Sara Shepard - Burned

“My name is Jordan Richards,” the girl said. “I snuck on this boat because I had no money. I didn’t think it would actually work, but now I’m here, and I don’t have a room, and …”

Then she stepped into the moonlight. She had large green eyes, full lips, and thick, dark hair held back by a velvet headband. She wore a white eyelet dress and ballet flats with grosgrain trim.

Emily gasped. “ You? ”

“Me,” the girl answered, and then faintly smiled. Ghost Girl.

Emily sank down to her bed, trying to focus. “You snuck on the boat?” she repeated.

Ghost Girl—Jordan—nodded. “This morning. I wanted to come on the cruise, but my parents didn’t have the money.” She made a wry face. “Actually, they didn’t want to spend the money. We’re not exactly close.”

“Okay,” Emily said slowly. “How did you get on ?”

Jordan leaned against the wall next to the closet. “There was so much confusion when everyone was checking in that I thought, What if I just walked on? Would anyone notice? So I did. But then the ship pulled away from the dock, and I panicked. I didn’t have my passport. I didn’t have any stuff. And I didn’t have a room to sleep in. I was screwed.”

“Don’t you know other people on the ship who could help you out?”

Jordan shook her head. “I just moved to the Philly area a few weeks ago, so I don’t really know anyone yet.”

“What school are you going to?” Emily asked.

“Ulster,” Jordan said, staring absently out the little circular porthole.

A crack formed in Emily’s brain when she looked at Z-J’s bag again. “You were the person stealing stuff from people’s rooms, right?”

Jordan looked sheepish. “A lot of people left their doors open while moving in,” she said. “It was easy to slip in and out of the rooms. That’s how I got into your room, too. I camped out here for a couple hours and took a nap.” She grabbed Z-J’s bag and a couple of other duffels from inside the closet. “Anyway, I’ll let you get some rest now. Sorry I freaked you out.”

“Wait!” Emily caught her arm before she could go. “D-do you want to stay here?”

Jordan froze, halfway standing. “For the night?”

“For … maybe longer than the night,” Emily blurted. “I have a feeling my roommate isn’t going to sleep here much. There’s a spare bed.”

Jordan squinted. “Why would you do that?”

Emily traced her finger over the threads on the comforter. She’d surprised herself by asking, but maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea. She felt sorry for Jordan, definitely, but she was also lonely being in the room by herself. Besides, Emily found it almost impossible to take her eyes off Jordan’s high cheekbones, her kissable lips—in a platonic way, of course.

Her cheeks flushed, and she was suddenly afraid Jordan could read her thoughts. “We can’t have you sleeping on a chaise by the pool.” She patted the bed next to hers. “It’s yours if you want it.”

Jordan nodded slowly. “I’d love that, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure,” Emily said, and then, because she thought it sounded buddy-buddy, added, “roomie.”

Jordan held her gaze. “Roomie,” she repeated, as if it were an antiquated word she’d never heard before. Then she stood up, walked toward Emily, and gave her a huge hug. “Thank you so much. This is wonderful.”

Emily remained as stiff as she could, though she wanted to bury her face in Jordan’s neck and inhale the sweet scent of her skin. “You’re welcome so much,” she said back.

But really, it was Jordan she should have been thanking.

The following morning, Spencer and her roommate, Kirsten Cullen, stepped out of their room and started toward the elevators. The air smelled of lingering shampoo from people’s bathrooms; bacon, eggs, and coffee from the restaurant; and sunscreen. The turquoise sky and navy-blue sea loomed large out the huge windows at the end of the corridor, and the hallway walls were papered with flyers reminding everyone to sign up for the end-of-cruise talent show. Spencer made a mental note to sign up their hula routine later that day.

Kirsten stretched her arms over her head and let out a low moan. “I am so jealous of you for not getting seasick last night. I’m exhausted. I don’t even know if I’ll be able to dive today!”

Spencer nudged her playfully. “We’re at sea. Where do you think we’re going to dive?” The two of them were taking scuba, which counted as a class credit, and they were headed for the first lesson, which was taking place in one of the fitness centers. Spencer was overjoyed that she’d been randomly paired with Kirsten, especially hearing about her friends’ matches. Field hockey buddies for years, she and Kirsten had already roomed together when traveling to out-of-state games.

“This is just a getting-to-know-you, everyone-try-on-the-equipment, here-are-some-water-safety-tips kind of thing,” Spencer added knowingly. “I’ve been through plenty of these before.” Spencer had gotten her scuba certification at fourteen; she could probably write the book on scuba safety.

After getting off on the top floor, they passed one of the restaurants, which teemed with guys loading their plates at the buffet line, girls whispering at the tables, and kids flirting and gossiping near the espresso bar. Then Spencer spied someone’s tall, straight back in front of the giant aquarium, and she suppressed a nervous squeak.

“Reefer?” she called out, her voice cracking only a little.

Reefer turned. His whole face lit up when he caught sight of her. This was the first time they’d seen each other on the boat. They’d tried to connect yesterday, but, like Kirsten, Reefer had spent the evening in his room, seasick. “Can I walk you to scuba?” Reefer asked, a little bashfully.

“Sure,” Spencer said, trying to temper her smile. She glanced at Kirsten to see if it was okay, but Kirsten had tactfully walked on.

“Oh, and surprise.” Reefer proffered a smoothie from behind his back. “This is for you. It’s banana-papaya.”

“My favorite,” Spencer breathed, thrilled he’d remembered. She’d mentioned liking those flavors together just once on the phone.

Their hands touched as she took it from him. Chills zinged up Spencer’s spine. She snuck a peek at Reefer’s face, taking in his chiseled jaw and his amber-colored eyes. This was the first time she’d laid eyes on him since Princeton—since she’d realized she liked him. How could she have not remembered his strong shoulders or how pink and kissable his lips were? Why hadn’t she taken note of the cute freckles on his cheeks? Even his dreadlocks, threadbare hemp sneakers, and oversized tie-dyed shirt were suddenly endearing.

She pushed a lock of hair behind her ear, feeling the back of her neck redden. “Um, how are you feeling?” she blurted, suddenly needing to fill the silence. “You must have been bummed to miss out on the Welcome Party.” She’d almost been tempted to knock on his cabin door with a glass of ginger ale and some Dramamine, but she’d worried that might seem too forward.

“Eh, it’s all good,” Reefer said, starting down the hall toward the scuba class. “I watched movies on pay-per-view. Did you get sick? Those waves were pretty vicious.”

Spencer shook her head. “I’ve never been seasick. I’m used to boats.”

“Lucky,” Reefer sighed. “Have you been diving for a while?”

Spencer nodded. “I’ve been certified for a couple years. I’m hoping to go on some private dives without the rest of the group. I don’t really like diving around a lot of people.”