by Sara Shepard
She ran to the end of the hall, desperate to catch her breath. Then she noticed a French door that led to a small, open-air courtyard. She slid it open and staggered to a shuffleboard court, leaning over onto her knees.
Madison was Naomi’s cousin. And what did Naomi mean when she said she didn’t need the ID anymore? Was she dead?
Beep.
It was Hanna’s phone. She pulled it out of her purse, figuring it was Mike. But then she looked at the screen. One new text message from Anonymous.
“No,” she whispered, scanning the dark courtyard. Then she looked down at the screen. With shaking fingers, she pressed READ.
Be careful who you hit and run, jailbird. See you on the Fiesta Deck!—A
9
PRETTY LITTLE STOWAWAY
Tuesday evening, Emily and Jordan sat on the bed in Emily’s room. Empty potato chip wrappers from the vending machines were strewn around them, and Jordan had made them virgin banana daiquiris from some drinks she’d found in the mini bar. One of Emily’s swimming mixes was playing through her portable iPod speakers, and Discovery, the only channel that had a signal besides CNN International—which Jordan said she hated—was airing a show about Yosemite Park in the background, though neither girl was watching it.
“Okay, I need a verb,” Emily said, staring down at a book of Mad Libs she’d found at the bottom of her bag, left there from an overnight swimming trip.
“Um, kissed,” Jordan said after a moment, popping a chip into her mouth.
Emily wrote kissed into the space. “Next I need a noun.”
“Boobs,” Jordan said quickly.
Emily laid down her pen and looked at the other words Jordan had chosen. Sexily, tongue, humping, and sensual massage. “You realize this is a kid’s game, right? Not a porno?”
“What can I say?” Jordan snickered. “I’m inspired by the spirit of Erin Bang Bang. Even I’ve heard rumors about how many guys she’s been with.”
Emily shuddered. “Every time I see her, she’s with someone different.”
Jordan glanced at the door. “Are you sure she’s not going to mind me staying here?”
Emily shrugged. “I doubt Erin’s going to be back for the rest of the trip, to be honest. And if she does come in, we’ll just say you had a fight with your roommate. You can even sleep in my bed if it makes you feel more comfortable.” Her cheeks reddened a little at the suggestion, but surely Jordan knew she meant it in a friendly way, right?
Jordan gave Emily a relieved smile. “You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”
Emily rolled her eyes. “You’ve only told me that a zillion times.” Then she stared back down at Mad Libs. “Okay, I need an adverb.”
“Lustily,” Jordan spouted quickly, and they both dissolved into laughter.
After Emily penned it in, she breathed in the sudden scent of freshly popped microwave popcorn. Someone must have made some in the kitchen at the end of the hall. “That’s one of my favorite smells,” she mused.
“Mine too,” Jordan said, clutching a pillow. “You got any others?”
Emily thought for a moment. “Rubber balls and gasoline, I guess. And the smell of my old best friend’s bedroom.”
“Alison’s?” Jordan asked.
Emily nodded. She’d told Jordan about Ali almost immediately. It was one of those things she just had to get out of the way when she made new friends these days—everyone had seen Pretty Little Killer, the docudrama about what Ali did to them, anyway. “I used to sneak into her bedroom during sleepovers,” she admitted, blushing. “Her room smelled like flowers and powder and just … her.”
“You really loved her, huh?”
Emily cast her eyes downward. That was something else she’d admitted to Jordan right away: There was no use in hiding her attraction to girls anymore. It was easy to tell Jordan things, though—she was so accepting of everything that came out of Emily’s mouth. She’d just smiled faintly and said that was fine with her.
She cleared her throat and looked up at Jordan. “I meant to ask you. Do you need to call your parents? I have a phone card you can borrow. They’re probably wondering where you are, right?”
Jordan shrugged. “I said I was staying at a friend’s house for a while. They won’t check up on me.”
“Are you sure? For a whole week?”
“They probably don’t even notice I’m gone.” Jordan fiddled with her velvet headband. “My parents are way more concerned with their own lives. They don’t really have time for me. Add in the fact that I’m not the perfect daughter they always wanted, and they’d probably rather I was just gone for good.” She said it nonchalantly, finishing with a sarcastic laugh, but the pain was obvious in her voice.
