Ghost Island

Is Aaron a dream or something much more deadly?

Livia
Hinson has just begun a Seminar at Sea when a storm hits their yacht. Now, she is stranded with the other students on an island off the coast of California. Far away from her foster home and her heartbreak,
Livia
finds Aaron, the perfect love. But the only way they can be together is in her dreams.

The other students are having tempting dreams of their own, and
Livia
begins to realize that the storm has blown in more than rain. Is Aaron flesh or spirit? Can he come to her world, or will he pull her into his? Together, they explore the b
lu
rred territory between love and il
lu
sion on a dangerous journey that will force
Livia
to make the most important decision of her life.

KUDOS FOR
GHOST ISLAND

Bonnie Hearn Hill has earned herself a dedicated new fan with her page turner
Ghost Island
. A fantastic read from start to finish, this YA novel defies genres and will hook in readers of all ages...One of the strengths of
Ghost Island
is the rich color of the characters, all believable for their various ages, especially
Livia
and her teenage supporters, who tackle daunting challenges without appearing to be super human or mature beyond their years. The older supporting cast adds another layer of depth and provides a great foil for the younger protagonists. Bonnie Hearn Hill is to be commended for the fine balance struck between the generations. There is plenty of humor, action, and a hint of romance. –
Taylor, reviewer

I love the layers of this book, meeting new friends, mystery, and ghosts.
– TeensReadToo.com

Ghost Island
by Bonnie Hearn Hill is a fascinating book. Although it is intended for YA audiences, I found it enthralling.
Livia
Hinson is a delightful heroine. Genuine, clever, down on her luck, and exceptionally appealing, she tells the story in a unique and refreshing voice. From the moment the storm hits the yacht off the coast of California, you know this book is different.
Ghost Island
captured and held my interest from the opening paragraph to the last word... The storyline in
Ghost Island
was as fascinating as it was intriguing. –
Regan, reviewer

A real page turner.
– Publisher’s
Weekly

A tantalizing summer read for any young girl looking for intrigue. –
Kiwi Magazine’s Online Book Review

GHOST ISLAND

Revised Edition

BONNIE HEARN HILL

A BLACK OPAL BOOKS PUBLICATION

Copyright 2011 Bonnie Hearn Hill

Cover art by Christopher Allan Poe

Copyright 2013 All Rights Reserved

EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-937329-98-3

EXCERPT

Aaron claimed he was real...but was he?

Johnny tightened his arms around me.

“Now she’s going to think we’re a couple,” I said.

“At least it bought us a little more time. You can’t have anything else to do with that guy,
Livia
. If he shows up in your room, run, scream. Come find me.”

“Aaron’s never hurt me,” I told him.

“Of course not.
They never hurt us until it’s too late. They try to earn our trust. He’s worse than the others because he’s stronger. For all we know, he could be the leader.”

I jerked away from him. “That’s enough. I’m going to my room.”

“Promise me you won’t see him again.” In the moonlight, his features looked soft and safe.

“And you promise me you won’t go back to the casino.”

“I can’t,” he said.

“Neither can
I
.”

We stepped inside, and I reached for the door. As I started to close it, the shadow I had spotted earlier moved, and I realized someone was standing just a few feet away from us.
Probably Emily or one of her new friends.

“Now that’s scary,” I said.

“Ms. Gates? She’s only a teacher. And for right now, at least, she doesn’t have that much control over your life.”

“No, that.”
I pointed as the shape drew nearer.

“Don’t be scared. The wind has died down. We might really be able to actually get out of here soon.”

I realized that Johnny didn’t see the shadow moving closer to our sliding glass door.

I was the only one seeing it.

And the shadow was Aaron.

DEDICATION

For
Rik
Bollman
,

forever
friend

CHAPTER 1

We had just left Los Angeles when the storm hit. Thunder and lightning didn’t scare me. Neither did ghosts. When Ms. Gates, my English teacher, said she was sponsoring me for the Seminar at Sea cruise to Mexico, my first thought was of my mother, and how my Grandma Marie used to tell me that all spirits are attracted to the ocean. Maybe out there on the water, I’d have a chance to find my mom. My second thought was of Ms. Gates, and how one good teacher made up for all the others who saw me as only a footnote in a freak show murder case. At least on this cruise, no one would know that I,
Livia
Hinson, no longer had a family.

