Burned (7 page)

“Don’t you know other people on the ship who could help you out?”

Jordan shook her head. “I just moved to the Philly area a few weeks ago, so I don’t really know anyone yet.”

“What school are you going to?” Emily asked.

“Ulster,” Jordan said, staring absently out the little circular porthole.

A crack formed in Emily’s brain when she looked at Z-J’s bag again. “You were the person stealing stuff from people’s rooms, right?”

Jordan looked sheepish. “A lot of people left their doors open while moving in,” she said. “It was easy to slip in and out of the rooms. That’s how I got into your room, too. I camped out here for a couple hours and took a nap.” She grabbed Z-J’s bag and a couple of other duffels from inside the closet. “Anyway, I’ll let you get some rest now. Sorry I freaked you out.”

“Wait!” Emily caught her arm before she could go. “D-do you want to stay here?”

Jordan froze, halfway standing. “For the night?”

“For … maybe
longer
than the night,” Emily blurted. “I have a feeling my roommate isn’t going to sleep here much. There’s a spare bed.”

Jordan squinted. “Why would you do that?”

Emily traced her finger over the threads on the comforter. She’d surprised herself by asking, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. She felt sorry for Jordan, definitely, but she was also lonely being in the room by herself. Besides, Emily found it almost impossible to take her eyes off Jordan’s high cheekbones, her kissable lips—in a platonic way, of course.

Her cheeks flushed, and she was suddenly afraid Jordan could read her thoughts. “We can’t have you sleeping on a chaise by the pool.” She patted the bed next to hers. “It’s yours if you want it.”

Jordan nodded slowly. “I’d
love
that, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Emily said, and then, because she thought it sounded buddy-buddy, added, “roomie.”

Jordan held her gaze. “Roomie,” she repeated, as if it were an antiquated word she’d never heard before. Then she stood up, walked toward Emily, and gave her a huge hug. “Thank you so much. This is wonderful.”

Emily remained as stiff as she could, though she wanted to bury her face in Jordan’s neck and inhale the sweet scent of her skin. “You’re welcome so much,” she said back.

But really, it was Jordan she should have been thanking.

The following morning, Spencer and her roommate, Kirsten Cullen, stepped out of their room and started toward the elevators. The air smelled of lingering shampoo from people’s bathrooms; bacon, eggs, and coffee from the restaurant; and sunscreen. The turquoise sky and navy-blue sea loomed large out the huge windows at the end of the corridor, and the hallway walls were papered with flyers reminding everyone to sign up for the end-of-cruise talent show. Spencer made a mental note to sign up their hula routine later that day.

Kirsten stretched her arms over her head and let out a low moan. “I am
so
jealous of you for not getting seasick last night. I’m exhausted. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to dive today!”

Spencer nudged her playfully. “We’re at sea. Where do you think we’re going to dive?” The two of them were taking scuba, which counted as a class credit, and they were headed for the first lesson, which was taking place in one of the fitness centers. Spencer was overjoyed that she’d been randomly paired with Kirsten, especially hearing about her friends’ matches. Field hockey buddies for years, she and Kirsten had already roomed together when traveling to out-of-state games.

“This is just a getting-to-know-you, everyone-try-on-the-equipment, here-are-some-water-safety-tips kind of thing,” Spencer added knowingly. “I’ve been through plenty of these before.” Spencer had gotten her scuba certification at fourteen; she could probably write the book on scuba safety.

After getting off on the top floor, they passed one of the restaurants, which teemed with guys loading their plates at the buffet line, girls whispering at the tables, and kids flirting and gossiping near the espresso bar. Then Spencer spied someone’s tall, straight back in front of the giant aquarium, and she suppressed a nervous squeak.

“Reefer?” she called out, her voice cracking only a little.

Reefer turned. His whole face lit up when he caught sight of her. This was the first time they’d seen each other on the boat. They’d tried to connect yesterday, but, like Kirsten, Reefer had spent the evening in his room, seasick. “Can I walk you to scuba?” Reefer asked, a little bashfully.

