Free Unbelievable by Sara Shepard Page B

third-floor intensive care unit. Inside, patients were sprawled out in a circle, separated only by curtains. A long, U-shaped nurse’s desk sat in the middle of the room. Aria passed an old black woman who looked dead, a silver-haired man in a neck brace, and a groggy-looking fortysomething who was muttering to herself. Hanna’s partitioned-off area was along one of the walls. With her long, healthy auburn hair, unlined skin, and taut, young body, Hanna was definitely the thing in the ICU that didn’t belong. Her cordoned-off area was full of flowers, boxes of candy, stacks of magazines, and stuffed animals. Someone had bought her a large, white teddy bear that wore a patterned wrap dress. When Aria flipped open the tag on the bear’s plushy arm, she saw that the bear’s name was Diane von FurstenBEAR. There was a brand-new white cast on Hanna’s arm. Lucas Beattie, Mona Vanderwaal, and Hanna’s parents had already signed it.
    Lucas was sitting in the yellow plastic chair by Hanna’s bed, a Teen Vogue on his lap. “‘Even the pastiest legs will benefit from Lancôme Soleil Flash Browner tinted mousse, which gives skin a subtle sheen,’” he read, licking his finger to turn the page. When he noticed Aria, he stopped, a sheepish look crossing his face. “The doctors say it’s good to talk to Hanna—that she can hear. But maybe fall is a stupid time to talk about self-tanners? Maybe I should read her the article on Coco Chanel instead? Or the one about Teen Vogue ’s new interns? It says they’re better than the Hills girls.”
    Aria glanced at Hanna, a lump growing in her throat. Metal guards lined the sides of her bed, as if she was a toddler at risk of rolling out. There were green bruises on her face, and her eyes seemed sealed closed. This was the first time Aria had seen a coma patient up close. A monitor recording Hanna’s heartbeat and blood pressure let out a constant beep, beep, beep noise. It made Aria uneasy. She couldn’t help but anticipate that the beeping would abruptly flatline, like it always did in the movies before someone died. “So, have the doctors said anything about her prognosis?” Aria asked shakily.
    “Well, her hand’s fluttering. Like that, see?” Lucas gestured to Hanna’s right hand, the one with the cast on it. Her fingernails looked like someone had recently painted them a brilliant coral. “Which seems promising. But the doctors say it might not mean anything—they still aren’t sure if she has any brain damage.”
    Aria’s stomach dropped.
    “But I’m trying to think positive. The fluttering means she’s about to wake up.” Lucas closed the magazine and set it on Hanna’s bedside table. “And apparently, some of her brain activity readouts show that she might’ve been awake last night…but nobody saw it.” He sighed. “I’m going to go get a soda. Want anything?”
    Aria shook her head. Lucas stood up from his chair and Aria took his place. Before Lucas left, he drummed his fingers against the door frame. “Did you hear there’s going to be a candlelight vigil for Hanna on Friday?”
    Aria shrugged. “Don’t you think it’s sort of bizarre that it’s at a country club?”
    “Sort of,” Lucas whispered. “Or fitting.”
    He gave Aria a smirk and padded away. As he smacked the automatic door button and walked out of the ICU ward, Aria smiled. She liked Lucas. He seemed as jaded about pretentious Rosewood bullshit as she was. And he certainly was a good friend. Aria had no idea how he was able to miss so much school to stay with Hanna, but it was nice that someone was with her.
    Aria reached out and touched Hanna’s hand, and Hanna’s fingers curled around hers. Aria pulled away, startled, then chastised herself. It wasn’t like Hanna was dead. It wasn’t like Aria had squeezed a corpse’s hand and the corpse had squeezed back.
    “Okay, I can be there this afternoon, and we can go through the candids together,” a voice said behind her. “Is