Burned (5 page)

“
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.

“Drinks are half-off right now,” he said, pointing to the bar. “Come in for happy hour.”

“Uh, I have a boyfriend,” Hanna said quickly.

One corner of the guy’s mouth turned up. “I’m the bartender. I’m just on a break right now. I’m not trying to hit on you.”

Hanna peered into the bar. It wasn’t really her type of place—there was an outdated Phillies schedule in the window, a naked girl–silhouette doormat at the front door, and the smell of stale beer and cigarettes. But there was an old-timey jukebox in the back playing a classic country song. No one knew, but old country songs were her weakness. She wanted to sit in the darkness and not think for a while. Besides, this didn’t seem like the kind of place anyone from her dad’s campaign would go, meaning they wouldn’t catch her.

So she followed the guy in. A couple of downtrodden-looking men and women nursed beers at the bar, and two guys were halfheartedly playing darts in the back.

The bartender who’d coaxed her inside had now taken his post behind the counter. “I’m Jackson, by the way,” he’d said. “What can I get you?”

Hanna didn’t really want anything to drink, but she asked for a margarita anyway. As she inhaled the drink’s syrupy sweetness someone called out from the other end of the bar, “Watch out. Those things are super potent.”

It was a slender girl a few years older than Hanna with wide blue eyes and high cheekbones. There was something sporty about her broad shoulders, freshly scrubbed skin, and high blond ponytail. She nudged her chin toward Hanna’s drink. “Seriously. Jackson should have warned you.”

Hanna licked her fingers clean. “Thanks. I’ll remember that.”

The girl grabbed her cocktail, got up, and slid into a seat next to her. “He’s kind of cute.”

Hanna shrugged. “He looks like he rows crew. Not my thing.”

The girl sipped her drink. “I dare you to ask him to do a shot with us.”

“That’s okay,” Hanna said quickly. She wasn’t in the partying mood.

The girl cocked her head. “Is someone scared?”

Hanna flinched. Ali used to dare Hanna, Emily, Aria, and Spencer to do all kinds of things they didn’t want to do, teasing that they were scared when they refused. She always made them feel like such losers.

“Fine.” Hanna flagged Jackson over and ordered three lemon drops—one for him, too. The bartender and the girl knocked theirs back, but Hanna dumped hers on the floor when they weren’t looking.

The girl sloppily wiped her mouth and gave Hanna an approving grin. “What’s your name, anyway?”

“Olivia.” Hanna blurted out the first name that came to mind. It was the name of her father and Isabel’s wedding planner, whom she’d spoken with earlier that day.

“I’m Madison.” Madison raised her empty shot glass. “I’m having one last hurrah before I head back to Penn State. I’m on academic probation there, and if they catch you with even the teensiest bit of alcohol on your breath, they go ballistic. Where do you go to school?”

“Temple.” It was another think-fast answer—Emily was starting a summer program at Temple next week.

Madison asked Hanna more questions about herself, and Hanna made up more details. She said she was a cross-country runner, that she wanted to be a lawyer, and that she lived in Yarmouth, which was near Rosewood but
not
Rosewood. It felt good to slip into someone else’s identity for a few hours. This fictitious Olivia didn’t have two murderous BFFs and various stalkers. Her life seemed so enviously simple. The only real thing she shared was that she was going on a trip to Reykjavik, Iceland, soon with Aria, Noel, and Mike. “Is that the place where you can smoke pot in the streets?” Madison asked excitedly.

Hanna shook her head. “No, that’s Amsterdam.” Madison looked disappointed.

Madison told Hanna that she lived in the area, though she didn’t say where. At first, she put on a good face about going back to school next fall, but as she downed drink after drink, her enthusiasm seemed forced and manufactured.

Within an hour, Madison became aggressively flirtatious with every guy at the bar—especially Jackson, who she said shopped at the store where she worked. Eventually, she slurred her words, dropped things, and spilled her sixth drink across the bar. As Hanna ran for napkins, Jackson scooped up the empty glass. Hanna wanted to tell him to cut Madison off—she could barely stand up.

