Burned (9 page)

“The only reason I ask is because I wanted to get a referral,” Naomi added when Hanna didn’t say anything.

Hanna frowned. “For who?”

Naomi looked down. “For myself,” she murmured quietly.

Hanna almost laughed out loud. “
You
binge? Yeah, right.” Naomi was a size 0. Hanna had barely ever seen her
eat
.

Naomi lowered her eyes. “With exercise. It’s something I’ve struggled with on and off for years. I’ve wanted to talk to you about it, actually—you’re the only person I know who’s suffered with it, too. It’s not like I can talk to Riley or Kate about it.”

“I don’t really do it anymore,” Hanna said cautiously.

“I didn’t, either.” Naomi traced her finger around the lip of the glass. “Until last summer. Some weird stuff happened, so I started again.”

Hanna blinked hard. “I’m really sorry,” she said softly, still not quite believing what she was hearing. But Naomi’s expression looked earnest and guileless. Hanna had yearned to talk about bingeing with someone who’d been through it as well, but so far she hadn’t come across anyone who’d admit to it.

“If you ever want to talk about it, I’m here,” she offered after a moment. “I know how hard it is.”

“Thanks,” Naomi murmured, reaching across and squeezing Hanna’s hand.

Just then, Mason Byers stumbled out onto the patio. His hair was mussed, and he was wearing a gold Rosewood Police badge on his lapel. “The name’s Officer Byers, ladies,” he slurred. “Are you two old enough to drink?”

“Of course we are,” Naomi winked.

“Can I see some ID?” Mason demanded.

Mike stuck his head out, too. “We’re making up a strip card game that uses everyone’s fake IDs. Wanna play?” He waved his own fake ID in the air.

“Let me see that.” Hanna stepped back into the room and grabbed for it. Mike had bragged about a new fake ID, but he’d been cagey about showing it to her. She burst out laughing. Quincy Thomas, the name on the card, had a blond crew cut and glasses. The description said he was six foot ten, almost a foot taller than Mike was.

She tossed it back to him. “No one’s going to think that’s you!”

Mike held it protectively to his chest, his cheeks blazing. “All right, smart ass, let’s see yours.”

Hanna reached into her purse and pulled out her own fake ID, which she’d bought last year online
and
which featured her own picture and stats. Mason offered up his ID, too, which he’d gotten in New York City. Other kids added their IDs to the pile. One girl had a very convincing-looking Japanese passport, even though she herself wasn’t Japanese. Erin Bang Bang used her own photo for her fake. The picture was so arresting and model-gorgeous that Hanna guessed no bouncer or bartender would even bother to look at her birth date.
Bitch
.

“Hey, yours is pretty good,” Mike said to Naomi as she dropped hers on the pile. “She even looks like you.”

“That’s because it’s my cousin’s,” Naomi explained. A strange look came over her face. “It’s not like she needs it anymore.”

Hanna glanced at the photo, then did a double-take. Even though she’d seen the girl for only one night, the face was unforgettable. It was like a ghost staring back at her.

Madison.

She backed away, tripping over an upended suitcase and nearly falling on her butt. As she righted herself, her hands were suddenly shaking so badly she had to shove them into the folds of her dress. The room felt hot and close, and so many people were staring at her, Naomi included.

“Um, I have to …” Hanna fumbled past everyone to the door.

She ran to the end of the hall, desperate to catch her breath. Then she noticed a French door that led to a small, open-air courtyard. She slid it open and staggered to a shuffleboard court, leaning over onto her knees.

Madison was Naomi’s
cousin
. And what did Naomi mean when she said she didn’t need the ID anymore? Was she dead?

Beep
.

It was Hanna’s phone. She pulled it out of her purse, figuring it was Mike. But then she looked at the screen.
One new text message from Anonymous
.

“No,” she whispered, scanning the dark courtyard. Then she looked down at the screen. With shaking fingers, she pressed
READ
.

