Burned (29 page)

Reefer shook his head rapidly. “No, Spencer, she
is
. She told me everything.”

Spencer frowned. “Told you what?”

“She
was
the one gaslighting you.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “She poured baby oil on the floor, rigged the bed so it would break, all of it. Everything you thought was happening was true.”

Spencer blinked hard. “She actually
admitted
that?”

Reefer nodded. “I just talked to her. First she told me about the rescue, but then she admitted what she’d been up to. She seemed to feel really bad about it.
I
feel bad about it, too. I didn’t believe you. Can you ever forgive me?”

Spencer stared at him crazily. “
I
should be the one begging for forgiveness.
I’m
the one who’s been acting crazy. And
I’m
the one who broke up with you. I never should have done that.”

Reefer squeezed her tight. “Of course I forgive you,” he murmured. “It’s been a weird trip, hasn’t it? Naomi tormenting you, that fugitive girl jumping overboard, and did you hear about the explosion? It might have been intentional.”

Spencer swallowed hard. “I didn’t hear that.” She hoped it sounded like the truth.

Reefer nodded. “It started in the boiler room. They think a passenger did it.”

Spencer looked down, knowing eye contact with Reefer would give everything away. “Do they know who did it?” she asked.

Reefer shrugged. “No clue. They’re trying to bring up security cameras from the boiler room, but two of them were knocked out. I heard that they made out two people on the third camera, though—they’re just trying to figure out who they were.”

Spencer glanced at Aria, who was still talking to Hanna and Emily. She was sure the two figures on the security tape were Aria … and Graham. She shut her eyes for a moment, considering Graham as A. They didn’t even
know
him. It all seemed so …
impersonal
. What kind of lunatic stalks and torments his girlfriend’s killers instead of simply turning them in to the police?

A lunatic called A, of course.

She turned back to Reefer, wanting to think about something else. “I missed you so much,” she admitted.

“I missed you, too,” Reefer said, and leaned forward to kiss her neck.

Spencer tilted her head back, savoring the sensation. But suddenly, as a group of tourists wearing American flag T-shirts waded through the kids, reality snapped into focus once more. They were going to call the FBI
tomorrow
. How would it go down? First a call, then a meeting with the investigator, then a tearful confession? She pictured her parents being summoned to jail, the press clamoring at the door with questions, their names in the news again, everyone staring at them. What would Reefer think when he found out?

She let out a small, quiet moan and hugged Reefer even tighter. When she was a little girl, she and Melissa used to play a game they’d made up called “Prince Charming,” in which they listed all of the characteristics they wanted in a future boyfriend. At first, Spencer always copied what Melissa said—tall, dark, handsome, drives a nice car, and has a good job—until she realized they were, more or less, describing their dad. But even when she imagined a unique future prince, things like
smells like hemp
or
can quote obscure Grateful Dead songs
were never on her list. But as she gazed at Reefer’s kind, gentle face, the same wistful, someday-my-prince-will-come feelings she used to have when playing the game welled up inside of her. Even though Reefer wasn’t the sort of guy she had anticipated ending up with, he was exactly what she wanted.

But would he want
her
, after he found out what she’d done?

Even though the Eco Cruise company had chartered flights for the kids to take back to Philadelphia, there was still the matter of everyone collecting their stuff from their rooms on the ship. The boat pulled into the Hamilton harbor at 7
A.M
. on Monday, and everyone was allowed one hour to pack up. Aria and Noel climbed up the ramp, then glanced at the auditorium, which was still decorated for the talent show. It was kind of sad to see the festive balloons, streamers, and search lights. Even the food was still set up, though flies were buzzing around it hungrily.

Noel pointed at the first-prize Vespa, which was parked near the stage. “I wonder who’s going to get that?”

“No one, I guess,” Aria murmured.

He shook his head somberly. “Yesterday
sucked
.” He took Aria’s hand. “I just can’t believe you thought it was a good idea to go and get some stupid family heirloom that Spencer lost on a dive. You could have died.”