Emily drew a squiggle in the margin. “Sometimes I think my parents want me to disappear, too.”
Jordan looked up at her, clearly waiting for Emily to say more. “I’ve done some stuff to make them really mad,” Emily said vaguely. Even though she’d shared a lot, she wasn’t ready to get into that.
But suddenly, Jordan’s face had moved closer. The air smelled heavily of jasmine perfume. “I don’t know why anyone would want you to disappear,” she blurted. “No matter what you did.”
Emily held her breath, noticing for the first time that Jordan’s eyes were the color of tourmaline gemstones. Then her cell phone let out a few sharp bleeps. She groaned, rolled over, and looked at the screen. Hanna had sent a text.
A is on the boat. Meet me near the tiki bar now.
Emily turned the phone over so Jordan couldn’t see the message. “I-I’ll be back,” she whispered, and was through the door before Jordan could ask what had just happened.
Ten minutes later, Emily stood at the tiki bar, a steady rain pelting the awning above her head. Naturally, the deck was empty. Somewhere down below, she could hear the strains of New Age music from a late Cirque du Soleil performance in the theater.
The elevator doors opened, and Spencer and Aria walked out. They spied her and jogged over, shielding their heads from the rain.
Hanna emerged up a staircase wearing a long sundress, high heels, and an incongruous oversized white hoodie that stretched to her mid thighs. Her eyes were wild, her face was pale, and she held her phone tightly in her right hand. “The bitch somehow made it on board with us,” she snapped when they approached.
She thrust the phone at the girls. Emily stared at the text message on the screen. Be careful who you hit and run, jailbird. See you on the Fiesta Deck!
Aria squinted at the note. “Hit and run? What is A talking about?”
“Isn’t it obvious?” Hanna said. “The accident on Reeds Lane? That horrible night in the rain? A knows.”
Emily’s mouth dropped open. The night of Hanna’s accident felt so far removed—it had happened at the beginning of the summer, before anything else. She’d found out she was pregnant just after spring break in Jamaica, and though she’d still been living at home when Hanna had called, she was moving in with Carolyn the following week, much to her sister’s chagrin. When Hanna called Emily, she had almost declined—she had a little belly bulge at the time, and what if the other girls guessed what was going on? It was hard enough to hide it from her parents. Her mother had even commented on Emily’s new billowy-shirt style.
But a split second later, she’d felt terrible. Hanna needed her. And then Aria had called, saying she’d swing by and pick her up, and Emily didn’t know how to say no. In the end, if any of them noticed her belly, no one said anything. They were all too preoccupied with the car crash.
Emily leaned against the bar. “How does A know about that?” she asked, looking at Hanna. They’d been on such a desolate stretch of road, and they’d driven away before the ambulance had arrived. But then more of the night came back to her. They’d possibly hurt the girl. And then they’d run, like it was a prank.
Hanna fiddled with a large, carved tiki-head candle on top of one of the tables. “I’m not sure. But you know that girl in the car, M
adison? It turns out she’s Naomi Zeigler’s cousin. Naomi and I have been getting along, and at first I thought it seemed suspicious, but then I figured she’d turned over a new leaf. Until I saw her fake ID—it’s Madison’s picture.”
Aria’s brow furrowed. “So you think Naomi was being nice to you because she’s A?”
“I’m not sure,” Hanna said. “But if she’s not, A is going to tell her about the crash. Naomi will turn us in for sure.”
“Yeah, if A doesn’t turn us in first.” Spencer pointed at Hanna’s phone. “A called you jailbird.”
“Hanna, did Naomi say anything about the accident?” Aria asked.
“Sort of,” Hanna admitted, looking at Spencer. “She mentioned going through some terrible stuff last summer. And she got this weird look on her face when someone asked her who it was on her fake ID. She was like, My cousin doesn’t need her ID anymore.”
“Like she was dead?” Spencer gasped.
Emily’s eyes widened. “In the crash?”