Tuesday evening, Emily and Jordan sat on the bed in Emily’s room. Empty potato chip wrappers from the vending machines were strewn around them, and Jordan had made them virgin banana daiquiris from some drinks she’d found in the mini bar. One of Emily’s swimming mixes was playing through her portable iPod speakers, and Discovery, the only channel that had a signal besides CNN International—which Jordan said she hated—was airing a show about Yosemite Park in the background, though neither girl was watching it.

“Okay, I need a verb,” Emily said, staring down at a book of Mad Libs she’d found at the bottom of her bag, left there from an overnight swimming trip.

“Um,
kissed
,” Jordan said after a moment, popping a chip into her mouth.

Emily wrote
kissed
into the space. “Next I need a noun.”

“
Boobs
,” Jordan said quickly.

Emily laid down her pen and looked at the other words Jordan had chosen.
Sexily, tongue, humping
, and
sensual massage
. “You realize this is a kid’s game, right? Not a porno?”

“What can I say?” Jordan snickered. “I’m inspired by the spirit of Erin Bang Bang. Even
I’ve
heard rumors about how many guys she’s been with.”

Emily shuddered. “Every time I see her, she’s with someone different.”

Jordan glanced at the door. “Are you
sure
she’s not going to mind me staying here?”

Emily shrugged. “I doubt Erin’s going to be back for the rest of the trip, to be honest. And if she
does
come in, we’ll just say you had a fight with your roommate. You can even sleep in my bed if it makes you feel more comfortable.” Her cheeks reddened a little at the suggestion, but surely Jordan knew she meant it in a friendly way, right?

Jordan gave Emily a relieved smile. “You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

Emily rolled her eyes. “You’ve only told me that a zillion times.” Then she stared back down at Mad Libs. “Okay, I need an adverb.”

“
Lustily
,” Jordan spouted quickly, and they both dissolved into laughter.

After Emily penned it in, she breathed in the sudden scent of freshly popped microwave popcorn. Someone must have made some in the kitchen at the end of the hall. “That’s one of my favorite smells,” she mused.

“Mine too,” Jordan said, clutching a pillow. “You got any others?”

Emily thought for a moment. “Rubber balls and gasoline, I guess. And the smell of my old best friend’s bedroom.”

“Alison’s?” Jordan asked.

Emily nodded. She’d told Jordan about Ali almost immediately. It was one of those things she just had to get out of the way when she made new friends these days—everyone had seen
Pretty Little Killer
, the docudrama about what Ali did to them, anyway. “I used to sneak into her bedroom during sleepovers,” she admitted, blushing. “Her room smelled like flowers and powder and just …
her
.”

“You really loved her, huh?”

Emily cast her eyes downward. That was something else she’d admitted to Jordan right away: There was no use in hiding her attraction to girls anymore. It was easy to tell Jordan things, though—she was so accepting of everything that came out of Emily’s mouth. She’d just smiled faintly and said that was fine with her.

She cleared her throat and looked up at Jordan. “I meant to ask you. Do you need to call your parents? I have a phone card you can borrow. They’re probably wondering where you are, right?”

Jordan shrugged. “I said I was staying at a friend’s house for a while. They won’t check up on me.”

“Are you
sure
? For a whole
week
?”

“They probably don’t even notice I’m gone.” Jordan fiddled with her velvet headband. “My parents are way more concerned with their own lives. They don’t really have time for me. Add in the fact that I’m not the perfect daughter they always wanted, and they’d probably rather I was just gone for good.” She said it nonchalantly, finishing with a sarcastic laugh, but the pain was obvious in her voice.

Emily drew a squiggle in the margin. “Sometimes I think my parents want me to disappear, too.”

Jordan looked up at her, clearly waiting for Emily to say more. “I’ve done some stuff to make them really mad,” Emily said vaguely. Even though she’d shared a lot, she wasn’t ready to get into
that
.