Aria lowered her eyes. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. We didn’t plan on the raft deflating. It was a freak thing.”

“You just should have thought it through.” Noel cupped the sides of Aria’s face in his hands. “When Naomi told me that you guys sailed off into the sunset and hadn’t come back yet, my heart just about stopped. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Aria murmured, but tears sprung to her eyes. Those horrible moments in the water were so fresh and raw in her mind. She still couldn’t wrap her mind around the fact that Naomi wasn’t A, either—and that A might be Graham and Graham alone. He’d watched all of them, slipping in and out of the shadows so effortlessly. He’d been the one to kill Gayle and almost kill them.

As they walked further onto the ship, the smell of smoke grew stronger. Noel wrinkled his nose. “Nasty.” As they passed the casino, Noel glanced at the table up front, which still bore a sign for the Eco Scavenger Hunt. “Did you talk to Graham after we evacuated?” he said, making a face. “I’m surprised
he
didn’t want to rescue you.”

Aria swallowed hard, revisiting those horrible moments in the boiler room. Spencer had told her that the ship was able to salvage one of the security cameras, but she was of two minds about what the tape would reveal: On one hand, it might be good for Graham to be identified and caught. On the other,
she
was certainly the second figure on the tape. Noel would probably lose his mind if he found out she’d almost been blown to smithereens.

She wiped her eyes and looked around the crowd of kids heading to their rooms. Graham’s room was on that floor, but he wasn’t among them. In fact, Aria hadn’t seen him anywhere. She’d searched the crowds in the hotel lobby, restaurants, and outdoor spaces nonstop, but he’d been nowhere. Then again, if he
was
A, hiding in plain sight was what he did best.

But soon it wouldn’t matter anymore. Once they told about Tabitha, Graham wouldn’t be able to torment them any longer. They’d be free.

“Earth to Aria?”

She jumped. Noel was staring at her. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Aria tried to smile, but her mouth wouldn’t cooperate. Reality hit her like a bucket of cold water over her head.
They were going to tell
. Didn’t she owe it to Noel to tell him, too? She didn’t want him to find out by watching the six o’clock news.

“I …” she began, her voice cracking.

Noel looked worried. “What is it?” he asked softly.

“I-I’ve done something horrible,” Aria whispered.

“What?” Noel edged closer. It was unclear if he just hadn’t heard her or was asking her to elaborate.

Someone slammed a door. Another boat on the harbor blew a loud, ugly-sounding horn. The story throbbed on Aria’s tongue, begging to be set free. “I’ve …”

Suddenly, Jeremy’s voice screeched over the loudspeaker. “Forty-five minutes left, everyone! Please pack quickly!”

Noel turned back to Aria. He looked at her for a few beats, waiting. Aria turned away. “Never mind,” she said. There was no way she could blurt it all out now.

He gave her a big hug, then pulled away and touched her collarbone. “Where’s your necklace?”

Aria’s mind scrambled for an excuse. “I must have lost it in the water.” She hoped she sounded convincing. “I guess it wanted to be returned to the sea.”

Noel nodded slowly, not seeming that distressed. “I guess it’s better you lost
it
than I lost
you
.”

He gave her a final hug, then headed toward his room. Aria stepped back on the elevator—her room was two flights below Noel’s. Every muscle in her body felt twitchy and charged. That very well might be the last hug she and Noel would ever share. Would he even speak to her after he found out she was a murderer?

Suddenly, just as the doors were closing, a man in a police uniform walked by, his posture stiff, his gaze straight ahead. Aria stabbed the
DOOR OPEN
button and slipped into Noel’s hall once more. The cop walked to the end of the hall, then entered an open door on the left. Aria was almost positive that was Graham’s room. She remembered where it was from when she’d picked him up to go mini-golfing. It seemed like so long ago now.

