by Sara Shepard
Several kids nearby stopped and smirked. “I think I’ll pass,” Emily mumbled, scurrying forward.
She flashed her passport to the check-in girl and was given a key to her cabin, a meal card and daily menu, and a map of the boat. Last but not least, she received a pamphlet that listed the various classes, activities, seminars, group meetings, and volunteer opportunities for the week—students were required to participate in one for-credit class and volunteer in the ship’s “community,” helping to clean, cook, plan events, or take care of the ship’s enormous endangered-fish aquarium, and so on. The volunteer spots were on a first-come, first-serve basis; Emily had already signed up for lifeguard duty at the main pool. She still didn’t know which class she’d take, though, so she scanned the list quickly. There was Exploring the Reefs Responsibly, Hunt for Sunken (Eco)Treasure, Clean Up the Tide Pools in a Kayak. She decided on a course called Caribbean Bird-Watching.
She boarded an elevator that would take her to her room. A calypso band played loudly on an upper deck, the bass thudding through the walls. A few girls were talking about a great bar in St. Martin they’d heard about. Two guys chattered about kiteboarding in Puerto Rico. Everyone was dressed in shorts and flip-flops, even though it was forty-five degrees outside.
Emily envied their carefree excitement—she couldn’t even coax the corners of her lips to bend into a smile. All she could think about was her mother’s vacant eyes, her dad’s punishing scowl, the hatred in their hearts. The FBI agent on the news this morning. Gayle’s dead body. Tabitha’s face just as she realized she was falling. A lurking in the darkness, laughing, ready to hurt her for real.
She thought about Ali, too—Real Ali and Their Ali. All this time, Emily had been hiding a secret: In the Poconos, the girls had escaped the house just before it blew up, with Real Ali still inside. What the others didn’t know, however, was that Emily had left the cabin door open so that Real Ali could escape, too. She’d told everyone she’d closed it tight. And when the cops didn’t find her body, Emily was positive Real Ali had gotten out and was still alive.
For many, many months, Emily had hoped that Real Ali would come to her senses and apologize to all of them for being A. Emily would be the first one to forgive her, of course. After all, she’d loved Ali—both Alis. She’d kissed both of them, Their Ali in her tree house in seventh grade, and Real Ali last year.
But that was before Real Ali messed with her daughter. Some of the notes from A threatened Violet’s life. It was then that she realized Real Ali was beyond the pale. Real Ali didn’t care for Emily at all, and she certainly had no intention of trying to make things right. She was just … evil. Almost immediately, the hope and love Emily had felt withered away, leaving a huge hole in her heart.
The elevator dinged, and an automated voice announced that they were on the Sunshine deck. A bunch of kids marched down the long, garishly carpeted hall to find their rooms. Not wanting to get stuck behind them, Emily turned toward the sliding-glass door that led to a small patio overlooking the water instead. She stepped through it and let the chilly sea air fill her lungs.
Gulls called overhead. Traffic swished in the distance. The waves had foamy white tops, and a lifeboat bobbed seven decks below. Then Emily heard a cough and jumped. A girl with olive skin and long, chestnut-colored hair stood at the far end of the balcony. She wore dark sunglasses, a white eyelet dress, and ballet flats with pink-and-white grosgrain ribbon trim.
Emily didn’t speak at first. The girl was so ethereal and quiet that she thought she might be a ghost.
But then the girl turned and smiled. “Hey.”
“Oh!” Emily said, stepping back. “Y-you scared me. I wasn’t sure you were real.”
The corners of the girl’s mouth turned up. “Do you often see people that aren’t real?”
“Never anyone like you,” Emily blurted, and then clamped her mouth shut. Why had she just said that?
The girl raised her eyebrows, taking her sunglasses off. And then she strolled over. Up close, Emily could see the dimples on her cheeks. Her arresting green eyes sparkled, and she smelled so fragrantly of jasmine perfume that Emily felt a little light-headed.
“Maybe I am a ghost,” the girl whispered. “Or a mermaid. We are at sea, after all.”
Then she touched the tip of Emily’s nose, turned around, and disappeared through the sliding door. Emily remained in a cloud of jasmine, her mouth hanging open, the tip of her nose tingling. She wasn’t sure what had just happened, but she definitely liked it. For one fleeting second, the ghost—or mermaid, or whatever she was—had made her forget absolutely everything wrong with her life.
