Time really does fly, because I could have sworn that it had only been a few weeks since I last updated, and then I looked at my stats...yeah, it's been almost two months. I'm super sorry about the long wait, but with the semester coming to an end in a few weeks, I should be able to start updating more regularly very soon!

I'm curious to know what you guys think about this chapter. To be honest, I'm not even sure if I really like the plot twist here, but here we are. I hope you enjoy, and I'm hoping to get the next update up much more quickly!

Chapter 10

Hanna had thought nothing could be more degrading than picking up trash on the side of the road wearing a hideous orange jumpsuit.

But it turned out that sitting in a cold jail cell wearing a hideous orange jumpsuit was far, far worse.

It had been the longest forty-eight hours of her life. Longer than when she'd found out Caleb was working for Jenna, right after they'd slept together for the first time. Longer than the night she'd spent in the police station's interrogation room, wearing an itchy bridesmaid dress. Longer, even, than the several days she'd spent waiting for the results of the search warrant.

As much as this whole situation sucked, the one good thing Hanna had to say was that at least it was her locked up here, and not her mother. Ashley had sat across the table from her just a few hours ago, the second Hanna was allowed visitors. With a wavering voice and teary eyes, she'd promised Hanna that she was working with Veronica Hastings, that they would get her out as soon as possible.

When Hanna was told that she had more visitors, just half an hour before visiting hours ended, she'd figured she knew who was going to be sitting on the other side of the table. But she was still flooded with relief when she entered the room, flanked by a guard, to see Spencer, Aria, Emily, and Mona waiting for her.

"Hanna," Emily breathed as Hanna sank into the chair across from them.

Feeling suddenly awkward, as well as totally drained, Hanna pushed her greasy bangs out of her face. "Well, I was right. Orange really doesn't go with anything," she muttered, picking at one of her polyester sleeves.

It was an attempt at a joke, but it fell completely flat, landing on the table between them with an almost audible thud. The girls shifted. Spencer cleared her throat. "How are you holding up?"
Although well intentioned, the question felt generic, empty. "As well as you would expect," Hanna answered, not about to admit that she'd nearly puked from the putrid smell in the showers this morning, or that she could have sworn she saw an actual rat scurrying across the floor outside of her cell.

"Look." Spencer reached across the table and squeezed Hanna's hand briefly. The guard, thankfully, had moved to stand just outside the closed door. "I overheard my parents talking earlier. My mom doesn't even need to prove your innocence. As long as she can find just one piece of evidence that contradicts the case the police are building against you, she's pretty sure she'll be able to get you out."

The words "pretty sure" didn't provide Hanna with a whole ton of comfort, but at this point, she was willing to take what she could get. "What's she going to do?"

"I don't know," Spencer admitted. "But she's working on it. It's her first priority, Han."

Hanna let out a breath as Mona shook her head, looking disgusted and a little bit impressed. "We knew A was capable of a lot, but transferring your fingerprints onto that gun? We really did underestimate that bitch."

Hanna's vision darkened for a moment. Her heart began to pick up pace, thumping hard in her chest. She should have known they'd bring up the gun – the thing that had landed Hanna here in the first place – and yet she'd naively hoped that she could get away without telling them the truth.

"Yeah," Emily agreed. "I didn't even think that was possible. But they must have made it look pretty real."

"Come on, it's the Rosewood police we're talking about," Aria argued, lowering her voice and shooting a quick glance toward the guard outside the door. She drummed her fingers nervously against the metal tabletop. "Not exactly the world's finest."

"Well, the good thing is that we know A's behind this," Spencer said confidently. "So if we can figure out how they managed to transfer Hanna's fingerprints, maybe we can – "

"Guys." The word slipped out of Hanna's mouth without her permission. "There's…something I have to tell you."

Four pairs of eyes met hers. "What is it?" Emily asked. Her eyebrows knitted together.

