“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.”