Burned (13 page)

“Maybe she’s into virgins,” Naomi snickered. “I heard she’s going to V Club with him now.”

“Actually, I—” Hanna was about to say she’d seen Kate and Sean leave a V Club meeting a few weeks ago but stopped herself just in time. She’d been with Liam when she caught Kate and Sean at the V Club meeting.

Then again, if Naomi was A, she would know that, too.

Hanna straightened up, feeling nervous. “You know, if you really want a cocktail, we could sneak off the boat when we get to Puerto Rico and go to a bar or something. I have a fake ID. And you have your, um, cousin’s, right?”

A strange expression flashed across Naomi’s face. “Yeah.”

“Are you guys close?” Her heart was pounding hard. She felt ridiculously transparent.

Naomi picked at her nails. “Like sisters. Her name’s Madison. She went to St. Agnes. Now she goes to Penn State. Or, well, she
did
go to Penn State until the accident.”

Hanna’s stomach dropped. “Did she …
die
?” She braced herself for the answer. Or for Naomi to start screaming that she knew everything and wanted Hanna dead.

Naomi glanced at Hanna for a long moment, almost as though she were sizing her up. But before she could answer, the beginning notes of “California Gurls” boomed through the space, and the lyrics appeared on the screen behind the stage.

Naomi leapt up. “God, I’m such a buzzkill! C’mon. Let’s forget about this and have fun.”

They rushed up to the front and grabbed the microphones. But when Hanna opened her mouth to sing, her voice sounded unsteady and thin. She kept picturing Madison in a hospital bed, post-crash, one of those horrible masks on her face breathing for her. She pictured Naomi, Madison’s favorite cousin, sitting by her side, a blubbering mess. Finding out that someone else was to blame would drive anyone to revenge. But how was Naomi able to play it so cool right now?

She glanced over at Naomi now. Her eyes were clear, her tears gone, and she was singing gleefully into the microphone as though she’d put the pain behind her. As the peppy chorus began, a bunch of kids in the audience sang along. Naomi’s voice rose. She turned around and slapped her butt. Hanna couldn’t help but snicker.

Then Hanna threw her head back and sang louder, too. Her voice sounded good blended with Naomi’s. When she opened her eyes, Naomi grabbed her hands and spun her around. She flipped her skirt, and Hanna grabbed two glowsticks from a nearby table, pretending firecrackers were exploding from her boobs. The crowd cheered. When Hanna looked out at their faces, even Graham was smiling.

When the song ended, a bunch of guys sitting along the wall chanted, “En-
core
! En-
core
!”

“The public loves us!” Hanna giggled as they stepped off the stage.

“That’s because we’re awesome!” Naomi looped her arm through Hanna’s elbow. “We should perform that at the talent show, don’t you think?”

“Um, sure,” Hanna said, remembering her promise to Spencer and the others to do the hula with them. But it wasn’t like she could say no—not to the girl who was potentially A.

And then, as if on cue, when she got back to her seat, her cell phone light was blinking. There was a new text message.

Naomi’s head had turned and she was talking to Ursula Tippington, paying no attention. Hanna cast a glance at Naomi’s phone on the table beside her. All she had to do was reach over and grab it, but her limbs felt as if they were filled with sand. Swallowing hard, she opened her text.

“Welcome to Puerto Rico!” Jeremy boomed over the loudspeaker on Thursday morning. He said it with a flamboyant Spanish accent, rolling the
r
s.

Emily watched as a lot of kids waved scarves at the people on shore. An acoustic, dreamy version of “Over the Rainbow” tinkled over the loudspeakers, and everyone groaned. That same song had played when they’d pulled out of Newark, then the following morning at sea,
then
to summon them to dinner the night before. It was getting a little old.

She sat down on a bench, inhaling the humid air. Jordan had left her a note on her bedside table earlier, saying she was grabbing coffee but that Emily should meet her. When her phone rang, she expected to see Jordan’s name, but it was Hanna instead.