But suddenly, Jordan’s face had moved closer. The air smelled heavily of jasmine perfume. “I don’t know why anyone would want
you
to disappear,” she blurted. “No matter
what
you did.”

Emily held her breath, noticing for the first time that Jordan’s eyes were the color of tourmaline gemstones. Then her cell phone let out a few sharp bleeps. She groaned, rolled over, and looked at the screen. Hanna had sent a text.

Emily turned the phone over so Jordan couldn’t see the message. “I-I’ll be back,” she whispered, and was through the door before Jordan could ask what had just happened.

Ten minutes later, Emily stood at the tiki bar, a steady rain pelting the awning above her head. Naturally, the deck was empty. Somewhere down below, she could hear the strains of New Age music from a late Cirque du Soleil performance in the theater.

The elevator doors opened, and Spencer and Aria walked out. They spied her and jogged over, shielding their heads from the rain.

Hanna emerged up a staircase wearing a long sundress, high heels, and an incongruous oversized white hoodie that stretched to her mid thighs. Her eyes were wild, her face was pale, and she held her phone tightly in her right hand. “The bitch somehow made it on board with us,” she snapped when they approached.

She thrust the phone at the girls. Emily stared at the text message on the screen.
Be careful who you hit and run, jailbird. See you on the Fiesta Deck!

Aria squinted at the note. “Hit and run? What is A talking about?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hanna said. “The accident on Reeds Lane? That horrible night in the rain? A knows.”

Emily’s mouth dropped open. The night of Hanna’s accident felt so far removed—it had happened at the beginning of the summer, before anything else. She’d found out she was pregnant just after spring break in Jamaica, and though she’d still been living at home when Hanna had called, she was moving in with Carolyn the following week, much to her sister’s chagrin. When Hanna called Emily, she had almost declined—she had a little belly bulge at the time, and what if the other girls guessed what was going on? It was hard enough to hide it from her parents. Her mother had even commented on Emily’s new billowy-shirt style.

But a split second later, she’d felt terrible. Hanna needed her. And then Aria had called, saying she’d swing by and pick her up, and Emily didn’t know how to say no. In the end, if any of them noticed her belly, no one said anything. They were all too preoccupied with the car crash.

Emily leaned against the bar. “How does A know about that?” she asked, looking at Hanna. They’d been on such a desolate stretch of road, and they’d driven away before the ambulance had arrived. But then more of the night came back to her. They’d possibly hurt the girl. And then they’d run, like it was a prank.

Hanna fiddled with a large, carved tiki-head candle on top of one of the tables. “I’m not sure. But you know that girl in the car, Madison? It turns out she’s Naomi Zeigler’s cousin. Naomi and I have been getting along, and at first I
thought
it seemed suspicious, but then I figured she’d turned over a new leaf. Until I saw her fake ID—it’s Madison’s picture.”

Aria’s brow furrowed. “So you think Naomi was being nice to you because she’s A?”

“I’m not sure,” Hanna said. “But if she’s not, A is going to tell her about the crash. Naomi will turn us in for sure.”

“Yeah, if A doesn’t turn us in first.” Spencer pointed at Hanna’s phone. “A called you
jailbird
.”

“Hanna, did Naomi say anything about the accident?” Aria asked.

“Sort of,” Hanna admitted, looking at Spencer. “She mentioned going through some terrible stuff last summer. And she got this weird look on her face when someone asked her who it was on her fake ID. She was like, My cousin doesn’t need her ID anymore.”

“Like she was dead?” Spencer gasped.

Emily’s eyes widened. “In the crash?”

“She couldn’t have died in the crash.” Hanna’s eyes darted back and forth. “She was still breathing when you guys got to the scene.”

“
Was
she?” Aria squinted. “Did anyone actually check?”

Emily looked around at the others. “I don’t remember if we did or not.”

“I don’t, either,” Aria said.

Spencer’s face was green. “What if we killed her when we moved her?” She slumped against one of the metal posts that propped up the awning. “I
dropped
her.”