The flight from San Francisco with Ms. Gates this afternoon had gone as planned.
So had meeting up with the eleven kids who had flown into Los Angeles later in the day.
Tonight, this chartered catamaran would take our group just twenty miles out to Avalon Harbor on Catalina Island, and we would spend our first two nights there before joining the other students on the cruise ship.

“An easy sail,” said Mr. Freeman, our other chaperone, after we’d boarded the catamaran.

Short and unsmiling, he had steel-gray, buzz-cut hair that almost camouflaged his bald spot, and he made it clear he lived by the va
lu
es he’d learned in the military.

Grace, the redhead from Seattle, sighed heavily as he ordered us about the small craft. But I’d been the target of Mr. Freeman’s dirty look. Either he knew who I was, or he had taken an instant dislike to me.

The cabin was small but efficient with a table, a cook top and enough sitting
room
for all of us. Our
lu
ggage—only one
bag
each—was stashed in the back. On the a
lu
minum sink of the tiny galley, sat a tubful of ice and bottled water. Grace took one, and I joined her.

“How soon will we arrive?” she asked and sat down on the padded ledge across from the table.

“The captain says we’ll be there in a few hours, depending on the weather,” Mr. Freeman replied. “On Sunday afternoon, the cruise ship will pick us up, and we’ll be off to Mexico with the rest of the students.” He glanced around.
“Any other questions?”

No one spoke. Our adventure had begun. From across the table in the cabin, Ms. Gates shot me a smile as the boat moved through the water.

Then the rain hit.
Lots of it, everywhere.
Thick waves pounded the boat. We bundled up in jackets, scarves, and caps and shared blankets as the water washed over the deck above us. Hours passed. Mr. Freeman went up to talk to the captain, then joined us again.

“We’re just outside Avalon.” He shook rain from his faded jacket and stood in the puddle. “We can’t get any closer, and the water taxi isn’t running because of the storm. We’ll need to stay here until morning.”

Grace groaned. “This boat’s not big enough. We’re supposed to spend tonight and Saturday at the hotel. My dad paid extra so that I could have a private room.”

“We didn’t foresee this delay,” Mr. Freeman told her. “There are only two berths on this boat, and they each sleep two people, max. You’ll be refunded for the hotel and have a private room throughout your time on the cruise.”

“That sucks.” The boat rocked in the water. “Shit.” She grabbed the arm of my sweater and almost fell off her seat.

“It’s okay,” I told her.

“Easy for you to say.
I’m super claustrophobic. I’ll go nuts cooped up in here with a bunch of strangers for the rest of the night. I need to have one of the berths.”

“That’s not fair to the other students,” he said. “I think the chaperones should get those.”

“How so, Mr. Freeman?”
Grace ran her fingers through her tangled rich-girl hair. “You’re being paid. The rest of us aren’t just your students. We’re your employers, in a way.”

“That’s ridiculous.” He glared at me, as if I had said it, and again I wondered what he knew about me.

“She has a point.” Speaking up seemed like the right thing, especially since Grace’s nails dug deeper into my arm each time the boat
lu
rched.

“As you know, my dad paid extra too.” It was Johnny, a cute guy in a navy hoodie who I had been making eye-contact with since we met in Los Angeles.

Then a short blond guy in glasses raised his hand. “My parents also paid for a private.” He shot Freeman a superior smile. “But I don’t care where I sleep.”

“Well, I do,” Johnny said. “Let’s you and I take one berth. The girls over there can have the other one.”

“Works for me,” the short guy replied. I looked at his spiked blond hair and dark-framed glasses and knew he was one of them. One of the kids who always had the money for whatever they wanted.

“So be it.” Freeman shrugged in my direction, rose, and beckoned Ms. Gates. “Let’s make some coffee,” he told her without moving toward the galley. “It’s going to be a long night.”

“Come on.” Grace nudged me. “He said
the girls.
Let’s get the berth before someone else does.”

“I didn’t pay extra,” I whispered back to her.

