Pretty Little Secrets
Page 7

Hanna was actually excited for class to start. At least when Vince was barking out orders, she was too distracted to feel sad about Lucas. As she pushed open the door to the fitness room, she heard moans. “That feels so, so good,” someone said.
Hanna paused, wondering if a couple had ducked into the room for an early morning make-out session—ew. But then she caught a flash of a familiar red T-shirt. One of the boot campers was lying on the floor, her legs up in the air. Vince was standing above her, pressing on her foot to stretch her hamstring.
“Is that releasing the muscle?” Vince murmured, grinning down at the girl.
“Oh, yeah,” she answered dreamily. “It’s amazing.”
Hanna’s hackles rose. It was Dinah Morrissey, the feel-my-ass girl.
“Want me to do the other leg?” Vince asked.
“Sure,” Dinah purred in a gravelly voice, lifting a checkerboard Vans slip-on. Dinah couldn’t even wear Nikes or Reeboks like a normal gym-goer.
Hanna leapt across the room as fast as her legs could carry her. Maybe she couldn’t compete with Brooke from a thousand miles away, but she was right here in front of Vince, and the choice between her and Dinah was obvious.
“Um, Vince?” she simpered. “I was going to ask you to stretch me out, too. Yesterday’s workout was a killer.” She twirled a piece of hair around her finger. “Would you mind? I’m in so much pain.”
Vince stood and looked from Dinah to Hanna. “Um, sure, I guess I could,” he said, releasing Dinah’s leg. “We have a couple of minutes before everyone else is due to arrive.”
Dinah sat up and crossed her arms over her ample chest. “What about me?”
“I’ll stretch you after class,” Vince promised.
Ha, Hanna thought triumphantly.
“Lie down,” Vince instructed, and Hanna did as she was told. He told her to raise her left leg, knee bent, and cross her right leg over it. He leaned over her, his hands touching her legs lightly, and pressed. “How does this feel?”
“Really good,” Hanna whispered, staring into Vince’s eyes, which were a dazzling shade of turquoise. Once, when Hanna and Mona first joined the gym in eighth grade—back when they were just beginning their transformations into pretty, popular girls—Mona had stood behind Vince at the juice bar and dropped her change on the floor in an attempt to get his attention. When Vince turned those blue eyes on her, she’d felt hypnotized. “I couldn’t say a word,” she’d gushed. “He was just way too gorgeous.”
Hanna hoped Mona was watching her now from whatever hell she was in, eating her heart out.
“You’re really sore from yesterday, huh?” Vince murmured.
“Mmm-hmm,” Hanna murmured. “But it’s a good kind of sore, you know?”
“I’m sore, too,” Dinah piped up, sitting cross-legged next to them. She had the kind of cleavage guys could stuff dollar bills into. “And you’d be so proud of me, Vince. I had grilled chicken and veggies last night for dinner, just like on your meal plan.”
“That’s great.” Vince sounded delighted. Suck-up, Hanna thought.
“So how long have you worked at the gym?” Hanna asked loudly, diverting the attention back to her.
Vince cupped his hands around Hanna’s knee. “A while, I guess. Long enough to notice you. I’ve watched you run on the treadmill. You have great form.” He laughed sheepishly. “Sorry. I hope that doesn’t sound weird.”
“Of course not,” Hanna said quickly. “So have you always wanted to be a trainer?”
“Well, yes and no,” Vince said. “I’d actually like to start my own spa. It would have personal training, but also a lot of body services as well.”
“That sounds amazing,” Hanna gushed. “I love spas.”
Dinah giggled in that good-natured way that sounded friendly but Hanna knew was sarcastic. “Everyone loves spas,” she said.
Hanna wished she could poke her out of the room with the ten-pound Body Bar propped up in the corner. Didn’t she know it was rude to eavesdrop?
Vince was about to say something else, but then the door to the fitness room opened and the rest of the class trundled in, each of them wearing their GET YOUR BUTT IN GEAR! T-shirts again. Hanna hoped they’d laundered them since yesterday.
“Okay,” Vince said, releasing Hanna’s leg and strutting to the front of the room. Everyone gathered around him. Hanna glanced over her shoulder, making sure no one was lurking in the hallway. She thought about Kate’s suspicions yesterday after dinner. Kate hadn’t followed her here, had she? The last thing Hanna needed was pictures of herself sweating and squatting with a bunch of losers getting on the Internet.
“So I wanted to talk to you guys today about nutrition and full-body wellness,” Vince was saying, settling into a lotus position on the floor. “Being fit isn’t just about exercising—it’s about eating right, too. Making healthy choices. Feeling good in your skin. And I want everyone to make a pledge to be healthy and feel good in their skin during this retreat.”
He passed out sheets of paper that said Boot Camp Pledge at the top. It was a long list, each item starting with I vow to. I vow to eat only clean foods—no processed sugar, no high-fructose corn syrup, no artificial flavoring. I vow not to drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes. At the bottom was a space for a signature.
