Six: Charity Isn't So Sweet.

That same Wednesday afternoon, Hanna stood at the entrance of the Rosewood YMCA, a restored, Colonial-style mansion. The facade was redbrick, it had two-story-high white pillars, and the moldings around the eaves and the windows looked like they belonged on a gingerbread house. The Briggses, a legendary eccentric, wealthy family, built the place in 1886, populating it with ten Briggs family members, three live-in guests, two parrots, and twelve standard poodles. Most of the building's historical details had been torn down to make way for the Y's six-lane swimming pool, fitness center, and "meeting" rooms. Hanna wondered what the Briggses would think about some of the groups that now met in their mansion. Like the Virginity Club.

Hanna threw her shoulders back and walked down the slanted wood hall to room 204, where V Club was meeting. Sean still wasn't returning her calls. All she wanted to say was that she was sorry, God. How were they supposed to get back together if she couldn't apologize to him. The one place she knew Sean went—and Sean thought she'd never be—was Virginity Club.

So maybe it was a violation of Sean's personal space, but it was for a worthy cause. She missed Sean, especially with everything that was happening with A.

"Hanna?"

Hanna whirled around. Naomi Zeigler was on an elliptical trainer in the exercise room. She was dressed in dark red Adidas terry-cloth short-shorts, a tight-fitting pink sports bra, and matching pink socks. A coordinated red hair tie held her perfect blond ponytail in place.

Hanna fake-smiled, but inside she was wincing. Naomi and her best friend, Riley Wolfe, hated Hanna and Mona. Last spring, Naomi stole Mona's crush, Jason Ryder, and then dumped him two weeks later. At last year's prom, Riley learned that Hanna was wearing a sea-foam-green Calvin Klein dress…and bought the exact same dress, except in lipstick red.

"What are you doing here?" Naomi yelled. still cycling. Hanna noticed that elliptical's LED screen said Naomi had burned 876 calories. Bitch.

"I'm just meeting someone," Hanna mumbled. She pressed her hand against room 204's door, trying to seem casual, only she didn't realize the door was ajar. It tipped open, and Hanna lost her balance and toppled halfway over. Everyone inside turned to look at her.

"Yoo-hoo?" A woman in a hideous plaid knockoff Burberry jacket called. She stuck her head out the door and noticed Hanna. "Are you here for the meeting?"

"Uh," Hanna sputtered. When she glanced back at the elliptical, Naomi was gone.

"Don't be afraid." Hanna didn't know what else to do, so she followed the woman inside and took a seat.

The room was wood-paneled, dark, and airless. Kids sat on high-backed wooden chairs. Most of them looked normal, if a bit on the goody-goody side. The boys were either too pudgy or too scrawny. She didn't recognize anyone from Rosewood Day except for Sean. He was sitting across the room next to two wholesome-looking blond girls, staring at Hanna in alarm. She gave him a wave, but he didn't react.

"I'm Candace," the woman who'd come to the door said. "And you are…"

"Hanna. Hanna Marin."

"Well! Welcome, Hanna," Candace said. She was in her mid-forties, had short blondish hair, and had drowned herself in Chloe Narcisse perfume—ironic, since Hanna hd spritzed herself with Narcisse last Friday night, when she was supposed to do it with Sean. "What brings you here?"

Hanna paused. "I guess I've come to…to hear more about it."

"Well, the first thing I want you to know is, this is a safe space." Candace curled her hands around the back of a blond girl's chair. "Whatever you tell us is in the strictest confidence, so feel free to say anything. But you have to promise not to repeat anything anyone else says, too."

"Oh, I promise," Hanna said quickly. "There was no way she'd repeat what anyone said. That would mean telling someone she'd come here in the first place.

"Is there anything you'd like to know?" Candace asked.

"Well, um, I'm not sure," Hanna stuttered.

"Is there anything you'd like to say?"

Hanna sneaked a peek at Sean. He gave her a look that seemed to say, Yes, what would you like to say?

She straightened up."I've been thinking a lot about sex. Um, I mean, I was really curious about it. But now…I don't know." She took a deep breath and tried to imagine what Sean would want to hear. "I think it should be with the right person."

"The right person you love," Candace corrected. "And marry."

"Yes," Hanna added quickly.

"It's hard, though." Candace strolled around the room. "Does anyone have any thoughts for Hanna? Any experiences they want to share?"

A blond boy in camo cargo pants who was almost cute—if you squinted—raised his hand, then changed his mind and put it down. A brown-haired girl who wore a pink Dubble Bubble T-shirt raised two tentative fingers in the air and said, "I thought a lot about sex, too. My boyfriend threatened to break up with me if I wouldn't do it. For a while, I was considering giving in, but I'm glad I didn't."

Hanna nodded, trying to look thoughtful. Who were these people kidding? She wondered if they were secretly dying to get some.

"Sean, how about you?" Candace asked. "You were saying last week that you and your girlfriend had differing opinions about sex. How's that going?"

Hanna felt heat rise to her cheeks. She. Could. Not. Believe. It.

"Fine," Sean mumbled.

"Are you sure? Did you have a talk with her, like we discussed?"

"Yes," Sean said curtly.

