by Sara Shepard
As she ran her fingers across a piece of coral, a sharp pain prodded at her skull. She wheeled around, thinking something had struck her, but there wasn’t a person or even a fish anywhere close. She blinked hard, suddenly feeling light-headed. When she took a breath, her lungs didn’t fill. Had she gone too deep? Did she have the bends?
She tried to breathe in again, but she couldn’t inhale. Suddenly desperate, she fiddled with her dive mask—perhaps it wasn’t lined up properly with her mouth. But it was, and yet she still couldn’t draw a breath. Her heart began to pound. She tried to swim to the surface, but her arms and legs felt like dead weights. She checked her pressure gauge again, but the tank was still full. That was impossible, though—she definitely wasn’t getting oxygen.
She gasped for air, an idea forming in her mind. She’d heard about this kind of thing happening. People could mess with the gauges, make them appear at the right levels when in fact the tank was empty. She knew that was what had happened. And she knew who had done it, too. A.
Spencer woozily glanced through the water, finding Naomi within the clump of divers in the distance. The baby oil and bed-breaking tricks were child’s play compared to cutting off her oxygen supply. Of course Naomi still hated her! And to think, Spencer thought she was safe just because she’d broken up with Reefer!
“Mmm!” she cried, the sound getting swallowed up in the water. Spots were starting to form in front of her eyes. She flailed her arms and legs and weakly called out for help, but the divers were too far away to notice. She kicked closer. By now her lungs were burning, greedy for air.
“Mmm!” she called out, waving her arms some more. But all the divers’ backs were to her. Spencer’s eyes started to close. Her neck lolled back, and her body suddenly felt heavy. Darkness crept in, obscuring her vision. Her leg bumped a piece of rock, but she couldn’t move. She had no energy to move. This was the end, and she couldn’t even fight.
A warm feeling washed over her body, and she allowed herself to sink. She couldn’t hear breathing in her ears any longer. Her eyes fluttered closed. The last thing she saw was a light coming toward her, filling her field of vision …
Then, air pushed into Spencer’s lungs, and she opened her eyes with a jolt. She coughed violently, and salt water spewed from her mouth and exploded from her nose, burning her nostrils. She was lying on the deck of the boat again. Reefer crouched over her, his lips wet, a relieved look on his face.
“Oh my God,” he breathed. “Are you okay?”
Spencer tried to speak, but another cough came out instead. She rolled over to her side and waited for the water to drain from her ears. For a split second, she thought Reefer had just been kissing her, that their break-up had been a dream. But then everything rushed back.
“What … happened?” she croaked.
“You just started sinking,” Reefer said. “I found you and pulled you to the surface, then gave you mouth-to-mouth. Tim checked your gauges—you had no oxygen left in your tank.”
A chill snaked up her spine. She searched the crowd of kids that had gathered on the boat and found Naomi lurking at the back, her gaze bouncing from Spencer to Reefer. Her lips were pressed together so tightly they were almost transparent, and her eyes were round and wide. She looked shaken—maybe because Reefer was comforting Spencer.
Or maybe because her plan to hurt Spencer had failed.
27
SURPRISE INSIDE
A few hours later, Aria glanced at herself in the full-length mirror near the auditorium. She was wearing the skimpy bikini she’d had on for her first swim lesson with Noel, the grass skirt, a bunch of beaded necklaces, and her lace-up sandals. As a final touch, she’d popped a flower behind her ear.
She looked across the auditorium lobby. A girl passed carrying a portable easel under her arm. Several kids held instrument cases. Jeremy, still in his star-shaped sunglasses, ran past them with a clipboard in hand, looking frazzled. Two men in suits and a woman in a ball gown, presumably the other judges, followed behind him. Everyone was talking excitedly, and the room had a festive, free-for-all attitude about it. Hundreds of balloons floated along the ceiling and Hollywood Walk-of-Fame stars lined the ground.
She spied Noel near one of the auditorium entrances and almost burst out laughing. He was wearing a baggy, shiny tracksuit and a bunch of gold chains around his neck. She ran over to him. “You look more like a gym teacher than a rapper!”