“Who cares? At least you aren’t one of those token charity cases they usually put on these boring cruises.” She squeezed my arm again. “Hurry up. I don’t want to end up with one of them.”

Because I was exhausted, I followed her. The berth was like a triangle, with only a small point at the end for our feet. She got in first and turned onto her stomach.

“Nothing personal,” she said, “but I’m going to pretend you aren’t here.”

“Good idea.” I joined her and rested on my left side facing the curtained berth where the guys must have been. My entire body went soft. I didn’t care about this girl or how much money her parents had. I just liked being one of the chosen ones for a change—for the first time since my mom disappeared, since my dad went to prison, and since I ended up in an endless string of foster homes.

Just then, the boat rolled far to the right, and Grace cried out.

“You girls need any help over there?” I recognized Johnny’s voice and felt myself smile.

“Not tonight,” I replied.

From behind me, I heard Grace’s muffled giggle. “Winter break might be more fun than I thought,” she said. “I’ve never been to
Cabo
San Lucas. Have you?”

“No.” I turned deeper into my pillow and thought,
if only you knew
.

This girl had no idea how grateful I was to be on any boat, headed anywhere. It wasn’t just the going that excited me. It was the escape. Thanks to Ms. Gates, I was able to momentarily disregard the pressing pain of my mom’s disappearance and my dad’s conviction. I could focus on something other than the well-meaning sadness of my foster home and my older brother Drew’s anger in his own displaced existence. And out here on the sea, in the hammering rain, I could ignore the emptiness that the breakup with Chris had left.

Besides, I reminded myself, if my mom really were dead—and I could barely deal with that possibility—maybe out here, she would finally be able to tell me what had happened. Wouldn’t that be something? Pretty ironic, if my ability to see ghosts, a gift my mom had hated and refused to acknowledge, was what could lead me to the truth about what happened to her.

Grace began to snore in a soft in-and-out hum, like a
lu
llaby.

Soon the boat’s rocking erased everything from my mind except the movement of the sea. Okay to relax and give into the rhythm, I told myself. Okay to finally sleep.

***

The large, round building looks familiar, its adobe-tile roof like a lid on a frosted-white cake. The tiles glint in the sun as I approach it. Ocean surrounds most of the structure. If I were up there on the second floor, I could look out any window and see only b
lu
e, as if the island and our lives go on forever, and as if that forever is the color of the sky.

On the ground floor, the red-and-gold carpets of the theater match the murals. People and parts of people float past me. I see a silhouette of what must have once been a beautiful girl with large, sparkling diamond hoops in her ears. Behind her, an il
lu
minated outline of two muscular, male legs, and a pretty pinched-faced brunette wearing an old-fashioned white apron over a long dress of pale b
lu
e. She sneers at me, lifts her hands to her lips, and I see that her nails are bitten to the quick.

Some of the faces look almost human, except that the color and expression has bled from them. Others are only light sketches against the bright backdrop.

It’s not the first time I’ve seen what remains of the dead when they leave this life—or try to—but I’ve never experienced more than one spirit at a time, and never this distinctly.

I remember again what my Grandma Marie told me about spirits being attracted to the sea, and then think of my mom and glance past them, the way I would page through a book, looking for the right photograph to match a memory. If only I could find my mom out here.

“What are you doing?” a deep voice behind me demands.

I whirl around and see a guy looking at me. He’s about my age, wearing a faded green sweater. As he closes the distance between us, I see his eyes, hazel and flecked with gold. His hair is golden as well, as if even in this dark place, the sun has found him.

“I got lost.”

He grins.
“Me too.”

“You scared me,” I say.

“I’m sorry. It’s just that no one is supposed to come down here. Who are you anyway? What’s your name?”

“
Livia
.”
I can barely speak.

“I’m Aaron.”

Aaron
. The word wraps itself around me. “Why are
you
here then?” I ask.

“I took a wrong turn, I guess.”

“Maybe we both did.” For some reason, I find myself smiling then trying to suppress laughter.

He’s doing the same, looking at me as if we’ve just discovered something incredibly funny at exactly the same moment.

He moves closer and puts out his hand. “Well, then, why don’t we leave?”

Then the world shatters into rain and thunder. He is gone, and so am I, falling through pieces of sky.