“Whatev,” Hanna mumbled. Talk about ironic—when she didn’t give a shit about Time Capsule anymore, she found a piece without even looking at the clues posted in the school lobby. In sixth grade, the first year she’d been allowed to play, Hanna had fantasized about how she’d decorate a piece if she were lucky enough to find one. Some kids drew pointless things on their pieces, like a flower or a smiley face or—dumbest of all—the Rosewood Day crest, but Hanna understood that a well-decorated Time Capsule flag was as important as carrying the right handbag or getting highlights from the Henri Flaubert salon in the King James. When Hanna, Spencer, and the others confronted Ali in her backyard the day after the game started, Ali had described in detail what she’d drawn on her stolen piece. A Chanel logo. The Louis Vuitton pattern. A manga frog. A girl playing field hockey. As soon as Hanna got home that day, she wrote down everything Ali said she’d drawn on her flag, not wanting to forget. It sounded so glamorous and exactly right.
Then, in eighth grade, Hanna and Mona found a Time Capsule piece together. Hanna wanted to incorporate Ali’s elements into the design, but she was afraid Mona might ask her what they meant—she hated bringing up Ali to Mona, since Mona had been one of the girls Ali loved to tease. Hanna thought she was being a good friend—little did she know Mona was slowly masterminding a way to ruin Hanna’s life.
Naomi and Riley bounded over, both of them immediately noticing Hanna’s flag. Riley’s brown eyes boggled. She reached a pale, freckly arm out to touch the piece, but Hanna snapped it back, feeling protective. It would be just like one of these bitches to steal Hanna’s flag when she wasn’t looking. All of a sudden, she understood what Ali meant when she told Ian she was going to guard her piece with her life. And she understood, too, why Ali had been furious the day someone had stolen it from her.
Then again, Ali had been furious, but not exactly devastated. In fact, Ali had been more distracted that day than anything else. Hanna distinctly remembered how Ali kept looking over at the woods and her house, as if she thought someone was listening. Then, after whining about her missing piece for a while, Ali suddenly snapped back to her bitchy, frosty self, walking away from Hanna and the others without another word, like there was something more important on her mind than talking to four losers.
When it was clear Ali wasn’t coming back outside, Hanna had walked to the front yard and retrieved her bike. Ali’s street had seemed so pleasant. The Cavanaughs had a pretty red tree house in their side yard. Spencer’s family had a big windmill spinning at the back of the property. There was a house down the street that had a humungous six-car garage and a water fountain in the front yard. Later, Hanna would learn it was where Mona lived.
And then she’d heard an engine backfiring. A sleek, vintage black car with tinted windows chugged at Ali’s curb, as if waiting…or watching. Something about it made the hair on the back of Hanna’s neck stand up. Maybe that’s who stole Ali’s flag, she’d thought. Not that she ever found out for sure.
Hanna gazed at Naomi, who was adding Splenda to her mint tea. Naomi and Riley used to be Ali’s best friends in sixth grade, but right after Time Capsule started, Ali ditched them both. She never explained why. Maybe Naomi and Riley had been the ones who’d stolen Ali’s flag—maybe they’d been inside that black car Hanna had seen at the curb. And maybe that was why Ali dropped them—maybe Ali asked them for her flag back, and when they denied they’d taken it, she cut them off. But if that was what happened, why didn’t Naomi or Riley turn in the flag as their own? Why did the flag stay lost?
There was a commotion at the front of Steam, and the crowd parted. Eight Rosewood Day lacrosse boys strutted by in a cocky, confident herd. Mike Montgomery was wedged between Noel Kahn and James Freed.
Riley jostled Kate’s arm, making the gold bangle bracelets around Kate’s wrist jingle. “There he is.”
“You should totally go talk to him,” Naomi murmured, her blue eyes widening. At that, the three of them stood up and strolled over. Naomi ogled Noel. Riley tossed her long red hair at Mason. Now that lax boys were permitted, it was a free-for-all.
“Rosewood Day is really picky about people drawing inappropriate stuff on the Time Capsule flag,” Mike was saying to his friends. “But if the lax team found every single piece and made one huge inappropriate drawing—of like, a penis—Appleton wouldn’t be able to do a thing. He wouldn’t even know it was a penis until he unveiled the flag at the assembly.”
Noel Kahn slapped him on the back. “Nice. I can’t wait for the look on Appleton’s face.”
Mike pantomimed Principal Appleton, who was getting up there in years, shakily unfolding the reconstructed flag for the school to see. “Now, what’s this?” he said in a craggy old-man voice, holding an invisible magnifying glass to his eye. “Is this what you young whippersnappers call…a schlong?”
Kate burst out laughing. Hanna glanced at her, astonished. There was no way Kate could honestly think these cretins were funny. Mike noticed her laughing and smiled.
“That imitation of Appleton is perfect,” Kate cooed. Hanna clenched her jaw. As if Kate had even met Principal Appleton yet. She’d only been a Rosewood Day student for a week.
“Thanks,” Mike said, running his eyes up and down Kate’s body, from her boots to her slender legs to her Rosewood Day blazer, which fit Kate’s willowy frame perfectly. Hanna noted with annoyance that Mike didn’t look at her once. “I do a pretty good impression of Lance the shop teacher, too.”