Noel twisted the baseball cap he had on his head sideways and crossed his arms over his chest, gangsta-style. “You just wait until you hear my rhymes. Mike and I are so ready for this.”
“When are you on?” Aria asked.
“Seven-thirty. You?”
Aria checked her phone; she and everyone else participating in the talent show had been sent a schedule of events. “Seven,” she said. “I think we’re one of the first acts.” It was six-thirty.
Noel looped his arm in her elbow. “Let’s check out the food.”
They walked into the auditorium and down the aisles to the stage area, where a bar and food tables had been set up. Several rows of chairs had been removed to make room for a makeshift dance floor. As they maneuvered past a group of girls practicing a series of cheerleading tumbling passes, Aria punched Emily’s number into her phone once more. Voicemail again. This was the third time she’d tried Emily in the last few hours. She thought about the news alert on the TV screen when she’d left her room. PREPPY THIEF JUMPS OFF CRUISE SHIP IN BERMUDA, it had said. FBI AGENTS COMBING HARBOR. It certainly explained all the FBI ships in the harbor the last time Aria had looked out the porthole. Apparently, the girl hadn’t gotten off the boat at the last port, as Emily had said.
There was a beep, and then Aria said, “Em, I’m at the talent show. I hope everything’s okay and you’re still up to performing. Call me when you get this.” She dropped her phone back into her clutch, then scanned the masses of kids running in every direction. Spencer was missing, too, as was Hanna.
Noel grabbed an empty plate and waited in line at a table filled with silver tureens full of food. “So where’s Graham?”
Aria looked away, feeling a sharp pull in her stomach. “I don’t know.”
Noel raised his eyebrows. “I thought you guys were best buds.”
Aria fingered her grass skirt. “The hunt is over. I guess we didn’t have as much in common as we thought.”
“Did you get him that girlfriend like you promised?”
She kept her eyes fixed on the tray of shiny forks and spoons on the table. “Turns out she wasn’t his type.”
She could feel Noel’s gaze on her, trying to figure out what she wasn’t telling him. She probably should tell him the truth—it was part of their pact, after all—but if he found out the guy had practically grabbed her boobs, he’d probably bust his door down and try to beat him up. It was better that he thought Graham had just lost interest. If only that really was what happened. The muscles in her neck ached from when Graham had yanked her forward. His furious expression flashed in her mind again and again, and her stomach clenched when she thought about how he’d chased her to the stairs.
“Hey, party people!” Jeremy called from the stage. Shabby-looking guys in roadie T-shirts and ripped jeans scuttled behind him, setting up equipment. “I realize we’re still setting up, but to get you in the mood, I have a huge surprise for you. A special guest has joined us to perform a few songs as a pre-show event. Without further ado, put your hands together for … Vegan Sunrise!”
Aria looked at Noel questioningly; she’d never heard of them. Kids clapped halfheartedly, looking just as confused. But when four band members took the stage and started playing a guitar-heavy cover of “When I Come Around,” everyone shrugged and started dancing.
The food line moved, and Aria and Noel filled their plates. She checked her phone a few more times, but still no Emily or Spencer. The crowd got more raucous and excited, and a girl’s elbow flew out of nowhere, knocking Aria’s plate from her ha
nds. She twisted to grab it, but her ankle turned awkwardly, and down she went, too. She felt herself falling but couldn’t do anything about it; in seconds, she was on the floor, vegetarian noodles in her hair. A ping sounded in her ear. At first, she thought it was the fork bouncing off the ground, but when she picked herself up, she realized that it was her locket. Its two halves had sprung open from the fall.
“Are you okay?” Noel asked, extending his arm to help Aria up.
“Sure,” Aria said, picking up her spilled food as best she could and tossing it into a nearby trash can. Then she turned back to the locket. Inside was a picture of two blond, smiling girls, their cheeks pressed together. As she squinted, she slowly realized that she knew the girls. The one on the right had a round face, big blue eyes, and faint burn scars on her neck. Tabitha.
Then she looked at the girl on the left. Her eyes slowly scanned her familiar heart-shaped face, her big blue eyes. She drew back, startled. No. It couldn’t be.
