Burned

The door to the theater swung open, and another acrobat strutted out. She glanced at them and smiled. “Want a clue?”



Aria and Graham nodded eagerly.



The acrobat edged closer. “See that picture there, the one that sort of looks like a dinner fork? It stands for an E. And the image that looks like a carrot stands for the letter S.”



Aria looked at the wall again. “So it’s like a cryptogram?”



“Precisely,” the acrobat said, then pirouetted away.



Aria peered at the symbols. She and her father, Byron, used to do the cryptogram puzzle in the Philadelphia Sentinel every morning. The puzzle always featured a scrambled quote. The trick was to figure out the cipher so it made sense.



When she reached into her purse for a pencil, her fingers brushed against a golf tee from the mini golf course she and Graham had visited the other day. She smacked her forehead. “Graham, I’m so rude! How did it go with Tori last night?” Graham had sent her a text the afternoon before saying that he and Tori had made dinner plans. She’d written him back with a list of things to talk about, adding that he should pull out Tori’s chair when she sat down and never, ever order for her. She couldn’t believe she’d forgotten to ask.



Graham pushed a lock of hair off his forehead. “It was fine.” Then he pointed at a three-letter word with a dinner fork icon in it. “If that stands for E, then that word is the. And so are those two.”



“Oh. Right.” Aria wrote it in, then filled in the Ts and Hs elsewhere in the puzzle, too. She cleared her throat. “So it was just fine? Not amazing?”



“And maybe that’s to.” Graham pointed to a two-letter word starting with T. It was like he didn’t hear her.



“Yep,” Aria said, writing it in. Her stomach sank. Had the date been a disaster? Maybe Graham had talked nonstop about SCA or his dead ex-girlfriend. Maybe Tori had left after the appetizers.



She was dying to ask, but all of a sudden the hall felt too quiet and exposed. They stared at the puzzle for a few minutes longer, writing in more words. Within a few minutes, they had the whole message: Protect the seas. Save the planet. Live life to the fullest.



“Okaaaay.” Graham twisted his mouth. “What are we supposed to do with that?”



“I’ve seen that phrase somewhere,” Aria murmured, shutting her eyes. Then the answer popped into her mind: the banner in the casino, from that first day. She’d noticed it because she’d sworn she’d seen something—or someone—moving in the shadows beneath it.



“Come on,” she said, grabbing Graham’s hand.



The casino was dark and empty, the slot machines buzzing atonally. The banner still hung over the tables. Aria walked beneath it and placed her palms on the table’s surface. When she ran her hand along the underside, her fingers touched cardboard. She squatted down; two cards had been taped right where the tabletop met the legs. She pulled off the tape and held the cards to the light. Congratulations! they both read.



Aria opened one. It was, indeed, a $1,000 gift card to the Apple Store. She waved it at Graham. “We did it!”



Graham threw his fist in the air. Then he scooped Aria up and swung her around. She giggled, but didn’t squeeze him too hard, not wanting to give him the wrong idea. When Graham pulled back, his cheeks were a delighted pink.



“We should celebrate, don’t you think?” he asked. “How about lunch at that restaurant on the upper deck?”



“Well …” Aria’s mouth wobbled. She wanted to tell him that he should do something with Tori instead. She also wanted to see Noel. But Graham seemed so happy. And they had just won.



“I’m in,” she decided, grabbing one of the gift cards from his hand. “Just let me freshen up.”



An hour later, Aria climbed up a spiral staircase to Galileo’s, a little restaurant on a small landing atop the main deck. Twinkling fairy lights were strung around the railing and threaded through potted ficus trees. Kids were sitting at tables, a jazz band was tuning up in the corner, and the walls were plastered with posters advertising the talent show. FIRST PRIZE: VESPA! they all proclaimed.



“Aria?”



Graham appeared behind her, dressed in a blue button-down and a clean pair of jeans. His hair was neatly combed, he’d shaved, and she could smell his woodsy cologne from here. When he saw her, his face twitched nervously. “You look nice.”



“Oh, I wear this old thing all the time,” Aria said, waving her hand at her blue maxi-dress and espadrilles.



Graham walked to the bar and ordered them two ginger ales, then led her to a high table by the railing. Once they sat down, a sly look came over his face, and he produced a flask from his back pocket and shook it. Liquid sloshed inside.



“What is that?” Aria whispered.



“Something to help us celebrate,” Graham said, then paused. “Is that okay?”



Aria must have had a strange look on her face; she was surprised Graham drank. He’d been so adamant about The Cliffs serving alcohol to minors on the Tabitha Clark Memorial website, after all.



“I guess I could have a little,” she said after a moment, and allowed Graham to pour the pungent liquid into her glass. When she took a sip, she nearly coughed. “Yikes.” It had to be about 150 proof.



Graham downed his drink quickly. “I need this right now.”



