Emily swung around. There, under the boat’s exit sign, was Jordan, dressed in a T-shirt Emily had loaned her, a pair of jeans, a baseball cap, and dark sunglasses. Emily’s knees went weak. Jordan’s mouth crumpled into a relieved, ecstatic smile. Emily ran into her arms.
“So does this mean you’re coming?” Jordan said in Emily’s ear.
“I guess it does,” Emily said shakily.
Jordan stepped back and pulled her cell phone from her bag. “This is going to be amazing,” she said excitedly, her eyes shining. “I promise.”
Then she dialed a number and put her phone to her ear. “Hello, Jasmine? I’d like to book an extra ticket to Thailand. Her name is Emily Fields.” She spelled it slowly. “I’ll pay in cash at the airport, okay?”
Emily opened her mouth, ready to say she’d help pay, but then she realized—she didn’t have that kind of money. She didn’t know how Jordan had access to that kind of money, either, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
The line for the door slowly moved up. Emily grabbed Jordan’s hand so she wouldn’t lose her in the crush. As they got closer, Emily could see the docks out the door. The light was so bright, she had to shade her eyes. When it was their turn, Jordan started off the ramp first. Emily followed, her heart pounding. Jordan was halfway down the ramp when she stopped short. Emily bumped into her back.
“What’s wrong?” Emily asked. Kids flowed around them like water moved around rocks in a stream.
Jordan’s face had gone ghostly pale. Her gaze was on something out in the water. Emily craned her neck to see what she was looking at. A speedboat was docked next to the ship. A few men in serious-looking uniforms were climbing off. One was speaking into a walkie-talkie. The other looked like he had a gun in his holster. The boat had an official-looking logo on the side. FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION.
Emily clapped her hand over her mouth. She watched, paralyzed, as the Feds charged up the dock, straight to the ship. And then she heard one of them say “Katherine DeLong” clearly into his walkie-talkie.
Jordan whipped around to face her. “Did you call them?”
“Of course not!” Emily cried, her eyes widening. “You know I wouldn’t do that to you!”
Jordan’s gaze flicked from Emily to the Feds and then Emily once more. “I know you wouldn’t,” she admitted. “But … I don’t understand. You’re the only one here who knows who I am.”
A cold, hard knot formed in the pit of Emily’s stomach. She wasn’t the only one. Someone else had known for a while now. Emily should have warned Jordan as soon as A taunted her with that first note, but she’d been too selfish.
The first FBI agent barreled quickly down the dock, his face bright red. Jordan grabbed Emily’s hand hard. “Come on,” she said through her teeth. “We have to get away from them.”
She pulled Emily back into the ship and through a stairwell door. They raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. At first, Emily dragged her heavy bag behind her, but then she ditched it in the stairs because it was slowing her down. They finally stopped at Deck 5, where the theater and a bunch of the restaurants were. Kids were at the buffet line and putting in their orders at the sandwich station.
Jordan raced past them and skidded around the corner toward the state rooms. Something banged behind them. “Stop right there!” a voice boomed.
On instinct, Emily froze. Both Feds had burst through the stairwell doors and were starting for Jordan. The kids at the buffet paused, agape. Someone dropped a plate. One girl even screamed.
Emily’s legs felt glued to the floor. In seconds, Jordan was going to be caught. She was going to be caught, too.
She jerked her head to the side, hating herself for even thinking it. As she glanced at Jordan, Jordan gave her a mournful smile. “It’s okay,” she said softly. “Run. Pretend you’ve never seen me before.”
“No!” Emily cried, ashamed that Jordan sensed the thought that had crossed her mind. “I’m not going to abandon you like that!”
But Jordan just darted toward the ship railing. “Stop right there, Miss DeLong,” the tall agent commanded.
Jordan groped for the railing, her eyes hard. There was something feral about her expression, like she was a cornered, wild animal looking for an escape. Everyone in the cafeteria stared. And then, Jordan hurdled herself to the top of the railing. She balanced there for a moment, gazing at the lapping waves below. It was then that Emily realized what she was about to do.
“No!” she screamed, lunging forward.
But she was too late. Jordan’s body disappeared over the side of the ship. Seconds later, there was a splash. Everyone ran to look over the side. The turquoise sea rolled against the boat. Huge rafts of seaweed floated on the surface.
Please come up, please come up, Emily willed, searching for Jordan’s head. But it didn’t appear.
“Where’d she go?” someone asked beside her.
“That’s a really long jump,” another person said. “Maybe she didn’t make it.”
The Feds had already thundered back down the stairs, heading for their boat. Emily gripped the railing tightly, scanning the waves for Jordan. There was an ugly brown froth on the surface of the sea. A fish jumped out of the waves. But there was no sign of Jordan.
