Page 47 of Murder on the Upper East Side

Three weeks into the spring term, Hannah found herself spending most of her time with Oliver – and generally avoiding Madison and Elle. Or perhaps more accurately, ignoring the fact that they were ignoring her. The two queens were reigning peaceably again, but neither seemed to have time for Hannah in their social calendars.

Perhaps they’d run out of roles for her in whatever twisted game of High School Hierarchy they’d been playing, and now that she’d ceased to be useful, they’d grown bored of the girl from Pittsburgh. The truth stung more than she’d like to admit. For months, she’d prided herself on her ability to stay largely out of their drama while enjoying the best parts of the friendship – the clothes, the parties, the penthouses, but also the window into the very real highs and lows of growing up privileged on the Upper East Side. Perhaps she’d been using them too, mistaking nascent journalistic curiosity for real friendship. She hadn’t meant to, but now that she had ample time on herhands to look back over the fall term, it was hard to see her interest in Madison and Elle as entirely genuine.

The distance between them was likely for the best, she told herself while curating themed movie nights with Ami, trying fun new snacks from the Korean mart with Gemma and Oliver, and attending art openings with Dad and Yoko. Ami had been extra sensitive lately, and she’d been trying her best to give her sister as much attention as possible. Nearly two weeks had passed, and Ami was still sulking over her failed Founder’s Day prank. (‘Thewhole pointwas to take credit for it, and I can’t exactly do that now, can I?’) But Hannah’s reminders that she’d been incredibly lucky, actually – no one had gotten seriously hurt, and Ami hadn’t gotten caught – were met with sniffs.

With mounting concern, Hannah wondered what attention-grab her sister would try next. Ami was hungry for acceptance and jealous of Hannah’s place among Prescott’s ‘in’ crowd, however tenuous it had become – and primed to make an absolute mess of things.

For Hannah’s part, spending time in and out of Madison’s favour had made the fall semester fly by, but it had also made her heart rate spike daily. Five months separated her from graduation, and then her brief time at Prescott would be behind her. Everything was as it should be. She didn’t need any more drama.

She almost believed her own bullshit.

An hour before the first bell on Tuesday, the first day back after the brief MLK Day break, Hannah pressedthrough the doors of the Prescott admin suite, on her way to see Mr Harris. As head counsellor for the senior class, he held open hours in the guidance office several times a week. The moment the door to the reception area closed behind her, Hannah’s gaze snapped to Elle, who was sitting alone on one of the navy wing-backed chairs outside Ms Caldwell’s office. Today, Elle had accessorised her uniform with a tortoiseshell barrette set from Alexandre de Paris, a quilted Chanel backpack and patent leather Ferragamo Vara Mary Janes. Fleetingly, the two girls locked eyes across the tall vase of crimson amaryllis resting in the centre of the coffee table, and Hannah drew in a tight breath. Indecision hummed in her gut, then before she could think too hard about it, she sank into the empty chair beside Elle.

‘I should have turned down the invitation to Montauk,’ she said in a single rush of breath. ‘As soon as I got there, it was clear Madison had only brought me to make you mad. It was careless of me.’

Elle’s eyes narrowed. A bemused smile flickered across her lips. ‘I had unshakable plans in the city that evening. Anyone who plans a wedding for Christmas Eve should expect some scheduling conflicts among their guests.’

Hannah’s mouth opened just slightly, then closed. Was Elle implying that she’d been asked to the DuPont–Fairfax wedding – and turned the invitation down?

Elle laughed. ‘Oh honey. Did you think you wereMadison’s first choice? Did you never consider why you received an invitation only the week before?’

Hannah sat in stunned silence. For the past month, she’d assumed Elle’s icy demeanour had been a result of her unwitting role in Madison’s winter break power play, and maybe it had been – but she’d been set up bybothgirls.

‘But your texts at the wedding,’ she stammered. They’d been so eerily timed. So filled with jealousy and spite. Hadn’t they? Now, Hannah struggled to remember exactly what they’d said.

Elle tilted her chin quizzically. ‘I wanted to ensure Madison was showing you the best time in my absence. Which as it turned out, she was not. I knew she’d be distracted by the presence of Bradley Fairfax. Those two have never been able to keep their paws off each other.’

‘Miss Harrington.’ Both their heads whipped in the direction of the Chippendale desk with its ball-and-claw feet several yards to their left, where a young receptionist sat peering across the top of her laptop screen. ‘Ms Caldwell is ready for you.’

‘Thank you.’ Elle stood, and without another word to Hannah, disappeared into the Head of School’s office. For the first time, Hannah wondered why Elle was there, meeting with Ms Caldwell before school hours. Something told her it had nothing to do with discipline. Knowing Elle, she was asking for an exception to add yet another AP to her schedule or pleading her case to switch history teachers.

Before she had too much time to dwell on the possibilities, the door to the guidance office opened, and Mr Harris beckoned her in.

‘Hannah,’ he said with a warm smile. ‘Are we planning your academic future this morning?’

She returned his smile and gathered up her backpack and coat. It seemed like every day, she changed her mind about UPenn versus NYU, Philadelphia versus New York. Mr Harris had offered to help her with a college pros and cons list, and she needed the advice. Bolstered by a fresh wave of determination to focus on life beyond Prescott, she shoved aside the mess of questions raised by her conversation with Elle and stepped into the guidance office.

It was lunchtime. Ten minutes remained before the fifth period bell. In an unexpected turn of events, both Elle and Madison had been kind to Hannah all morning – making space for her beside them at the table in senior seminar, greeting her with big waves in the hall, chatting with her at lunch. She wasn’t sure what had shifted, but perhaps Elle had been waiting for an apology all along. Which she really didn’t deserve, seeing as Hannah had done nothing wrong, but much as she’d spent the past few weeks convincing herself that she didn’tneedtheir hot-and-cold friendship, she had to admit that she’d missed their company, however fickle.

‘Hannah.’ She’d barely stepped through the door to the second-floor bathroom – which was labelledLadies, notGirls, in delicate font.

She spun around. ‘Hello?’

A polished John Lobb loafer propped the door open. In the next moment, Bruno Alvarez pushed the door wide and stuck his head in, grinning.

A small giggle slipped through Hannah’s lips, nerves and curiosity converging. ‘What are you doing here?’

He shrugged. ‘No one else is in here. It’s fine.’

‘Okay then.’ She stepped back, giving Bruno space to come all the way inside the restroom. The door swung shut behind them. ‘What’s up?’

‘An invitation from Theo.’ Bruno extended an off-white envelope towards her. Hannah’s name had been written across the front by a calligrapher. ‘And one for Ami too.’

She accepted both envelopes and leaned against the long marble suite of sinks, a far cry from the institutional white basins at her old public school in Pittsburgh.

‘Theo has you doing his errands?’

Bruno shrugged. ‘It’s Theo’s party, but Madison oversaw the Prescott portion of the guest list. She asked me to deliver these.’