She watched as Noel strode to his room, inserted his key into the door, and walked inside. Then, taking a deep breath, she started down the hall, too. She passed Noel’s door, heading to the end of the corridor to the door the cop had entered. It was definitely Graham’s—Aria recognized the knight sticker on the marker board.

She peered inside, bracing to see Graham, but instead only the cop and Jeremy were there. Their heads were close, and they spoke in heated tones.

“How long has he been unconscious?” the cop asked, hands on his hips.

“Since the evacuation,” Jeremy murmured. “I’m not sure how bad his injuries are—the doctors aren’t telling me much. His family is flying in soon.”

Aria blinked. Was Graham in the
hospital
?

The cop made a wry face. “Unconsciousness is an easy way not to talk, huh? The security footage reveals two people, one of whom is him.” He gazed at a cell phone. “He has a lot to be afraid of right now.”

“Have you identified the second person?” Jeremy asked.

Aria held her breath. But then the cop shifted his weight and said, “We still can’t get enough facial characteristics on the second person. We think it’s a male, though.”

Aria frowned, confused. She ran her fingers through her long hair, then stared at her sinewy, feminine fingers, each one painted a glittery coral color. She’d been mistaken for a lot of things over the years, but never, ever, a guy.

Suddenly, the two looked up and saw her. Jeremy’s eyes widened. The cop looked angry. “Yes?” he barked.

“Um, I’m looking for Graham?” she said, surprised at how weak and timid her voice sounded. “Do you know where he is?”

Something flickered across Jeremy’s face for a split second, then submerged. “You need to pack up now, okay?”

An alarm bell went off in her head. “Is Graham …
okay
?” she asked, her voice squeaking.

Jeremy frowned and stepped toward her. “Seriously. If you don’t get everything out of your room in the next half hour, we’re not letting you back on for it.”

The contours of his face had sharpened, making him look older and menacing. Aria turned and walked quickly back to the elevator, feeling that she’d just seen and heard something she shouldn’t. An uncomfortable feeling came over her, but before she could think too clearly about it, she sped up, wanting to be away from the room that had possibly been A’s once and for all.

The next day, the shuttle van pulled into Emily’s driveway, and the kind driver, who’d talked Emily’s ear off the whole drive about his sixteen-year-old son who would be just
perfect
for her, trotted to the back and grabbed Emily’s bags.

“Looks like no one’s home.” He squinted at the Fieldses’ blue colonial. The windows were dark, the shutters were drawn, and there were windswept weeds and branches all over the porch.

Emily shrugged. Her dad had sent her a terse text shortly before she landed at Newark Airport saying he couldn’t pick her up after all and had arranged for the shuttle. He didn’t offer an excuse, and Emily wondered if it was just because he didn’t want to be stuck in the car with her for two torturous hours. Apparently, he didn’t sympathize with the fact that she’d had to escape the ship on a lifeboat.

She gave the driver the last twenty-dollar bill in her wallet as a tip, then punched in the garage code and watched as the door slowly rose. Sure enough, both her parents’ cars sat quietly in the garage. She walked around them and opened the side door.

The familiar smell of her house, a mix of slightly stale potpourri, bleach, and the musky cologne her dad always wore, made her throat tighten. For a few hours, she had thought she’d never have to come back here. And after everything that had happened, she hadn’t had time to prepare to return to this life.

All of a sudden, her legs wouldn’t move. She couldn’t endure another sidelong glance from her parents, another heavy sigh. She couldn’t tolerate the heavy, disappointed silence, her mother’s closed bedroom door, those horrible dinners with her father where neither of them spoke. And it would only get worse once she and her friends confessed.

She stood in the laundry room, one hand on the top of the washer. Maybe she’d turn around, walk out the door, and stay at a hotel for the night. They were going to call the police tomorrow—she’d probably be in custody within twenty-four hours. Why not spend the remaining hours of freedom somewhere peaceful and relatively calm? Why torture herself by being around people who hated her?