A long silence followed. Hanna wondered if they knew that "her" was…her.

Candace went around the room asking the others to speak about their temptations: Had anyone gotten horizontal with a boyfriend or girlfriend? Had anyone made out? Had anyone watched Skinamax? Yes, yes, yes! Hanna ticked off in her head—even though she knew they were all V Club no-no's.

A few other kids asked sex questions—most were trying to figure out what counted as "a sexual experience," and what they should avoid. "All of it," Candace deadpanned. Hanna was flabbergasted—she'd figured V Club banned intercourse, but not the whole sexual menu. Finally, the meeting adjourned, and the V Club kids got out of their chairs to stretch. Cans of soda, paper cups, a plate of Ores, and a bag of Terra Yukon Golds were on a table off to the side. Hanna stood up, slid the straps of her purple wedges back around her ankles, and stretched her arms in the air. She couldn't help but notice that Sean was staring at her exposed abs. She gave him a flirty smile, then walked over.

"Hey," she said.

"Hanna…" He ran his hand through his close-cropped hair, looking uncomfortable. When he cut it last spring, Hanna said it made him look a little like Justin Timberlake, only less skanky. In response, Sean had done an awful but also cute rendition of "Cry Me a River." That was back when he was fun. "What are you doing?" he asked.

She fluttered her hand to her throat. "What do you mean?"

"I just…I don't know if you should be here."

"Why?" she fumed. "I have every right to be here, just like everyone. I just wanted to apologize, all right? I've been trying to chase you down in school, but you keep running away from me."

"Well, it's complicated, Hanna," Sean said.

Hanna was about to ask what was so complicated when Candace put her hands on both their shoulders. "I see you two know each other!"

"That's right," Hanna chirped, momentarily burying her irritation.

"We're so happy to have you, Hanna." Candace beamed. "You'd be a very positive role model for us."

"Thanks." Hanna felt a little thrill. Even if it was V Club, she wasn't often embraced like this. Not by her third-grade tennis coach, not by her friends, not by her teachers, certainly not by her parents. Perhaps V Club was her calling. She pictured herself as the spokeswoman of V Club. Maybe it was like being Miss America, except instead of a crown, she'd get a fabulous V Club ring. Or maybe a V Club bag. A cherry-monogrammed Louis Vuitton clutch with a hand-painted V.

"So, do you think you'll join us next week?" Candace asked.

Hanna looked at Sean. "Probably."

"Wonderful!" Candace cried.

She left Hanna and Sean alone again. Hanna sucked in her stomach, wishing she hadn't hogged down a Good Humor chocolate eclair bar she'd impetuously bought from the Y's ice cream truck before the meeting. "So, you talked about me here, huh?"

Sean shut his eyes. "I'm sorry she mentioned that."

"No, it's all right," Hanna interrupted. "I didn't realize how much all this…meant to you. And I really like some of the stuff they were saying. About, um, the person being someone you love. I'm all for that. And everyone seems really sweet." She felt surprised the words were coming out of her mouth. She actually kind of meant them.

Sean shrugged. "Yeah, it's okay."

Hanna frowned, surprised by his apathy. Then she sighed and raised her eyes. "Sean, I'm really sorry about what happened. About…about the car. I just…I don't really know how to apologize. I just feel so stupid. But I can't deal with you hating me."

Sean was quiet. "I don't hate you. Things came out kind of harsh Friday. I think we were both in weird places. I mean, I don't think you should've done what you did, but…" He shrugged. "You're volunteering at the clinic, right?"

"Uh-huh." She hoped her nose didn't wrinkle up in disgust.

He nodded a few times. "I think that's really good. I'm sure you'll brighten the patients' day."

Hanna felt her cheeks flush with gratitude, but his sweetness didn't surprise her. Sean was a textbook good,compassionate guy—he gave money to homeless people in Philly, recycled his old cell phones, and never badmouthed anyone, even celebrities who existed to be made fun of. It had been one of the reasons she'd fist come to love Sean back in sixth grade when she still was a chubby loser.

But just last week, Sean had been hers. She'd come a long way from being a loserish girl who did Ali's gossipy dirty work, and she couldn't let a little drunken error in judgment at a field party ruin their relationship. Although…there was something—or someone—else that might ruin their relationship.

I can RUIN you.

"Sean?" Hanna's heart pounded. "Have you gotten any weird texts about me?"

"Texts? Sean repeated. He cocked his head. "No…"

Hanna bit her fingernail. "If you do," she said, "don't believe them."

"All right." Sean smiled at her. Hanna felt electric.

"So," she said after pause. "Are you still going to Foxy?"

Sean looked away. "I guess. Probably with a bunch of guys or whatever."

"Save me a dance," she purred, and squeezed his hand. She loved the way his hands felt—solid, warm, and masculine. It made her so happy to touch him that maybe she could give up sex until marriage. She and Sean would stay constantly vertical, cover their eyes at sex scenes, and avoid Victoria's Secret in the mall. If that was what it took to be with the only boy she'd ever kind of, well, loved, then maybe Hanna could make that sacrifice.

Or maybe, if the way Sean was eyeing her midriff again was any indication, she could talk him out of it.