“She couldn’t have died in the crash.” Hanna’s eyes darted back and forth. “She was still breathing when you guys got to the scene.”
“Was she?” Aria squinted. “Did anyone actually check?”
Emily looked around at the others. “I don’t remember if we did or not.”
“I don’t, either,” Aria said.
Spencer’s face was green. “What if we killed her when we moved her?” She slumped against one of the metal posts that propped up the awning. “I dropped her.”
“Don’t jump to conclusions yet, Spence,” Aria said quickly, though she looked just as sick.
“How do you think A knows about that?” Emily asked.
Hanna shrugged. “If A is Naomi, she could have seen the accident from her house. It is just over the hill from the crash, not that I’d ever made that connection.”
“Or maybe Madison lived, and she saw the girl playing you in Pretty Little Killer and figured it out,” Aria piped up.
“No, Madison would’ve had to figure it out before that,” Hanna insisted. “If Naomi is A, she must have known almost immediately—and decided to stalk all of us. That could be how she found out about Gayle and Kelsey.”
Emily nodded, considering this. She had spent time at Gayle’s house that summer, and Gayle had offered to buy Emily’s baby in a café. If Naomi had been following her, it would have been easy for her to figure out what was going on.
Aria ran her hands down the length of her face. “I’m not sure Naomi makes sense as A, though. How could she know about all the other secrets A knows? Like Jamaica—that happened before the thing with Madison.”
“Well, it’s easy to explain how she knew about what happened to us in the summer—Naomi lives in Rosewood.” Hanna’s eyes were wide. “She’s friends with Kate—she’s been at my house hundreds of times. She definitely could have dug up tons of dirt on me like that.” She snapped her fingers.
Spencer bit her lip. “Actually, Naomi was around a lot when A was threatening me about Kelsey, too. She was one of the witches in Macbeth.”
“And she latched onto Klaudia—a lot of my A notes were about her for a while,” Aria added thoughtfully. “And she was at Noel’s when I got a message from A about his family.”
Everyone looked at Emily, waiting for her to contribute her own Naomi story. She just shrugged. “I haven’t had any interaction with her.”
“She was at Gayle’s funeral, remember?” Hanna pointed out. “Don’t you think that’s weird?”
Emily stared at the flag flapping on the pole overhead. She wasn’t sure if it was weird or not. “A lot of people live in Rosewood, though—someone else could have been watching us. And Jamaica still doesn’t make sense,” she whispered. “Naomi wasn’t there—we would have seen her. How could she know about that?”
“There’s got to be a connection,” Hanna said. “Maybe she was there and we didn’t know it.”
Spencer’s fingers flew on her phone. “Nope, Naomi was in St. Bart’s for spring break—it says so on her Facebook page.”
“Okay, maybe there are two As—one who saw what happened in Jamaica, and then Naomi, who’s carrying out all the evil deeds,” Hanna suggested.
Spencer squeezed her eyes shut. “God. My head is going to explode. Now we have to think about who a second A could be?”
Emily breathed in. “I think I have an idea.”
Hanna looked at her sharply. “Let me guess. Real Ali?”
“Yeah, Ali,” Emily said in a small voice. If Jordan had snuck aboard so easily and effortlessly, who was to say Real Ali couldn’t have done the same thing?
She glanced over her shoulder, terrified that Real Ali was watching them. A bolt of lightning flickered at sea. Puddles glistened under the lights. The idea of coming face-to-face with Real Ali on a boat terrified her. There were only so many places she could hide.
“Real Ali is dead,” Spencer said dismissively. “It’s got to be someone else.”
Aria cleared her throat. “Something weird happened to me today, too.” She took a deep breath. “You know how I signed up for that scavenger hunt? I got partnered with this guy who’d recently transferred from a school in New Jersey. We talked for a while, and I found out he knew Tabitha.”
“You’re kidding,” Hanna said worriedly.
Aria nodded. “It gets worse, though. He used to be Tabitha’s boyfriend.”
“What?” Hanna shrieked.
“Are you serious?” Spencer gasped.
“I know.” Aria looked tormented. “I think the universe is out to get us.”