The brief flash of confidence drained out of Hanna. She fidgeted uncomfortably in the cold metal seat, feeling like she was standing onstage, under bright lights. She thought back to all of the bad memories they'd shared over the years. Aria smashing her dad's office to bits. The girls sneaking into that frat party.

This really wasn't any worse than any of that. But in hindsight, it did make Hanna feel pretty freaking stupid.

"Those fingerprints…on the gun," she began, sucking in a breath. "A didn't put them there. They're really mine."

Her friends exchanged surprised glances. "It was your dad's gun, right?" Aria said. "What, did you go to a shooting range with him or something?"
Hanna was so tempted to say yes. That would make sense. That would be the easiest explanation. But it wouldn't be the truth. And if they were going to get through whatever A had to throw at them, they had to stop lying, especially to each other.

She folded her hands on the table with a sigh. "No. I wasn't with my dad when my fingerprints ended up on that gun. I was with Alison."

…

Hanna could hear the music blaring, nearly shaking the ground beneath her feet, before Noel's house was even in sight. Her tote bag suddenly felt as heavy as if it was filled with bricks. She stopped short. "Ali, wait. I don't know about this."

Alison turned back to her. Her hair was perfectly straightened, her pink lip-gloss glimmered, and her eyes shined the way they always did just before a party. As she took in Hanna's nervous expression, her mouth twisted in obvious frustration. "Don't tell me you're backing out now. I told you, this is a good idea!"

Feeling suddenly self-conscious, Hanna tugged her scoop neck t-shirt further down over her waistline. "I just don't get how this is going to impress Sean."

Ali groaned and grabbed Hanna's arm, dragging her along toward the house. "I told you. Spencer said Sean always checks out books on different kinds of weapons from the library. And apparently he goes hunting with his dad on the weekends. He'll think it's totally cool."

Hanna hitched her bag higher on her shoulder. She was so aware of the small handgun inside that she could practically feel its cold metal pressing against her side. She wished Spencer were here to give her input. Ali was definitely smart when it came to guys, but sometimes her ideas could be a little extreme. And Hanna's blood was still pumping with adrenaline from slipping her dad's gun out of its safe in the first place.

But they were striding up to the front door of Noel's gigantic mansion before Hanna could give it any more thought. "Boys," Ali simpered, nodding in the direction of a group of juniors near the entrance. They immediately scrambled out of her way.

The front hallway was packed with people. Someone squeezed past them, and a bit of beer sloshed out of their cup and onto Hanna's shoe. Hanna clutched her bag to her chest, feeling as uneasy as she had when she'd gone to her first party with Alison, right after they'd become friends.

"Now." Alison turned abruptly to Hanna. She nodded to the left. "Sean's right over there. You go talk to him, and I'll get us some drinks." She winked and disappeared before Hanna could protest.

Feeling a wave of nerves in her stomach, Hanna looked wildly around. Sean was standing near the huge TV in the media room, chatting with a few guys on the baseball team. Hanna headed over, suddenly craving a big box of Cheez-Its.

She almost hoped that Sean wouldn't notice her, but just as she approached, the boys he was talking to slapped him on the back and headed toward the kitchen. Hanna took a deep breath and steadied herself. This was going to work. Ali was right. Ali was always right about things like this.

"Hey, Sean," she said shakily, forcing a smile as she stopped in front of him. She sucked in her breath, painfully aware of her stomach puffing over the top of her jeans.

Sean offered her the same small, slightly confused smile he usually did when he saw her. "Hey, Hanna. You here with your friends?"

"Um, just Ali." Hanna fiddled clumsily with the zipper on her bag. "I actually…I have something to show you. If you…if you want."

Sean's eyes crinkled. "What do you mean?"

Hanna was more certain than ever that this was a ridiculous idea, but it wasn't like she could go back now. She reached into her bag. Her fingers closed around her dad's handgun. "I, um, I heard you're into hunting and stuff," she said over the music, pulling it out. It glinted in the light. "This is my dad's."