3
THE BEST COUPLES ALWAYS COMPROMISE
“Welcome to the Activity and Volunteer Fair!” a sandy-haired guy said to Aria Montgomery and her boyfriend, Noel Kahn, as they walked up to the ship’s casino. “Aren’t you so psyched to be here?”
“Uh, sure,” Noel said, looking at the guy warily.
“Awesome!” the guy said. Aria was almost positive she’d owned an identical version of the star-shaped sunglasses he was wearing when she was six. He stood uncomfortably close to her when he talked.
“The name’s Jeremy. I’m your cruise director for the week,” he went on. “And we’re going to have fun, fun, fun! We have the best shows on the sea—and the funniest comedian in Lou the Earth Crusader. You’ll laugh—and learn how to save the planet!” He ushered them inside. “Walk around! Make new friends! And don’t forget to choose an activity and a volunteer task!”
Aria looked around. Humming slot machines, green-felt poker and blackjack tables, and a curved, marble-topped bar stretched as far as the eye could see. But there were no liquor bottles behind the bar, no cards sitting on the tables, and when Noel pressed a button on the slot machine, a message came up that said TRY AGAIN LATER.
Noel glanced at another cruise worker, a glossy-lipped woman in a white suit. “Can we gamble?”
“Oh, yes, on casino night!” The woman had a glazed-over, Barbie-doll expression on her face. “You don’t win real money, though—you get these cute little dolphin coins you can take home as souvenirs! They’re made by tribal women in South Africa from 100 percent recycled wool!”
Noel wrinkled his nose. Aria nudged him in the ribs. “It’s probably a good thing we can’t play for money, you know. Remember that time we played blackjack and you tried to count cards? I whipped your butt.”
“You did not,” Noel said gruffly.
“Did too!”
“Well, I demand a rematch. Even if it’s for recycled dolphin tokens.” One corner of Noel’s mouth rose.
Aria smiled happily. It felt so good to be getting along with Noel again. They’d been fighting a lot recently, first because Aria was sure that Noel had a crush on his family’s exchange student, Klaudia, who luckily was having visa issues and couldn’t come on the cruise. Then Aria had discovered a secret about Noel’s father, which had led to more trouble between them. But they’d reconciled about everything, and now they were great.
They moved deeper into the casino, looking at activity booths for hiking expeditions, art walks, and mandatory for-credit classes like Convert Your Vehicle to Corn Power! Then Noel squeezed her arm.
“Are you sure it was okay that I took that lesson this morning?” he asked.
“Of course,” Aria answered in a mature voice. The ship had disembarked a few hours earlier, and Noel had almost immediately abandoned Aria to surf with an ex-pro in the wave pool. Now he smelled overpoweringly like chlorine, and his eyes were a little droopy, the way they always got when he’d had a hard workout.
“Come on,” Noel urged. “Tell the truth.”
Aria sighed. “Okay, maybe I’m a little disappointed we didn’t spend the first few hours together. Especially when the boat sailed out of the harbor. They played ‘Over the Rainbow!’ It was really cute and romantic. But we’ll have lots of time to spend together, right?”
“Of course.” Noel took
Aria’s face in his hands. “You know, I really like this new let’s-always-be-honest policy.”
“Me too,” Aria said, but then fiddled with the ties on her sailboat-printed blouse. She and Noel were really trying to stick to an honesty-is-the-best-policy rule, telling each other the truth about everything. When Aria didn’t want to watch Game of Thrones on HBO again, she said so. When Noel really, really wanted McDonald’s drive-thru instead of another dinner at Aria’s favorite vegan restaurant, he made it clear.
It was liberating, but Aria also felt like a fraud because she still hadn’t told him her big secrets, like what had happened in Iceland last summer—only one person knew about that. He didn’t know that there was a new A in town, either, or that she and her friends had done something terrible in Jamaica.
Worse, now that Tabitha’s death had been deemed a murder, Noel was suddenly interested in the story. While the two of them were hanging out at his house a few days earlier, a CNN report about Tabitha had popped on the screen. Noel had paused and squinted at Tabitha’s picture. “She looks really familiar,” he’d murmured.