“I have Spencer and Aria on the phone, too,” Hanna said as soon as Emily answered. “I hung out with Naomi. She doesn’t seem to know that we were involved in Madison’s accident—but
someone
does. A sent me another note about it.”

“Did you find out if Madison died?” Emily asked, her heart stopping in her chest.
Please say she didn’t
, she thought. If someone else died because of her, she wasn’t sure how she could go on. But then, finding out that Madison hadn’t been just passed-out drunk, as they’d all thought, was enough of a mind game. How could she have fled the scene, leaving a hurt, innocent girl behind? Emily kept picturing the police reading her charges, the looks on her parents’ faces. Her mother would probably keel over dead—and that would be yet
another
death Emily was responsible for.

“I don’t know if she died yet,” Hanna admitted. “We were interrupted before I could get to that, and I felt weird pushing it.”

“You have to try to find out what happened, Hanna,” Aria urged. “If she did die, or if she was hurt, that makes a stronger case for Naomi being A.”

“I know, I know.” Hanna sounded distraught. Then she sighed. “But I’m confused. Naomi seems so poised and innocent. Could she be that good of an actress?”

“I got a note from A yesterday, and when I looked up, Naomi was staring right at me,” Aria said. “My note made another reference to Jamaica. We need to figure this out soon and bring A down before A ruins us.”

“You know who I’m
not
so sure about?” Hanna said. “Tabitha’s ex. He was all alone in the karaoke bar, Aria, and it seemed like he was watching me.”

“He’s not A,” Aria said stubbornly.

“How can you be so sure?” Spencer asked. “
He
was there when you got the A note yesterday, too, wasn’t he?”

“But how could he know about everything else we did?” Aria said. “He was in South America last summer, remember?”

“So he says.”

There was a tense pause on the line. Finally, Spencer sighed and said she had to go. The other girls hung up, too, but they promised to meet up later to talk about their hula dance. After she hit
END
, Emily chewed hard on her gum. Though she didn’t believe Naomi was A, she also remembered something from the previous summer—maybe she and Naomi
did
share a connection. After the accident, when Emily was in Philadelphia, she’d been waddling home from the fish restaurant where she worked, deep in conversation with Derrick, her friend and coworker. They’d been talking about how heartbreaking Real Ali’s return to Rosewood had been for Emily, especially the kiss they’d shared.

“Are you sad she died in the fire?” Derrick had asked.

“Sort of,” Emily said, looking away. It wasn’t like she could tell Derrick that Ali
hadn’t
died in the fire—that she’d escaped through the door Emily had left open. Ali
had
died when Aria pushed her off the roof in Jamaica, though.

Then she had stopped short, spying someone across the intersection. There, standing at the window of the BCBG store, was Naomi Zeigler.

“Oh my God,” she’d gasped, pulling Derrick around the corner. She waited until Naomi had walked on, then figured she was safe. But what if Naomi had seen?

Emily’s phone bleated again, bringing her back to the present.
Aria
, said the Caller ID. “What are you doing today, Em?” she asked. “Do you want to get breakfast?”

Just then, Emily spied Jordan rounding the corner. She was wearing a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts and a sky-blue T-shirt Emily had loaned her. The same silk headband held back her long, dark hair.

“Uh, I can’t,” she said.

“Why not?” Aria sounded worried. “Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” Emily said in a lower voice. “
Better
than great, actually.” She peeked at Jordan as she strode toward her, a huge smile on her face. “I’ve made an amazing new friend.”

“Oh!” Aria sounded pleased. “That’s nice. At least
something
good is happening on this trip. Do I get to meet her?”

Emily chewed on the tip of her sunglasses. Aria might not approve of the fact that she was hiding someone in her room. They were in enough trouble as it was.

“Um, I’ll get back to you on that,” she said abruptly, and then hung up.