From the way Ali had hyped up this interaction, Hanna half-expected Sean to instantly bond with her over this new shared connection. His eyes widened at the sight of the gun, and her heart lifted. But then he stumbled back. "Whoa. Hanna, why did you bring that here?"

Hanna's heart started to pound. "I thought you'd want to see it. Since, you know, you're into guns," she said uncertainly.

Sean ran a hand through his short hair. He looked around with a grimace. "I mean, yeah, maybe out in the woods with my dad, but not at a party. Jesus."

This was not going well. Hanna glanced around, wishing that Ali would reappear and fix everything. She felt heat rise to her face. "I didn't…I just…I thought that – "

"You should probably put that thing away," Sean interjected. The nice guy that he was, he gave her one last, strange smile, then practically bolted away from her.

Hanna stood stock-still, mortification flooding through her. The gun was still clutched in her hand. What had she been thinking? Why had she let Ali talk her into this? Of course Sean wouldn't be impressed by her showing off a handgun in the middle of a house party. It was weird. And the fact that she knew so much about his hobbies probably made her seem like a stalker. A bitter feeling snaked into her stomach. If Ali had done this, she would have seemed confident and badass. But Hanna just came across as awkward and probably a little creepy.

She closed her eyes to try and force back tears. All she wanted to do was find Alison and get out of here, now. But just as she was moving to open her bag again, it happened.

A ninth grade boy in Hanna's geometry class gave his friend a joking shove, and the other boy fell back. His elbow connected with Hanna's ribs, and she gasped, instinctively squeezing hard on the handle of the gun.

The pounding music covered any sound, but the kickback that Hanna felt nearly rocked her entire body. There was no denying what had happened. The gun had gone off. The loaded gun.

Hanna's vision went momentarily dark. She'd never so much as touched her father's gun before this night, and now she'd just fired off a bullet – right in the middle of a crowded room. Her breath caught in her throat, and she turned her head just in time to see a girl wearing a white skirt and sparkly tank top groan, one of her knees buckling.

"Monica?" the redhead beside her asked. "What's wrong?"

The girl scrunched up her face. She bent over, her hand clutching her knee. "I don't know. I feel like I just got stung by a bee." As Hanna watched, frozen, she pulled her hand away. Bright red blood trickled down her fingers. "What the hell?"

A hand fell on Hanna's shoulder, and she whirled around, her heart leaping into her throat in fear as she shoved the handgun instantly back into her bag. But it was only Ali. Her eyes flitted from Hanna's bag to Monica, who was easing herself onto the arm of the couch and staring in shock at the blood drizzling down her knee.

Hanna just shook her head, speechless, as Alison's face registered first shock, then disgusted comprehension. "Oh my god, Han."

"I didn't mean to!" Hanna squeaked. Her hands started to shake uncontrollably. She'd shot someone. She'd shot someone. Sure, the bullet had clearly only grazed her, but that did nothing to calm her pounding heart. "I was just – "

Ali glanced around, then grabbed Hanna's arm. The rest of the partygoers were still milling around, laughing raucously and drinking. No one besides Monica and her friends had noticed anything out of the ordinary. "We're getting out of here. Now."

…

Hanna's hands were shaking as badly as they had been on that horrible night by the time she was finished talking. Worried that the guard would burst in if she put them out of sight, she held them tightly in her lap instead of sitting on them as she took in her friends' faces.

Emily's eyes were as wide as saucers. Aria was gaping. Spencer looked speechless, and Mona was staring at Hanna stoically, looking just the slightest bit impressed.

"Oh my god," Emily said after a long moment of silence. "I can't believe you never told us that."

Hanna lowered her head. She couldn't bring herself to meet any of their eyes. "Ali swore me to secrecy. She said that if anyone found out what happened that night, we'd both get busted."

"She was probably right," Mona admitted with a shrug. "It sounds like the bullet just grazed that girl, but you still hit her."

"Mona," Aria said sharply, giving her a look.