She held the locket away from her face, but the girl’s eyes seemed to follow her. She had a manipulative, winning smile that had entranced Aria for years. A scream froze in Aria’s throat. All of a sudden, she couldn’t breathe.
Ali.
“Aria?”
Aria looked up and blinked. Noel was staring at her from a few feet away. She gave him a tight, nervous smile and shut the locket fast. The catch had broken, though, and the locket sprung right back open. She stared at the picture once more. It couldn’t be. Surely her brain was playing tricks on her. She tried to close it again, then peered carefully at the front of the pendant. In the strong overhead stage lights, the initial inscribed into the silver wasn’t an I or a J. It was a T.
For Tabitha?
Something suddenly clicked in her brain. Heart thudding, she grabbed her phone, pulled up the Tabitha Clark Memorial website, and stared hard at the picture of the girl on the home page. That was where she had seen this necklace before. On Tabitha, before she died.
She held up the necklace. “W-where did you really find this?”
Noel looked confused. “I told you. It was in the sand in St. Martin. Why?”
Aria’s thoughts scattered in a million different directions. “That’s impossible,” she whispered. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Had A planted it for Noel to find? And then there was the picture—Tabitha and Ali had been friends.
She took a step, but her legs felt wobbly. “Aria?” Noel touched her arm. “What is it?”
“I just have to …,” she said faintly. She staggered toward the exit. Her phone beeped. It was Graham. Panicked, Aria hit IGNORE, then dialed Spencer’s number. But the call went to voicemail.
“Where are you?” Aria demanded after the beep. “We need to talk.”
But she was afraid to say anything over the phone, so she hung up and kept running. She called Emily next, but she didn’t answer either. Same with Hanna. She ran up the aisle and sprinted to the elevator, pressing the UP button repeatedly.
“Aria?”
Aria turned. Graham was standing by the window, staring at her. “You walked right past me,” he said, looking annoyed. “Why didn’t you answer my call? I need to talk to you.”
“I …” Aria trailed off, her gaze dropping to the locket in her hands. Graham was looking at it, too. His eyebrows met. His mouth grew very small, and all of a sudden, he reached out and touched her wrist. She gasped and closed her fist around it, but it was too late. Of course Graham recognized his girlfriend’s old necklace. He’d probably recognized it from earlier.
“I-I can explain,” Aria stammered.
Graham blinked hard. “You can?”
His cheeks were red. His eyes blazed. All at once, another barrel clicked in her brain, and a horrible thought bulldozed all others. He knows what I did.
It made perfect sense. Graham hadn’t wanted to talk to her about his burgeoning crush: He wanted to confront Aria about being a murderer.
She spun around, searching frantically for somewhere to go. The red EXIT sign for the stairs glowed in the distance.
“Aria!” Graham yelled, lurching after her. He grabbed her arm and clamped down hard. His fingers felt like hot irons on Aria’s skin. She screamed and wrenched away from him, pushing through the heavy door and heading down. She’d never gone below the auditorium level and didn’t know what was there. Up ahead was a door marked DO NOT ENTER.
Graham’s footsteps echoed on the landing below. “Aria, come back here!” he roared.
She burst through the door anyway and spilled into a large, empty room full of ship machinery. Boilers chugged. Air-conditioning units hummed. Other utility devices rattled and churned. The space was lit by a few spare overhead lights and split into several long, mazelike corridors. There wasn’t a soul around.
Behind her, the door opened. “Aria!” Graham called out, his voice reverberating.
Aria skidded behind a boiler, but Graham spied her and started running, his face red, his nostrils flaring, his teeth bared.
She wheeled around, desperately searching for someone to help her, but she was alone. Then she scrambled for somewhere to go, somewhere to hide. There was another door past the boilers marked STAFF ONLY. She ran for it and pushed it open. This room was filled with pipes and monitors and more boilers. The grumbling sound was almost deafening, reminding her of a revved motorcycle engine. The doorknob rattled, and Aria rushed to turn the lock, then threw her weight against it. Frightened tears ran down her cheeks.
“Damn it, Aria, you can’t hide forever!” Graham pounded on the door.
“Please,” Aria whimpered. “Just go away. Please.”