She dropped her phone in her bag and smiled at Jordan. “What are we up to today?” She nudged her playfully. “It had better be good. I’m skipping bird-watching for this.” Her bird-watching instructor had a beach expedition planned, though if it was anything like yesterday’s watch, Emily would be so bored that she’d almost fall asleep while staring through the binoculars. There was only so much excitement she could muster up for sea terns and pelicans.

Jordan extended a hand to help Emily up. “We’re going ashore.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave the boat?” Emily asked incredulously. “I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

Jordan raised one shoulder. “Live a little! Now c’mon, cutie!”

Cutie
. Jordan had also called her
hot stuff, honey
, and
hot cakes
. Maya St. Germain used to call her names like that, and Emily had to admit she liked it. Since Emily had met Jordan, her fascination had morphed into a full-blown crush. They’d stay up each night, talking about their lives. Jordan didn’t make fun of Emily for any of the babble that spilled from her mouth, like Ali had. She just listened with an intrigued smile on her face, as though Emily were the most interesting person in the world.

They walked down the ramp off the boat and stepped into the humid Puerto Rico air. The sun glimmered on the water. They passed a clump of kids wearing T-shirts from Ulster Prep, Jordan’s school. “Do you want to say hi?” Emily asked.

Jordan looked at her blankly. “To whom?”

“To …” Emily trailed off. They’d already passed the Ulster kids; the moment was gone.

“So what are we going to do?” she asked instead. “Wander the streets? Sit at a café and listen to mariachi music?”

“Patience, grasshopper.” Jordan bumped Emily’s hip, then took a sharp left and walked to a second dock full of tethered yachts and sailboats. She marched down the dock as though she knew it, stopping at a long, square, motorboat bobbing gently on the waves. “This’ll work,” Emily thought she heard her mumble.

She stepped onto the boat. It rocked slightly under her weight, and she stretched out her arms for balance. She strolled to the cockpit and peered at the gauges. Then she opened a hatch next to the steering wheel. After a bit of fiddling, the motor started up.

“Well?” she called to Emily over the growling sounds. “Are you coming aboard or not?”

Emily blinked. “Is this
your
boat?”

Jordan laughed. “No, silly!”

“Then what are you
doing
?”

Jordan leaned against the steering wheel. “Whoever it belongs to hasn’t tended to it for a long time.” She pointed to a sticker on the side. “See? The license is out of date. And there’s a ton of film on the side—it hasn’t been cleaned in years.” She patted one of the leather seats. “Poor old girl. You miss going out to sea, don’t you?”

“But we could get in huge trouble! I thought you were trying to stay under the radar!”

Jordan grabbed a captain’s hat that was hanging from a peg by the wheel and popped it on her head. “Life isn’t worth living if you’re scared all the time.”

Emily glanced over her shoulder, half expecting to see A’s shadow slipping behind a Chris-Craft parked near them. But no one was there. It was just her and Jordan and a dockful of boats. Jordan was right: She
was
scared all the time. When had she last actually had fun?

She tentatively put one foot onto the boat. “Just a
little
ride, okay?”

“Yay!” Jordan whooped, rushing over to help Emily aboard. She gave Emily a huge hug, holding her for a few extra beats. Emily’s skin tingled. The promise of more hugs like that was reason alone for breaking the rules.

Jordan untied the boat from the slip. Then, with a spin of the wheel, she backed the boat into the harbor. A salty-smelling breeze kicked up, blowing Emily’s hair around her face. In seconds, they were passing the cruise ship, then a bunch of sailboats. As they rounded the old fort on the outskirts of town, Emily looked down and noticed something. The bottom of the boat was glass. Fish swam gracefully just inches below her, visible in the bright sunlight.

“Oh my God!” She placed her palms on the glass. “Jordan! Come see!”

Jordan let the boat idle and walked into the hull, too. Tropical fish glided under her feet. Ocean plants waved gently. “Wow,” she said.

“I’ve never seen anything like it,” Emily breathed. “We don’t even need a dive mask!”