“By the time this class is over, my goal is for all of you to feel good in your skin—no matter what your body shape is or how many pounds you’ve lost,” Vince said. “And one thing that can help you feel good is this.”
He held up a water bottle. Printed on the side was a label that said AMINOSPA in minimalist letters. “This is the most amazing vitamin water I’ve ever tried. It gives you energy, it flushes toxins out—I even think it helps me concentrate better. I’m a licensed seller, but I’ll give you guys a sample for free.”
He pulled more bottles of AminoSpa from his gym bag and tossed one to everyone. “I think you’ll like it,” he urged. “If you want more, I can get you guys a case at a great rate.”
“And you said you sell this, too?” Dinah asked, cocking her head and pursing her full lips.
Vince nodded. “It’s a great part-time job—you can do it from home. If you guys are interested, I can give you the sales literature.”
The business model reminded Hanna of the time in ninth grade when Chassey Bledsoe’s mom had started selling Ginsu knife knockoffs from door to door, bragging about how she was working from home and was making so much money. She even convinced Chassey to bring samples with her to Rosewood Day to give demonstrations during lunch. As soon as the administration had found out Chassey had a suitcase full of knives on school property, they’d stopped it immediately.
But Vince looked so earnest about AminoSpa, like he actually believed it was making everyone healthier and happier. Hanna caught the bottle he threw at her, unscrewed the cap, and took a long swig. She fought the urge to spit it out. It tasted like watered-down margarita mix.
Vince clapped his hands. “Okay. Let’s start sweating, shall we? The next couple weeks are going to be really intense—you’re going to be pushed to your limits. A lot of our exercises are going to involve sparring, competing, and partner stretches, so I’m going to pair you guys up. The person I pair you with will be your partner for the rest of the class; you guys will be spending lots of time together. They’ll be your check-in for your nutritional goals—and hopefully a lifelong friend.”
At this, Vince shot Hanna a coy, fleeting look, and Hanna’s insides swirled. It was definitely a signal: He was going to pair her with him. She could already picture it: the two of them shadowboxing, Vince rallying her on. The two of them running on the Marwyn trail, the other slowpokes far back in the distance. After each session, they’d drink lattes—or AminoSpas—together, blissfully spent. Then when Lucas got back, she would show him just how fine she was while he was gone.
“Tara, I want you with Josie.” Vince pointed at two middle-aged women in the back. They smiled at each other pleasantly. “Ralph, you’ll be partners with Jerome.” Two barrel-chested, bandy-legged guys nodded. Vince continued around the room, matching one red-shirted member to another. His gaze kept sweeping past Hanna, skipping over her. Because he was leaving her for himself, of course.
Finally, Vince pointed to Hanna and grinned. “Hanna. You’ll be with . . .”
Hanna expected him to thump his chest and triumphantly say me, so when he pointed at someone across the room, she didn’t understand. She’d thought she was the only unpaired person left standing, but one other retreater remained. The girl’s hands were on her full hips. She shifted in her checkerboard Vans. Her heavily outlined eyes were narrowed and her red lips were curled in a sneer.
It was Dinah.
Chapter 9
Fake Boyfriends Are So Much Fun
On Saturday afternoon, Hanna speed-walked into Momma’s Sweet Shoppe, the brand-new-but-made-to-look-old ice cream fountain in the Devon Crest Mall. The floor was a black-and-white checkerboard pattern, there were old-fashioned chrome and leather stools at the counter, and a chalkboard listing types of floats, malts, and the various ice cream flavors of the day hung above the milk-shake machines. The waitstaff wore crisp white shirts, red-and-white-striped vests, and white paper hats, and fifties doo-wop blared over the stereo.
Her father, Isabel, and Kate followed, making brr noises at the bracing wind and subzero temperatures they’d had to endure in the parking lot. “Tell me again why we’re getting ice cream right now?” Hanna said, her teeth still chattering.
Mr. Marin unwound his heavy red scarf from his neck. “Because this is what Kate and her mom did after every Nutcracker performance Kate danced in. Right, ladies?”
“Right,” Isabel said proudly, patting Kate’s shoulder. “It was always a double scoop of mint chip for my little Clara.”
Hanna suppressed a groan. It was the same saccharine phrase Isabel had been saying all day, from the trek into Philly to see a matinee of The Nutcracker at the Academy of Music to the curtain call at the end of the ballet to the long hunt for a parking space at the mall. Kate was her little Clara, the child lead in The Nutcracker, the role Kate had danced for four years with their local ballet troupe in Annapolis, and it had been Kate’s favorite ballet ever since. Honestly, Hanna didn’t get the ballet’s allure—a rich girl’s house is infested with mice; candy canes, snowflakes, and strange Russian men don’t let her sleep; and then she and a Mouse King in a really ugly vest disappear into some giant beehive. It seemed like one long acid trip.
“I bet you’re still an amazing ballerina.” Isabel pushed a piece of hair out of Kate’s eyes. “You should see her dance, Tom. She’s just so graceful.”
“Maybe you should take some classes again,” Mr. Marin suggested. “You’d probably fall right back into it.”