“I’m not leaving until—”
An engine sputtered. He tried to scream over the machinery sounds. “I need to—I need …”
“Just leave me alone!” Aria sobbed. “I’m sorry, okay? I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to do it to her! I was just so scared! We all were!”
“You can’t … I … he … and …” Graham’s angry voice rose and fell. Aria could only make out every other word. “… watching you!”
“Please go away!” Aria screamed. “I said I was sorry! Please let me go!”
“… there’s a picture!” Graham continued. “… watching you!”
Aria blood sizzled. He had to be referencing the awful photo of Aria pushing Tabitha off the roof. Maybe he had taken that photo. Maybe that’s what he meant by watching you.
Thoughts cascaded in her mind like a falling line of dominoes. What if Graham was crazy about Tabitha and hadn’t let her go after they broke up? Maybe he’d followed her to Jamaica to rekindle things. Maybe he’d taken pictures of her without her knowing, and had posed on the shore to take pictures of Tabitha on the crow’s-nest deck. Only, instead of documenting Tabitha with some new friends, he had witnessed a murder. Maybe he’d snapped a picture of her lying on the beach, too, after she’d fallen and died. Maybe he’d even torn this necklace from her throat and planted it for Noel to find. It didn’t make sense why Graham didn’t tell someone at the resort right away, but maybe he’d wanted to get revenge his way. And so … he’d become A.
Aria began to tremble. Was it possible? All the warnings her friends had given her, all the times they’d said he had motive, and there she was, by his side, making excuses for him. He did have motive. He could have gotten in touch with Naomi, somehow, after the crash, and recruited her onto his team.
He could be a murderer. A torturer. And now she was trapped in this room with him on the other side.
The door thumped and thudded with Graham’s pounding fists and kicking feet. When Aria shut her eyes, she saw Tabitha’s terrified face as she fell. She pictured her broken body on the sand, kissed by the incoming tide. Aria was a terrible person. She deserved Graham to be mad at her. But she didn’t deserve what he’d done as A.
Boom.
Aria screamed and covered her head. The sound was so close, and the room vibrated. The lights flickered overhead, and the sound of metal hitting the gro
und clanged all around her. She let out a breath and peeked through her fingers. Had something exploded? There was as horrible smell in the air of gunpowder and charred electronics. It sort of reminded her of a firework. Or, perhaps, a homemade bomb.
A fire alarm started to blare. “Everyone!” Jeremy’s voice crackled over the loudspeaker after about a minute. “We need you to evacuate right now! Please go to your lifeboat stations in an orderly fashion!”
Evacuate? Aria’s heart started to pound. She wasn’t even opening the door.
She cocked her ear, waiting for Graham to start pounding again. A few seconds passed, and then a minute. Finally, Aria opened the door a crack. Emergency lights flashed overhead. The room was thick with smoke. A boiler had tipped over. Pieces of metal were strewn all over the floor. Black smoke was pouring out from seemingly everywhere, and flames leapt to the ceiling. The explosion had definitely occurred right there in that room.
She let out a scream, then wrenched open the door. She had to get out of there. She looked around for Graham, expecting him to grab her. But even through the haze, the realization dawned on her fast.
Graham was gone.
28
WOMEN AND CHILDREN FIRST
Emily followed the stream of kids toward the stairs, her nostrils burning with smoke. Above her, emergency lights flashed. Kids were screaming about the strange explosion, laughing hysterically, or making nervous comparisons to Titanic. And even though they’d attended a safety meeting the very first day on the boat, no one seemed to remember where their lifeboat stations were.
“Everyone!” Jeremy yelled over the loudspeaker. “If we get separated, please remember to meet us at the Royal Arms Hotel in Hamilton, Bermuda.”
Jeremy repeated the message three times more. As Emily waited to go down the stairs, she glanced at the sky. A plane zoomed overhead, coming from the Bermuda airport, which was now a ten-minute boat trip away. Was it the plane she and Jordan were supposed to be on? She pictured the people sitting in their seats, the stewardesses cruising up the aisles, the smell of fresh-brewed coffee wafting through the cabin—and the two unoccupied seats meant for her and Jordan.