“Sure,” Spencer said, trying to temper her smile. She glanced at Kirsten to see if it was okay, but Kirsten had tactfully walked on.

“Oh, and surprise.” Reefer proffered a smoothie from behind his back. “This is for you. It’s banana-papaya.”

“My favorite,” Spencer breathed, thrilled he’d remembered. She’d mentioned liking those flavors together just once on the phone.

Their hands touched as she took it from him. Chills zinged up Spencer’s spine. She snuck a peek at Reefer’s face, taking in his chiseled jaw and his amber-colored eyes. This was the first time she’d laid eyes on him since Princeton—since she’d realized she liked him. How could she have not remembered his strong shoulders or how pink and kissable his lips were? Why hadn’t she taken note of the cute freckles on his cheeks? Even his dreadlocks, threadbare hemp sneakers, and oversized tie-dyed shirt were suddenly endearing.

She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, feeling the back of her neck redden. “Um, how are you feeling?” she blurted, suddenly needing to fill the silence. “You must have been bummed to miss out on the Welcome Party.” She’d almost been tempted to knock on his cabin door with a glass of ginger ale and some Dramamine, but she’d worried that might seem too forward.

“Eh, it’s all good,” Reefer said, starting down the hall toward the scuba class. “I watched movies on pay-per-view. Did you get sick? Those waves were pretty vicious.”

Spencer shook her head. “I’ve never been seasick. I’m used to boats.”

“Lucky,” Reefer sighed. “Have you been diving for a while?”

Spencer nodded. “I’ve been certified for a couple years. I’m hoping to go on some private dives without the rest of the group. I don’t really like diving around a lot of people.”

Reefer held the door to the stairwell open for her. “Would you mind some company? I mean, I only got certified last year, but I’m a quick learner, I swear. And I bet you’re a pretty good tour guide.”

Spencer put a finger to her mouth, coyly pretending to contemplate the offer. “But what if I wanted those dives to be private? What do I get in return for bringing you along?”

Reefer paused on the staircase, his eyes sparkling playfully. “How about my most cherished 1977 Grateful Dead concert T-shirt?”

Spencer gave him a skeptical look. “The one you bought off eBay that still smells like pot after all those washings? No thank you.”

“It doesn’t smell like pot!” Reefer urged. “It smells fine. I wear it to school all the time and no one questions me, I swear.”

Spencer secretly felt thrilled at the idea of wearing a T-shirt that Reefer had worn, too. It seemed so …
boy-friendly
.

They’d reached the door to the Seahorse Gym, the site of the first scuba class, by then. Elliptical machines, stair climbers, and treadmills lined the window wall, and about thirty folding chairs stood on the mats. Kirsten was in the front row, filing her nails. Quite a few kids grabbed coffee and bagels from a catered tray in the back. Tim, the instructor Spencer had met at the Activity Fair the day before, stood over a couple of cardboard boxes, sorting through oxygen tanks and wetsuits.

Spencer faced Reefer again, feeling a tingly, excited rush. Reefer was smiling at her, too.

Then she was suddenly gripped with a wonderful idea. She touched Reefer’s arm. “Let’s ditch.”

Reefer widened his eyes. “
Class?
”

“We both already know how to dive. Why not?”

Reefer, clapped a hand over his mouth, feigning shock. “Aren’t you the girl who’s gotten the Perfect Attendance award every year?”

Spencer shrugged. “I’m on vacation.” She could just picture it: grabbing Reefer’s hand and pulling him down to one of the lower lounges, which were probably empty at this time of morning, and sitting in a back booth. They’d gossip about people on the boat, plan outings for after their dives, and then their heads would move closer together, and then …

“
Raif?
”

It was coming from someone inside the classroom. Reefer turned. His eyebrows shot up, and he took a step through the door.

“It
is
you!” a girl whooped. “Oh my God!”

“Wow!” Reefer said. And then he was hugging her.
Really
hugging her. Spencer stood in the doorway, feeling like a forgotten child’s toy tossed out a car window.