Aria had quickly changed the channel, but she could feel Noel’s mind working. He’d taken note of Tabitha while in Jamaica. When would he make the connection? Once he did, he’d likely tell the police everything he remembered about her from the trip. He’d tell them that Aria had been with him in Jamaica, too, and then the police would ask her questions.
On the phone with the girls, she’d mentioned an idea that had been brewing in her mind all week: turning herself in. On one hand, it would be a huge relief—she wouldn’t have to hide anymore. On the other, her life would be over. Did she really want that?
Aria had hoped to use the time on this cruise to really figure out what she wanted to do, but she worried about the police investigation. What if the cops figured it out before she’d decided? What if A gave them a clue they didn’t even know A had yet? Aria would rather the confession be on her terms, her decision, but it felt like she was running out of time.
Now they passed a bunch of booths offering sign-ups for short-fiction workshops, pottery classes, and an ecotour sponsored by Greenpeace. Then Aria spied a sign that said SCAVENGER HUNT! Next to it were pictures of kids looking at clues, riding down zip-lines, and trekking through the rain forest. EXPLORE THE ISLANDS! a sign read. MAKE AN ENVIRONMENTAL DIFFERENCE! WIN BIG PRIZES!
“Cool.” Aria grabbed a flyer.
A pudgy strawberry-blonde with a name tag that said GRETCHEN stepped forward, a big smile on her freckly face. “Interested?” she asked. “We give you clues that send you all around the three islands. There’s some research involved, so it would meet your for-credit class requirement. It’ll be a lot of fun, too.”
“That sounds great.” Aria could easily imagine hunting for clues and exploring the islands with Noel. But when she looked at Noel for his opinion, he was talking to a tall guy with sunburned cheeks at another table. BECOME A CHAMPION SURFER IN SEVEN DAYS, read a banner over Sunburned Guy’s head. Amazingly, it was a for-credit class, too, the cruise ship’s version of PE.
“Dude, sign me up,” Noel said excitedly, grabbing a pen from a cup with a surfer on the front.
“Noel, wait.” Aria caught his arm. “Doesn’t this look like it could be fun for both of us?” She pointed to the scavenger hunt sign.
Noel frowned. “Let’s surf instead.”
Aria turned to Sunburned Guy, who was presumably the instructor. “Is it okay that I’m not a strong swimmer?”
He wrinkled his freckled nose. “Can you do the crawl?”
“I can dog-paddle,” she said optimistically. She had never technically learned how to swim—there were so many other more interesting activities she’d wanted to try out when she was little instead. Cliff-diving in Jamaica had terrified her half to death. She’d always made Emily stay very close to where she landed so she could rescue her if she needed it.
The instructor looked skeptical. “Surfers need to be able to paddle through some pretty tough waves. I don’t think you’d be able to handle it.”
Noel looked crushed. Aria smiled at him. “Take the surf lessons anyway.”
“No!” he said quickly.
“It’s okay.” Aria squeezed his hands. “Who cares if we don’t do the same activity? We could do the same volunteer job, maybe. Or hang out at other times.”
“Are you sure?” Noel’s voice wavered.
“Absolutely.” Aria kissed his nose. “I want us both to be happy.”
Noel wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. “You’re the sweetest person in the world.”
He put her down, and for a moment, Aria did feel pretty sweet. But then the back of her neck prickled, and she sensed someone’s presence behind her. She peered through the crowd of kids, the activity booths, and the blinking slot machines. There was a big banner over an empty table that read PROTECT THE SEAS. SAVE THE PLANET. LIVE LIFE TO THE FULLEST. A shadow moved behind it, and then a door marked STAFF ONLY eased shut. Aria’s heart jumped, and she stared hard at the door, willing whoever it was to return.
The door remained shut. And yet, drifting over the sound of the slot machines, the whoops of the activity leaders, and the chattering of all of the kids stuffed into the room, there was a thin, eerie laugh. Aria’s heart dropped to her feet. Whenever she heard that laugh, whether by coincidence or not, someone was always close.
A.
4
HELLO, ROOMIE!
Later that night, Hanna Marin sat with her boyfriend, Mike Montgomery, in a plush booth at Café Moonlight, an al fresco restaurant on the top deck of the boat. Bright, twinkling stars served as the ceiling, and a light, salty-smelling breeze occasionally blew out the candles on the tables. Waiters dashed to and fro delivering big salads featuring organic vegetables, jerk-seasoned free-range chicken, and the best organic sweet-potato fries Hanna had ever tasted. A reggae band played a Bob Marley song, the musicians dressed up in tropical-print garb.
