken to Sean since things crashed and burned last year. These days, he was going out with Kate. Total weirdness.

Shrugging, she followed Sean into the room and sat down on a couch. Sean sat at a desk that was populated with stacks of papers, a flat-screen computer, and empty coffee mugs. An Elmo stuffed animal sat on a shelf behind him. There was a picture of Sean shaking the hand of the governor of Pennsylvania. “Do you work here now?” Hanna asked in confusion.

“On the weekends, just to help my dad.” Sean straightened some papers. “We’re so overcrowded right now—a couple of local hospitals closed their burn clinics because of budget cuts.” He exhaled heavily, then looked at Hanna. “So how’s Mike?”

Hanna blinked, startled. “Uh, fine.”

The mention of Mike made her feel squirmy. It wasn’t like he knew she was here; he’d never, ever understand why she was back to beg for her old job. Every story she’d told him about the place was more disgusting than the last. She’d told him she had a hair appointment today to practice for her prom updo, but all he had to do was call up Fermata, the salon, and catch her in the lie.

“Good.” Sean smiled. “So you actually want to come back?”

Hanna shifted. “I feel bad about cutting my volunteer time short,” she lied. “After everything that has happened to me, I thought I should give back a little, you know?”

Sean arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t you hate it here?”

Hanna clasped her hands together, trying to look earnest. “I’ve changed. Volunteering means a lot to me. I have a friend in here right now, actually, someone I met on the cruise. Graham Pratt?”

Sean sat back in his chair. “Yeah, Graham came in a few days ago.” He shook his head solemnly. “That cruise sounded like a nightmare. I heard about what happened to you guys, too—about that life raft. Some people were saying it was a suicide pact.”

Hanna didn’t dignify that with a response. “It was scary to have to evacuate . . . and then get stranded at sea. I sort of had an epiphany when I almost drowned—life’s too short, I’d better make it count. So . . . please, can I help out?”

Sean bounced a pencil, eraser down, on the desk. “Well, my dad said you could volunteer again as long as you work hard.”

“I can do that!”

“Okay,” Sean said. He extended his hand to Hanna, and she shook it. Then, his expression suddenly became almost mournful. “You know, I never got to tell you how awful I felt about all that Ali stuff.”

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

“I can’t even imagine what that must have been like,” Sean went on.

Hanna’s eyes filled with tears. It was one thing for a friend, a parent, a complete stranger to offer sympathy, but there was something both touching and weird about Sean saying it. “Thanks,” she mumbled.

Sean stepped forward, wrapped his arms around her, and gave her a quick hug. He smelled familiar, like cinnamon and deodorant and the potpourri his mom used generously around the house. It was a nice smell, a comfortable smell. Suddenly, Hanna didn’t hate him as much.

She left his office for the women’s staff room, where she changed out of her Rachel Zoe print dress and snakeskin flats into hideous, oversized scrubs that smelled like puke. Then she went back to Sean’s office.

“Ms. Marin?” A woman in pink scrubs appeared from around the corner. “I’m Kelly, one of the head nurses. I’m here to show you the ropes.”

“Kelly’s one of our best,” Sean said proudly.

“What would you like me to do?” Hanna asked pertly.

“How do you feel about bedpans?” Kelly asked.

Hanna winced, but it wasn’t like she could complain with Sean still standing right there. “I love bedpans.”

“Well, great!” Kelly pumped her fist in the air. “Let me show you what to do!”

Kelly helped her with the first bedpan, giving Hanna the opportunity to carry the pee-filled thing down the hall. A male nurse passed her going the opposite direction. Hanna couldn’t help but stare—he was tall, built, and extremely handsome, with a shaved head and gleaming blue eyes.

“Hey,” the nurse said to Hanna, widening his eyes at Hanna’s boobs.

“H-hey,” Hanna stammered back, then followed the nurse’s gaze. He wasn’t staring at her boobs. He was looking at the bedpan. Pee sloshed over the sides, splashing dangerously close to Hanna’s scrubs. She squealed and almost dropped the thing on the floor.

Kelly giggled. “Jeff always has that effect on people.”

They continued into the next room. Sean was right about the place being overcrowded: There were burn victims everywhere she looked. In the halls. Crammed three to a room. There was even a bed in one of the waiting areas.

“Is this legal?” Hanna asked, nearly tripping over someone’s monitor stand.

Kelly shrugged. “Until the new wing is finished, we don’t have anywhere to put everyone.”

Then Kelly pantomimed inhaling and exhaling an invisible cigarette and said she’d be back. Hanna turned back for the supply room to grab a clean bedpan. Something behind her caught her eye. The nurse’s station was empty. Every single chair was unoccupied.

She tiptoed around the desk and peered at the computer console. A program showed a list of patients in the clinic and their corresponding room numbers. Score. She dragged the pointer down the page. GRAHAM PRATT. According to the files, he was in room 142, which was just down the hall.

She stepped away from the desk just as Kelly swept around the corner, smelling like a Newport. “Okay, honey, time for mopping!”

Hanna added soap to the bucket and started down a hall. She gazed at the room numbers as she passed: 132 . . . 134 . . . 138 . . . and there it was, room 142. It wasn’t a room, per se—more like a small partition in a corner separated by a curtain.

She held her breath and peeked in. There, on a bed, lay a boy with a big bandage on his head and neck. His eyes were shut tight, and tubes snaked into his hands and mouth. Several machines beeped. A frisson went through Hanna’s body. This was what A was capable of. Hanna must have made a strange noise, because Kelly placed her hand on her shoulder. “That’s your friend? I heard you talking about him to Sean.”

Hanna stared at the blinking lights on Graham’s monitors. “Y-yeah,” she said, feeling a little bad for lying. “How is he?”

Kelly’s mouth made an upside-down U. “He’s in and out.”

“Has he said anything?”

Kelly shrugged. “No. Why?”

For a split second, she was looking at Hanna kind of suspiciously. “Can you do me a favor?” she asked in an innocent voice. “If he starts to wake up and I’m not here, can you call my house? I want to tell him something important. Something I should have told him before all this.”

Kelly’s eyes softened. “He really meant something to you, huh?” She gave Hanna’s hand a squeeze. “You got it.”

Then Kelly disappeared back into the hall. Hanna remained where she was, staring at the figure on the bed. Graham’s monitors beeped steadily. His chest rose up and down. Then, his eyelids fluttered and his lips parted.

Hanna leaned over his bed. “Graham?” she whispered. “Are you there?” Did you see A? she asked silently.

A puff of air escaped between Graham’s lips. His eyelashes fluttered once more, and then he went motionless on the pillow. Hanna pulled away from the bed, her heart still pounding hard. Graham was going to wake up soon. She could feel it.

A high-pitched giggle came from the vents. Hanna stiffened and looked down the hall. Patients lay motionless. Mop water gleamed on the floor. Everything was so still and quiet that for a second Hanna felt like she was dead.

She shuddered. If she and the others didn’t find Ali and her helper soon, she might be.