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She trailed off, putting her head in her hands. For a while, the only sound in the store was the classical music that played over the speakers. Spencer had looked at her cell phone; she’d received a text from Phineas, a friend she’d made at the University of Pennsylvania summer program she’d enrolled in, asking her if she wanted to go to a party that night. She was about to text him back when she looked over and saw someone standing stock-still in one of the aisles, head cocked. The person slipped out of sight before Spencer could see who it was, but it looked like she had the same color blond hair as Naomi’s.
Now Spencer peered cautiously at Reefer. “I just don’t want anyone mad at me right now.”
Reefer lifted his palms. “Would it help if I told her to back off?”
“Don’t do that!” Spencer said quickly. “I-I just don’t think we should start anything until we get off the ship.”
Reefer looked crushed. “You really think that’s best?”
“I do.”
They stepped away from each other. Reefer turned his back and adjusted the towel around his waist, and Spencer made the mistake of looking at his dewy skin and taut lats. Her stomach swooped. As though pulled by an invisible string, she fell into him again. He pressed her against the wooden wall and kissed her hard.
“I knew you couldn’t resist me,” Reefer joked.
Spencer laughed sheepishly. “Okay, so maybe we make out in private until we get off the boat.”
“If it means making out with you, I’m in.” Then he opened the door. “Let’s go to the pool. My skin feels like it’s boiling off.”
Spencer nodded reluctantly. “But if we see Naomi, we have to leave.”
“Deal.”
They padded down the tiled hall toward the pool area. A bunch of kids were having chicken fights in the shallow end, and girls were tanning on lounge chairs near the bar. There was a squeak under Spencer’s feet, and it wasn’t until she was already in the air that she realized she’d slipped. She fell hard on the tiles, banging her elbow. White-hot pain shot through her ankle.
“Ow!” she shrieked, curling into a ball.
Reefer dropped to his knees. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know.” Spencer touched her foot. It was already swelling up.
“What did you slip on, anyway?” Reefer asked.
“I don’t know.” Spencer looked around for something that had blocked her path, but the corridor was empty. Then the familiar scent of baby oil filled her nostrils. There was a slick puddle a few inches away from where she’d landed. Spencer had taken this route on her way to the sauna, though. The baby oil hadn’t been there a few minutes ago—she was sure of it.
A cold feeling swept over her bones. All at once, a high-pitched giggle swirled down the corridor. As Reefer helped Spencer stand, her phone chimed. She clumsily removed it from her beach bag and read the new text.
Careful, careful! I might just slip, too—and tell.—A
19
DEAD MAN’S FLOAT
“Aria?” Noel called from outside a small striped changing tent near the pool deck. “Are you coming?”
“I don’t know,” Aria said, staring down at her body in the purple string bikini Hanna had insisted she buy for the trip. She’d been so busy with the scavenger hunt that she hadn’t worn it yet, but now she felt self-conscious. It was skimpier than any suit she’d ever worn, the legs cut high, the top cut low.
“How can I teach you how to swim if you don’t come out of the dressing room?” Noel pointed out.
It was Saturday afternoon, and Aria and Noel had just finished their lunch shift at the café and finally had some time to spend together. When Noel suggested teaching Aria how to swim properly, Aria thought he was kidding. “I’m the best teacher ever, I promise,” he’d insisted.
She emerged from the tent. The air had turned chilly in the last hour, and the pool area had cleared out. Steam rose from the hot tub. Floating lounge chairs, kickboards, and fun noodles were stacked in plastic bins on the deck. There was something eerie about the emptiness, though—the starfish, dolphin, and octopus decorations on the railings looked angry instead of friendly.
She lowered the towel and dropped it on one of the chaises. Noel, who was dressed in flowered trunks, sucked in a breath. “Whoa.”
“Oh, stop,” Aria said, smiling to herself. She walked to the steps and started into the pool. The water lapped around her toes, then her calves, then her midsection. She ducked her head under and came up sputtering. “Cold!”
“You’ll get used to it.” Noel floated up to her. “Come here,” he whispered, grabbing her around the waist and holding her close.
Aria wrapped her legs around him, feeling weightless and free. They kissed for a long time, the chlorine-filled water brushing against their bodies. In the bowels of the ship, the New Age Cirque du Soleil music started to play.
“Let’s see your swim technique,” Noel said when they broke apart.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Aria waded into the deeper end until her feet no longer touched the bottom. Then her legs flailed wildly. Her arms slashed this way and that. After a while, she settled into a swim stroke that Mike called the Aria Paddle.
When she finally made it to the wall, she turned around. Noel looked horrified. “You really didn’t ever take swim lessons as a kid.”
Aria shook her head. “Mike did, but my parents never insisted on it. I always took sculpting. Or drama. Or hip-hop dance.”
