Burned (Pretty Little Liars #12)

Burned (Pretty Little Liars #12) Page 5

Aria had hoped to use the time on this cruise to really figure out what she wanted to do, but she worried about the police investigation. What if the cops figured it out before she’d decided? What if A gave them a clue they didn’t even know A had yet? Aria would rather the confession be on her terms, her decision, but it felt like she was running out of time.

Now they passed a bunch of booths offering sign-ups for short-fiction workshops, pottery classes, and an ecotour sponsored by Greenpeace. Then Aria spied a sign that said SCAVENGER HUNT! Next to it were pictures of kids looking at clues, riding down zip-lines, and trekking through the rain forest. EXPLORE THE ISLANDS! a sign read. MAKE AN ENVIRONMENTAL DIFFERENCE! WIN BIG PRIZES!

“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.”

“Hello, James?” Hanna leveled a stare at him, reminding him she was Mike’s girlfriend.

James looked at Hanna apathetically. “Hey.” Then he turned back to Mike. “Some of the beaches in St. Martin allow nudity. Wanna help convince the Catholic girls to take a little trek with us?”

“Definitely.” Mike practically began to drool.

Hanna pinched his arm. “Like hell you will!”

“Just kidding,” Mike said quickly, then leaned toward her. “Unless you want to make it a threesome.”

Hanna pinched him again. Then she flicked a lock of auburn hair over her shoulder and peered at James. “What Catholic school are you talking about?”

Again, James looked at Hanna like she was one of the pesky horseflies that had buzzed around them during the ship’s departure. “I don’t know. Villa … something.”

“Villa Louisa?” Hanna spat.

“I think that’s it.” James squinted at her. “Why, are you thinking of stalking them?”

Hanna pressed her nails into the heel of her hand. “Very funny.” Two weeks ago, she’d won Mike away from what she now called his “mistake,” Colleen Bebris, despite the fact that A had sent the entire school an embarrassing video montage of Hanna trying to dig up something naughty about Colleen by stalking her. Though Mike seemed to have forgotten the video, no one else had. Girls from Rosewood Day and some of the other private schools nudged each other and giggled at her as she’d boarded this morning. When she’d tried to take a spin class this afternoon, a not-even-that-cute-or-thin girl from the Quaker school had quickly set her water bottle on a free bike, saying it was saved. Hanna felt like she had a big sign on her back that said LOSER and just didn’t know about it.

Hanna knew of the Villa Louisa girls, but she didn’t know any personally. People from other schools called them Villa Gorillas. They pranced around the King James Mall wearing their plaid jumpers and naughty-girl kneesocks like they were sooo sexy, making eyes at every available (and unavailable) guy. Every Gorilla was thinner and blonder and more beautiful than the next, and the rumor was that they were all incredibly sexually talented. A lot of people had theories as to why: The holy water the nuns blessed them with actually contained an ancient aphrodisiac. Their uniforms were too tight in all the right places. They all had über-strict parents who forbade them to speak to any boy, anytime, and they were dying for male interaction. Apparently, Kate, Hanna’s stepsister, knew a few girls from the school, but Kate had decided to stay home to do a community service project with her boyfriend, Sean Ackard, instead of going on the cruise.

“Hey!” Mike looked excited as he nudged Hanna. “Maybe your roommate is someone from Villa Louisa!”

“Then you’re never coming in my room,” Hanna joked. But she felt a little worried. Everyone on the cruise had been assigned roommates randomly—Jeremy had boasted that he’d personally pulled names out of a captain’s hat. No one had known who they’d be stuck with until they got on the ship. There had been no sign of Hanna’s roommate when she’d put her stuff down this morning.

Rooming with a Villa Gorilla was a terrible possibility. Hanna couldn’t be the uglier roommate. And she felt like she was skating on thin ice with popularity-hungry Mike, anyway, what with everyone snubbing her.

The conversation between Mike and James moved from the Villa girls to the fact that several people had already had things stolen from their rooms. “It’s not iPads or cell phones, either,” James said. “It’s random crap like shampoo and socks.”

“Dude, I’d better hide my boxers,” Mike joked.

Then James pulled a flask out of his bag. “Want some?” he asked, pushing it toward Mike, though not Hanna. When he unscrewed the cap, the scent of freshly squeezed limes wafted out.

Hanna inhaled the fragrant limes of the margarita—it was one of her favorite aromas, though it had been ages since she’d smelled it. Suddenly, a memory of the last time she really remembered the scent wriggled its way into her mind. The memory was about the other secret she was keeping, the one about Madison last summer.

She’d been in Philly with her dad that day to attend a political rally for one of his cronies—her dad’s campaign hadn’t really ramped up yet, but he’d done his fair share of handshaking and drumming up financial support. Afterward, when her dad had gone to a fancy dinner at the Four Seasons, Hanna had wandered over to South Street, wanting to get lost in the crowd of sightseers. Even though she was psyched that her dad was running for office, the secret from spring break weighed heavily on her. What if someone found out about it?

She’d noticed someone smiling at her from one of the side streets and saw an attractive guy standing in front of a bar called the Cabana. He was cute in that clean-cut, interchangeable-frat-boy way.