“Why?” Aria pushed her glass away. “I thought you’d feel pretty relaxed now that we’ve won.” Then she raised an eyebrow. “Is it because you’re nervous about your talent show performance? Playing a Death Cab song on the lute sounds awesome to me.”



“It’s not that,” Graham mumbled.



“Tori’s going to be so into it,” Aria gushed. “Speaking of which, spill it. How did the date really go?”



Graham shrugged one shoulder. “I told you. It was fine. We hit the restaurant on the main deck. She got sushi, I had a turkey burger.”



Aria blinked. Listing the food one had eaten on a date wasn’t a particularly good sign. “Did you have a lot to talk about?”



“I guess.” Graham tore the napkin that had come with his ginger ale to shreds. “To be honest, I’m not really sure I’m into Tori, after all.”



“Why not?” Aria cried. “She seemed perfect for you! And I’m positive she was interested.” She sat back in her chair. “Are you scared to let yourself like someone else because of Tabitha?”



“I’m definitely not scared. She just wasn’t for me.” Graham picked up his glass and drained the rest of the drink. Ice cubes rattled at the bottom of the empty glass. When he set it back down, he gave her a long, piercing look that Aria didn’t understand. “There’s something I need to tell you. Something I’ve been trying to muster up the courage to say all day.”



Aria cocked her head. “What do you mean?”



Graham continued to stare. And then, suddenly, puzzle pieces snapped together in Aria’s head. He likes you, Noel had said. A dude can tell. You might be leading him on and not even know it.



She swung her hands to the right, almost knocking over her glass. “Um, you don’t need to tell me anything,” she said, trying to keep her tone light.



“No, I really need to—”



“We should just have fun tonight,” Aria interrupted, reaching for her drink—all of a sudden, alcohol sounded like a great idea. “Celebrate our win.”



“But …” Graham trailed off abruptly, his eyes widening as he stared at something on Aria’s chest.



She looked down, wishing she’d chosen a dress that didn’t show so much cleavage. “Isn’t the sea rocky tonight?” she asked loudly, gesturing over the rail.



But Graham didn’t take the bait. He pointed at the locket around her neck. “Where did you get that?”



Aria touched it self-consciously. “My boyfriend gave it to me.”



Graham’s hand shot forward. He grabbed the necklace and yanked it closer. The chain pressed against the back of Aria’s neck, forcing her forward. His lips were inches from hers. Aria cried out, turned her head so that he couldn’t kiss her, then wrenched away from him so forcefully that she nearly toppled her barstool.



When she righted herself, Graham was just staring at her again, not apologizing for what he’d done. Aria grabbed her purse, avoiding eye contact. “I have to go.”



Graham stood too. “Aria, wait.”



“Don’t.” Her head started to pound. Suddenly, everything felt so sour and sullied. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”



She tried to wheel around, but Graham caught her arm. She cried out again. When she looked at his face, it was grave, almost angry. “But I have something to tell you,” he demanded.



“You’re hurting me,” Aria said shakily, staring down at his nails in her arm. Her heart thundered in her chest.



Graham released his grip, suddenly looking horrified. She shot away fast, diving for the spiral staircase and clomping down as fast as her high shoes could carry her.



“Aria!” Graham called after her, but she didn’t stop. Only when she got to the bottom did she peer up the stairwell. Graham stood at the top, looking flummoxed. His eyes were wide and sad, the corners of his mouth turned down in a frown.



She skittered away and felt guilt wash over her. Had she led Graham on? Was he crushed now? How had this gone so horribly wrong?



The elevator couldn’t come fast enough. She hit the button again and again, afraid Graham might decide to come and talk to her. Then a tinkling sound of piano keys sounded behind her. There was a baby grand piano in the waiting area, and someone was pressing a high note over and over again. It sounded like the soundtrack to Psycho.



She turned around, ready to tell whoever it was to stop it, but there was no one at the bench. She blinked hard around the empty room—had she heard the sound at all? But no, the sound of a just-plucked piano string echoed in the air. Someone had been playing the piano. And she knew, immediately, who it had been.



24



SOMETHING’S MISSING



“Welcome to Bermuda!” Jeremy’s voice chirped over the speakers that afternoon. The opening bars of “Over the Rainbow” played. Instead of rushing to the railing and waving at everyone on the dock, as Hanna had done every other time they arrived at an island, she remained parked behind a stack of books in the lending library, her gaze trained on her stateroom door down the hall.



“How long are you going to sit like that?” Mike asked, propping his feet up on the oak desk next to her and rifling through an old Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issue.



“I already told you,” Hanna said under her breath. “I’m waiting until Naomi leaves.”



Mike peeked over the centerfold. “You seriously can’t deal with seeing Naomi for even one second? Are you scared of her?”



Hanna glared at him. “You can leave at any time, you know.” When Mike had asked her what she was up to that morning, Hanna said she wanted to check out the library on her floor. Mike had offered to come with her, but after a half hour of watching Hanna stake out her room and not leaf through a single book, he’d caught on to what she was really doing.