She cleared her throat a little more loudly than she meant to, and Reefer turned around, his dreadlocks bouncing. “Oh, Spencer. Sorry. This is—”

“Naomi,” Spencer blurted, staring at the girl who had stepped into view. She gave Spencer a haughty, threatening look.

“Hi, Spencer,” Naomi chirped. “You’re taking scuba, too?”

“Uh, yeah,” Spencer mumbled, eyeing Naomi’s fingers, which were grazing Reefer’s. She glanced at the door, considering ditching without him.

But suddenly, it didn’t seem like a very fun idea at all.

That morning, Aria and about thirty other kids stood in the shade of the giant pink waterslide on the top deck of the cruise ship, eagerly awaiting the start of the Eco Scavenger Hunt. The air smelled like wood-floor cleaner, spicy deodorant, and boat fuel that the captain had insisted was totally eco-friendly, though Aria had her doubts. Everyone fanned their faces, applied high-powered sunscreen to ward off the punishing Caribbean sun, and chattered excitedly about what the activity was going to entail.

Finally, the activity leader got off her cell phone and turned to the group. “Welcome!” she cried, her freckly face breaking into a smile. “My name is Gretchen Vine, and you guys are in for a treat. Think of this hunt like
The Amazing Race
—we give you clues and cash to get to your destination, and the first group to figure out all the riddles wins.”

“Wins what?” a brunette girl whose string bikini straps peeked out from underneath her shirt asked.

Gretchen smiled and unveiled two white gift certificates to the Apple Store, and everyone oohed. “They’re worth a thousand dollars each.”

Then Gretchen passed out little red wallets that said
ECO TREASURE HUNT
on the front. “Carry your clues in here,” she instructed. “You’ll need to show me what you found at the end of each day.”

“Will we get to do any camping? Extreme hikes? Role-playing?” a boy called.

Gretchen frowned, fiddling with her necklace. “Well, we need you to return to the ship every night—otherwise we’d have to send out a search party. The hikes take you over a lot of terrain, but I wouldn’t call them extreme. And I’m not sure what you mean by role-playing—perhaps you can elaborate?”

The speaker, a guy with longish brown hair and thick eyebrows, waved his hand dismissively. “Forget it.”

Gretchen told them they would have to scour beachheads, traipse over dunes, bushwhack through tropical rain forests, and navigate busy city streets to extract information that would lead them, ultimately, to the prize. Aria exchanged excited glances with kids next to her. There were quite a few couples holding hands in the group, and she felt a longing pang. Maybe Noel would have chosen the scavenger hunt if he had known about the prize.

“Okay, the first thing I need you guys to do is split up into groups of two,” Gretchen said after she’d called roll.

The couples paired up. Other kids turned to people they knew. Aria spun around, but everyone from Rosewood Day had already found partners. Even her roommate, a sweet, quiet girl named Sasha who’d also signed up for the scavenger hunt, had paired up with another bookish-looking girl from her school. As more and more people grouped together, she felt a self-conscious twinge. Years ago, when kids at Rosewood Day teamed up at recess, formed partnerships in art class, or picked groups for an English project, goofy, friendless Aria was often the last to be chosen.
Is it because I have a pink stripe in my hair?
she would wonder.
Or is it because of some innate, loserish quality that I don’t even know I have?

“Those of you who don’t have a partner, raise your hands,” Gretchen announced.

Aria sheepishly lifted her palm a few inches. Several other kids did, too.

Gretchen matched those who didn’t have partners with one another. When she got to Aria, she pointed her toward the guy who’d just asked about camping and role-playing. “You two okay to work together?”

The boy looked at Aria and shrugged. “That’s cool.” He extended a hand to Aria. “I’m Graham Pratt.”

“Aria Montgomery.” She smiled at him. He had pretty hazel eyes and wore gray Toms shoes, beaten-up Army-surplus shorts, and a faded T-shirt with what looked like a shield on the front and a small hole in the shoulder.

“Do I know you from somewhere?” she asked. He seemed familiar, but she couldn’t quite place him. “Do you go to a school on the Main Line?”