At least a hundred kids were peering over the side to see if Jordan would surface. Emily wanted to scream at them, make them turn away. How could this have happened? Who could have tipped off the police? Instantly, the answer came to her. She’d be stupid to think it was anyone else.
As if on cue, her phone pinged. Emily yanked it from her purse and glared at it angrily, hating the message she knew she was going to see.
Oops! Did I go “overboard” by calling the authorities, Em? Sorry!—A
26
THE BENDS
That afternoon, despite the fact that she still had a teensy bit of gum in her hair and her ankle hurt like hell, Spencer sat in a fishing boat with the other members of the dive class. They had motored to a small set of naturally formed coves in an uninhabited part of the island. The rocks looked slick and wet, and the empty turquoise sea spread out behind them. The spot was beautiful, but it was also eerily remote.
Tim cut the boat’s engine. “I’ve saved the most picturesque dive for last. The coral in this cove is amazingly preserved and in perfect health. See if you can spot all the angelfish—this is where they like to hang out. Is everyone ready?”
Everyone murmured yes, and Tim led them through the meticulous checks of their gauges and tanks. After he finished, Tim gazed at Spencer. “Do you and Reefer want to go down first?”
Reefer. Spencer peeked at him across the boat. Reefer was sitting next to Naomi, pointedly avoiding her gaze. They hadn’t said a word to each other since Spencer broke up with him. She would have skipped the last dive altogether, but ditching out would mean she wouldn’t pass the course. And even though her future at Princeton seemed secure, she wasn’t putting it past A to try and screw it up once again.
A—meaning Naomi. Spencer glowered at Naomi, who was possessively holding Reefer’s arm. Happy now? she wanted to snap. You got exactly what you wanted, like you always do.
Instead, she shot Tim a tight smile. “Can Kirsten be my partner instead?”
Tim glanced at Kirsten, who was sitting with her partner, a girl named Jessica. “It’s cool,” Jessica said, and Kirsten stood up and grabbed her swim fins.
“The only thing I ask is that no one strays from the group, okay?” Tim said as he moved out of the way for the girls to climb into the water. “These currents can be very dangerous. I don’t want anyone getting swept away.”
A hand went up in the back. “But I heard there’s even more amazing coral a few coves over,” a short-haired guy with a pierced eyebrow said. “Can we check it out together?”
“Definitely not.” Tim’s eyebrows furrowed. “The coral in those coves is really sharp—someone could hurt themselves. It’s also really deep over there—not safe for novice divers. Stay where I can see you at all times, okay?”
Spencer sighed. That meant she’d have to stay in sight of Reefer and Naomi, too.
She grabbed a dive mask from the milk crate and pulled the strap over her head. Then she and Kirsten sat on the side of the boat, counted to three, and flipped backward into the water.
The water was cool on Spencer’s skin, and she felt herself sinking down, down, down. She opened her eyes, sucked in a breath, and looked around. Tropical fish darted to and fro. Fingerlike seaweed waved in an elegant ballet. She located Kirsten a few yards away and waved. Kirsten gestured to Spencer’s tank and raised her eyebrows—as partners, they were supposed to keep an eye on each other’s gauges. But Spencer just shook her head—they’d been in the water for only a few minutes. There was no need to check the controls yet. What she really needed was a few moments of being truly and purely alone. She turned toward the cove the boy in the boat had been talking about, eager to check out the vast depths. Screw the rules.
She watched everyone else on the boat descend into the water, including Naomi and Reefer. Once Tim’s back was turned, she swam gracefully away from the group, and for a few minutes, all she could hear was the sounds of her mechanized breathing. Bubbles floated across her field of view. A school of small, neon-pink fish darted past, followed by a sinuous manta ray. Spencer swam even deeper until she was face-to-face with the coral.
Unbidden, a memory popped into her head. At the beginning of sixth grade, when they’d first become friends, the Hastingses and the DiLaurentises both took a trip to their vacation homes in Longboat Key, Florida, for a long weekend, and Ali and Spencer had taken a scuba class. As they’d walked down the dock, Ali had nudged her side and pointed to an icy blonde leading the group. “For a second, I was afraid that was Naomi Zeigler,” she’d whispered. “Her family has a condo here, you know.”
Spencer had looked at Ali. “Why aren’t you friends with her anymore?”
“We had a fight,” Ali answered simply, adjusting her bikini strap.
“About what?” Spencer asked.
Ali shrugged. “Naomi knows what she did.”
She never elaborated further. Now Spencer understood that it had been Courtney talking, a girl who’d never known Naomi. There had never been a fight—Naomi had never done anything.
Or … had she? There had been something so chilling about Courtney’s voice when she spoke about Naomi, a rawness not even the best actress could fake. Had she identified something dangerous about Naomi when she’d arrived in Rosewood? Was there more to the story than Spencer knew?
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?