When the song ended, the cruise director, whom Hanna had started calling “Creepy Jeremy” because of how close he stood to people when he spoke and the weird smile that seemed to be tattooed across his face, grabbed the microphone. “These guys are amazing, huh? But if you think you’re better, show off your skills at the America’s Got Talent extravaganza on Sunday night! Start working on your act now, guys! First prize is a Vespa scooter!”
Mike crossed his arms over his chest. “Noel and I are going to do a hip-hop act.”
Hanna gave him a crazy look. “You’re actually going to participate in the talent show?”
Mike shrugged. “Didn’t you hear him? First prize is a Vespa. And Noel and I put together some sick rhymes in Jamaica.”
Hanna nearly choked on a fry. The last thing she wanted to do was reminisce about Jamaica. But everything today had reminded her of that awful trip: The artificial strawberry smell of someone’s spray-on sunscreen, the brand of orange drink sold in one of the cafés, a boy’s T-shirt that said JAMAICAN ME CRAZY! There was a Jamaican-themed party planned for two days from now, which didn’t even make sense since they weren’t going to Jamaica on this cruise.
She grabbed another fry and stuffed it into her mouth, resolving not to think about Jamaica on this trip—or any of the other shitty things that had happened. Like the fact that she’d recently witnessed a murder. And, oh yeah, that she was the intended target. Or that the cops were this close to figuring out what they did to Tabitha. What would happen when they did? Her family would be disgraced, of course. Her dad’s senatorial campaign would be ruined. Hanna would have a long life in prison to look forward to.
James Freed, a friend of Mike’s, appeared at their table. “Dude.” He sank into a seat. “Did you hear about the Catholic girls’ school that’s here? They are H-O-T.” He whispered the letters dramatically. “Apparently they’re dying for some.”
“Hello, James?” Hanna leveled a stare at him, reminding him she was Mike’s girlfriend.
James looked at Hanna apathetically. “Hey.” Then he turned back to Mike. “Some of the beaches in St. Martin allow nudity. Wanna help convince the Catholic girls to take a little trek with us?”
“Definitely.” Mike practically began to drool.
Hanna pinched his arm. “Like hell you will!”
“Just kidding,” Mike said quickly, then leaned toward her. “Unless you want to make it a threesome.”
Hanna pinched him again. Then she flicked a lock of auburn hair over her shoulder and peered at James. “What Catholic school are you talking about?”
Again, James looked at Hanna like she was one of the pesky horseflies that had buzzed around them during the ship’s departure. “I don’t know. Villa … something.”
“Villa Louisa?” Hanna spat.
“I think that’s it.” James squinted at her. “Why, are you thinking of stalking them?”
Hanna pressed her nails into the heel of her hand. “Very funny.” Two weeks ago, she’d won Mike away from what she now called his “mistake,” Colleen Bebris, despite the fact that A had sent the entire school an embarrassing video montage of Hanna trying to dig up something naughty about Colleen by stalking her. Though Mike seemed to have forgotten the video, no one else had. Girls from Rosewood Day and some of the other private schools nudged each other and giggled at her as she’d boarded this morning. When she’d tried to take a spin class this afternoon, a not-even-that-cute-or-thin girl from the Quaker school had quickly set her water bottle on a free bike, saying it was saved. Hanna felt like she had a big sign on her back that said LOSER and just didn’t know about it.
Hanna knew of the Villa Louisa girls, but she didn’t know any personally. People from other schools called them Villa Gorillas. They pranced around the King James Mall wearing their plaid jumpers and naughty-girl kneesocks like they were sooo sexy, making eyes at every available (and unavailable) guy. Every Gorilla was thinner and blonder and more beautiful than the next, and the rumor was that they were all incredibly sexually talented. A lot of people had theories as to why: The holy water the nuns blessed them with actually contained an ancient aphrodisiac. Their uniforms were too tight in all the right places. They all had über-strict parents who forbade them to speak to any boy, anytime, and they were dying for male interaction. Apparently, Kate, Hanna’s stepsister, knew a few girls from the school, but Kate had decided to stay home to do a community service project with her boyfriend, Sean Ackard, instead of going on the cruise.