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tried to remain friends, going to Iceland together because Noel had already bought the tickets. But by the end of that summer, there were just too many bad memories and secrets between them. These days, Hanna tried not to think about her old friends at all. It was easier that way.
    A short guy in thick geek-chic glasses, a pink pinstriped shirt, and gray pants clapped his hands, startling Hanna and Mike. “Okay, Tom, we’re ready for you.” It was Jeremiah, Mr. Marin’s number-one campaign advisor—or, as Hanna liked to call him, his bitch boy. Jeremiah was by her dad’s side at all hours of the day, doing whatever was needed. Hanna was tempted to make a whip-cracking noise whenever he was around.
    Jeremiah bustled about, positioning Hanna’s father in front of the blue screen. “We’ll do a few voiceovers of you talking about how you’re the future of Pennsylvania,” he said in a girlish nasal voice. When he ducked his head, Hanna could see the growing bald spot on his crown. “Be sure to talk about all the good community work you’ve done in the past. And definitely mention your pledge to end teenage drinking.”
    “Absolutely,” Mr. Marin said in a presidential tone.
    Hanna and Mike exchanged a look and struggled not to laugh. Ironically, Mr. Marin’s cause célèbre was abolishing teenage drinking. Couldn’t he have focused on something that didn’t have a direct impact on Hanna’s life? Darfur, maybe? Better treatment for Wal-Mart employees? What fun would a party be without a keg?
    Mr. Marin ran through his lines, sounding robust, trustworthy, and vote-for-me chipper. Isabel and Kate grinned and nudged one another proudly, which made Hanna want to puke. Mike gave his opinion by belching loudly during one of the takes. Hanna adored him for it.
    Next, Jeremiah guided Mr. Marin toward the American flag background. “Now let’s do the family segment. We’ll splice this into the end of the commercial—everyone will see what a good family man you are. And what a gorgeous family you have.” He paused to wink at Isabel and Kate, who tittered faux-bashfully.
    Family man my ass , Hanna thought. Funny how no one had mentioned that Tom Marin had divorced, moved to Maryland, and forgotten his old wife and daughter for three long years. Interesting, too, that no one had brought up that her dad moved himself, Kate, and Isabel into Hanna’s house last year while Hanna’s mother took a job overseas, nearly ruining Hanna’s life. Thankfully, they’d been kicked out after Hanna’s mother returned from Singapore, finding a McMansion in Devon that wasn’t nearly as cool as Hanna’s house on top of Mt. Kale. But their presence still lingered: Hanna still got whiffs of Kate’s Fig and Cassis perfume when she walked down the hall or sank into the couch.
    “Okay, family!” The director, a long-haired Spaniard named Sergio, flicked the lights. “Everyone against the flag! Get ready with your lines!”
    Kate and Isabel obediently walked into the hot spotlights and posed next to Mr. Marin. Mike poked Hanna’s side. “ Go! ”
    Hanna hesitated. It wasn’t that she didn’t want to be in front of a camera—she’d always fantasized about becoming a famous anchorwoman or a runway model—but she didn’t want to be in a commercial with her stepsister like they were a big happy family.
    Mike poked her again. “Hanna, go .”
    “Fine.” Hanna groaned, sliding off the table and stomping toward the set.
    Several of the directors’ assistants turned and stared at her confusedly. “Who are you ?” Sergio asked, sounding like the hookah-smoking caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland.
    Hanna laughed uncomfortably. “Uh, I’m Hanna Marin. Tom’s biological daughter.”
    Sergio scratched his mop of long curls. “The only family members on my call sheet are Isabel and Kate Randall.”
    There was a long pause. Several of the assistants exchanged uncomfortable glances. Kate’s smile broadened.
    “Dad?” Hanna turned