"No, it's true," Hanna said miserably. "It's awful, but it's true. That whole night has haunted me since it happened. There was no way I could have told you guys."

"That girl Monica was in my history class that year," Spencer said, leaning forward. "I don't remember her having a cast or anything. Her leg must have turned out fine, Han."

Hanna was pretty sure even Spencer wouldn't be able to remember something like that, but the thought comforted her nonetheless. "Hey," Emily spoke up. "Isn't this a good thing?" When Hanna just stared at her, she went on, "This means you left those fingerprints on the gun years ago. Won't the police be able to tell that?"

Hanna's heart lifted – maybe Emily was on to something. But it plunged back into her chest at the look that Mona and Spencer exchanged. "There is technology to determine how much time has passed since prints were left on a surface," Mona said slowly.

"Yeah," Spencer added. "But it's still developing. I doubt the Rosewood police will have access to something like that."

"Great." Hanna brushed back her hair, feeling a new wave of hopelessness. "That's great."

"But you could still use this to your benefit," Spencer said. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. Hanna spotted the familiar gleam of an idea in her eyes. "Hanna, you need to tell my mom about this. As soon as possible."

"What?" Hanna came close to jumping out of her seat, but she remembered the guard watching them through the window just in time. "Spence, are you crazy?"

Aria nodded. "Yeah, I don't know if Hanna confessing to shooting someone is the best idea." Hanna flinched at her words, and she shot her a sympathetic look. "Sorry."

"I'm not telling anyone. No way. And none of you can either."

But Spencer was looking more energized by the second. "No, listen to me. This is your piece of evidence. It could be all the police need to let you go, for now at least. Just enough doubt to throw their story into question."

Mona smiled slightly. "I'm with Spencer. That gun is the only evidence against you that they have. This could change that."

Logically, Hanna knew that their argument made sense. And she could barely stand the thought of staying in jail any longer. But from an emotional standpoint, the idea of looking Spencer's mother in the eye and confessing to not only stealing her father's gun, but actually shooting someone in the leg with it – albeit accidentally – made her heart race with fear. "Even if they believe me," she protested, "won't I still get in trouble? I took the gun from my dad. I hurt someone with it."

Spencer raised her eyebrows. "What sounds better – giving someone a minor leg injury, or killing a police officer?"

"A few drops of blood versus a few gallons," Mona mumbled.

Hanna felt like she'd been struck dumb. She looked across the table at each of her friends. Mona and Spencer were nodding confidently. Aria shook her head, still looking disturbed by the idea. Emily stared down at the table, seeming conflicted.

A few long moments passed, the ticking of the caged clock on the wall deafening in the silence. Aria met her eyes, frowning in concern. "Hanna?"

Hanna finally swallowed the lump in her throat. She shook her head firmly. "I can't, you guys. As long as I keep my mouth shut, there's a chance I can go free. But as soon as I confess to hurting that girl, the cops will definitely have a case to build against me."

"But – " Spencer started, but the guard reentered the room, and she clamped her mouth shut.

"Visiting hours are over," he announced, pulling Hanna roughly out of her seat. "Time for you girls to go."

"Han," Mona called as Hanna was pushed toward the door. "Just think about it, okay?"

But Hanna glanced back, shaking her head again. "I'm sorry. I can't do it," she practically whispered.

Spencer sighed. "We'll come back and see you as soon as we can!" Emily promised, and the door swung shut behind them.

Hanna tried to calm her shaking hands as the guard led her back to her cell. She couldn't help but admit that Spencer and Mona had a point. Telling Mrs. Hastings about that night with Ali could potentially make the cops rethink their theory about that gun.

But to do that would also mean confessing to something else – something not as bad, sure, but a crime all the same. And the fact that Alison, who could potentially also be implicated, was possibly alive made the situation even stickier.

Hanna sank onto the hard cot in her cell and lowered her head into her hands. Her friends' words rang through her head, along with the same question. Is it worth it?