“We’re taking a quick break, but we’ll be right back!” the steel drum player boomed, jarring Hanna from her thoughts. She looked around. The plate of fries was now empty. James was gone, and Mike was fiddling with his cell phone. She gritted her teeth, annoyed she’d given Madison any thought. Hadn’t she just told herself
not
to think about all the crappy things in her past?

“I still have no signal,” Mike grumbled, punching buttons. “What if it stays this way through the whole trip?”

“The crew told us the service is spotty,” Hanna reminded him. “Besides, why do you need your phone so badly right now? Are you secretly texting with a Villa girl?”

“Never,” Mike said, then stood. “I’m going to unpack. Wanna meet up later in your room?” His eyes danced playfully.

“Yes, but only if my roommate
isn’t
a Villa girl,” Hanna said. “I’ll let you know.”

Then she headed toward her cabin, which was two decks down and through a labyrinth of hallways. On her way there, she spied Zelda Millings, a cool girl from Doringbell Friends who was always at Noel Kahn’s parties. “Hey, Zelda!” she called out.

Zelda looked at Hanna, then sniffed and pretended to talk on her cell phone. Hanna glanced around, horrified that someone might have seen.

As she slipped the keycard into the lock and opened the door, the room looked different than when she’d left it. The lights Hanna had turned off were on again, and the TV was blaring.

“Hello?” Hanna called tentatively, peering around. Someone had dumped their suitcase on the second bed. A pair of bright-yellow skinny jeans lay on the floor. A silky scarf, several T-shirts—in size extra-small—and a pair of espadrilles were spread across the mattress. Hanna’s gaze scanned the rest of the room. There wasn’t a plaid Catholic schoolgirl uniform in sight.
Yes
.

“Hello?” she called again, more happily this time.

A figure appeared in the balcony doorway. “
Hanna?
”

Hanna’s eyes adjusted. Standing before her, in a cloud of her signature Kate Spade Twirl, was a girl with long, supple limbs, white-blond hair, and ice-blue eyes. It was someone Hanna hadn’t prepared for at all.

“Oh,” Hanna said stupidly. It wasn’t a Villa girl. It was Naomi Zeigler.

She braced herself, waiting for an insult to spew from Naomi’s mouth—probably something about her being a stalker. Or maybe Naomi would groan and march out of the room, disappointed that she’d gotten stuck with Hanna, the ship’s biggest dork.

But the corners of Naomi’s lips edged up in a grin. “Oh thank
God
,” she blurted, slumping in relief. “I was so afraid they were going to stick me with someone like Chassey Bledsoe!”

She strode up to Hanna and linked her arm through her elbow, which was stiff with caution. “I am
so
glad you’re here,” Naomi gushed. She squeezed Hanna’s arm. “I need someone to party with. What do you say?”

Hanna licked her lips. She wanted to ask Naomi where her BFF, Riley Wolfe, was, but now that she thought about it, she hadn’t seen Riley anywhere. Maybe she hadn’t come.

She glanced at her reflection in the mirror over the bureau. Her auburn hair hung glossily down her back, the zits on her forehead seemed to have suddenly cleared up, and her arms looked toned and trim, not bloated from stress eating. Even though Naomi was probably glomming on to Hanna because her other friends weren’t aboard, it had been a long time since a popular girl had begged her to hang. And with everyone still snickering about her little stalking episode, the offer felt even more tantalizing. With Naomi at her side, she’d become a queen bee again in no time. And isn’t that what she’d wanted, forever?

I’m Hanna Marin, and I’m fabulous
, she used to say when she was friends with Mona. And, okay, maybe she didn’t feel
quite
as fabulous these days, but surely she still had a little bit of sparkle left in her.

She turned to Naomi and squeezed her arm back. “Let’s party.”

At 10
P.M
. that same night, Emily stood on the Fiesta Deck next to Spencer, Aria, and Hanna at the Welcome to Paradise Luau. Fragrant leis hung in loops from the archways. Palms sprouted out of brightly painted pots. Pink and yellow strobe lights flashed from the ceiling. The place was so stuffed that Emily had had her toes stepped on a zillion times. The air had a sweaty, humid quality to it, and every few seconds a flash popped.