“Or A is out to get us,” Spencer said. “Couldn’t he be A? He has a better motive than Naomi—or Real Ali. Maybe more of a connection, too—he could have been in Jamaica with Tabitha.”
Aria rocked from foot to foot. “I don’t know about Jamaica, but I doubt it. And Graham said he was in Chile last summer—how could he have witnessed our secrets, or stolen that money from Gayle’s mailbox? I could probably get him to prove it somehow the next time I see him.”
Spencer’s eyes boggled. “You can’t see him again! What if you slip and say something?” Then she blinked hard. “And does this mean that more people who knew Tabitha are on the boat, too? She could have tons of friends here—they could all be A, together!”
Aria shook her head. “No, no, Graham transferred from Tabitha’s school to a school in Philly. None of her friends are here.”
“Still I agree with Spencer,” Hanna said. “Stay away from that guy. It sounds like a situation you don’t need right now.”
Aria looked annoyed. “I can’t just drop him. I’d feel terrible.”
“Why?” Spencer demanded.
Aria stared at her fingers. “Do you guys really think we’re going to get away with this in the end? This might be my last chance to make things right with someone who cared about her before I go to jail.”
Spencer looked at her crazily. “Are you going to tell him?”
“No. But I feel I owe him something. I want to make his life better somehow.”
“You don’t owe him anything!” Spencer roared. “The only reason you feel that way is because A is screwing with your mind!”
“Well, that’s a good reason, isn’t it?” Aria shrugged helplessly. “A totally has us cornered! I don’t know what else to do!”
Everyone shut their eyes. A huge rush of dread swept through Emily. A did have them cornered. What if A turned them in for everything? They’d done so much, especially if Madison had died. And A seemed to know absolutely everything.
Spencer cleared her throat. “Look. If we figure out who A is, we can nail Gayle’s murder to him or her and protect ourselves.” She looked at Hanna. “You’re Naomi’s roommate. Search through her stuff. See if she has a second phone, like Mona did. Or break into her e-mail and see if any of the A notes are in her sent box.”
Hanna bit a fingernail. “You really want me to get that close to A’s stuff? Haven’t you forgotten the other th
ings A has done? Like with Gayle? Or what about how she laced your brownies with LSD?”
“But—” Spencer protested, then froze. A footstep on a loose plank squeaked across the deck. Spencer grabbed Emily’s arm. Emily squinted hard through the shadows, terrified of what might be there. The scent of fruity perfume wafted through the air toward her, then vanished. For a few moments, all she could hear was her heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Hanna’s phone chimed, and everyone jumped. “It’s just Mike,” Hanna said, checking the screen. “He’s sneaking me into his room for the night.”
“You’re staying with Mike?” Aria looked worried. “You guys could both get in trouble.”
“I’d rather get in trouble than get killed,” Hanna said, then hurried away, looking back and forth into the shadows before descending the stairs.
After a moment, Spencer peered at the others, let out a despairing moan, then walked off, too. Only Aria and Emily remained. They stepped out from under the awning and exchanged a terrified glance.
“Tell me this isn’t happening,” Emily whispered.
Aria wiped raindrops out of her eyes. “I can’t live like this much longer, Em.”
“I know. Neither can I.”
Another bolt of lightning snapped at sea. Emily stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Aria’s shoulders. Aria squeezed back, and the two of them remained that way for a few seconds, shielding each other from the elements.
And maybe from A, too.
10
DIVING RIGHT IN
On Wednesday morning, Spencer stood on the docks of St. Martin. The cruise ship, which had pulled into the island at sunrise, sat in the harbor among much smaller speedboats and ferries, looking a little like an eighteen-year-old in a classroom of first-graders. The sky was a pinkish-gray, the air smelled like sun-baked pavement, and shopkeepers lifted the metal grates of their jewelry stores and placed plaques in the windows that read DIAMOND SALE! and BEST PRICES ON THE ISLAND!
About twenty or so kids from the diving class were on the dock, too, struggling into rash guards and picking through the rented diving equipment. Kirsten slathered sunscreen on her arms, then offered the tube to Spencer. “Are you really thinking of diving away from the group?”