Sara Shepard - Burned

“So I’ve asked around, and I found out Tori doesn’t have a boyfriend,” Aria whispered in Graham’s ear. “You’re totally in.”

Graham’s cheeks reddened. “You asked about her?”

“How else were we going to find out anything?” Aria grabbed a club from the rack. “Now c’mon. Let’s go to the hole right behind them. Then I want you to compliment her on her putting skills.”

“Are you serious?” Graham snickered. “She’s missed getting the ball through the clown’s mouth like six times.”

Aria glared at him. “Don’t you know anything ? When it comes to flirting, you lie ! You say whatever it takes to make girls feel amazing and special!” She rolled her eyes good-naturedly. “You’re hopeless!”

“I bet you’re wondering how I ever had a girlfriend, huh?” Graham teased.

Aria waved her hand, not wanting to talk about Tabitha. “You did great with her on the beach yesterday.” Graham had spoken to Tori for almost ten whole minutes before freaking out and jogging back to Aria, claiming he was afraid they were going to run out of topics. “She seemed into you, too. Now you just have to seal the deal.”

She walked to the hole next to the one Tori was playing. A small windmill spun creakily. The goal was to hit the ball through a tiny gap at the bottom. As she handed Graham the putter, he smiled at her gratefully. “It’s really sweet that you’re doing this for me.”

“I’m glad to help,” Aria chirped, her confidence renewed. How could her friends think Graham was A? Beyond the fact that it didn’t make any sense, he was just too nice . This morning, she’d picked him up at his room, which was right down the hall from Noel’s, and Graham and his roommate, Carson, were playing video games, laughing. Then, Graham said a polite thank-you to the chambermaid who was coming to clean their room. Psychopath stalkers didn’t get along with their roommates and thank the staff, did they?

Tori finally managed to get the ball through the clown’s mouth. As her friends whooped, Aria shoved Graham toward her. “Uh, nice one, Tori!” he said a little stiffly.

Tori looked over, sized Graham up, and smiled. “Hey, Graham.” Then she looked at her putter. “But you’re lying. I suck.”

“You’re better than I am,” Graham offered bashfully.

Tori smiled, then walked to the next hole. Graham spun back to Aria, looking dejected. “See? I’m hopeless!”

“What are you talking about?” Aria said. “You’re doing great!” She picked up her putter, which she’d leaned against the windmill. “Let’s follow them. Maybe they’ll ask us to play with them.”

“Isn’t it going to look really obvious?” Graham whispered. “We didn’t even play this hole!”

“Who cares?” Aria ran her fingertips along the tip of the clown structure as they walked. “It’s not like anyone is taking this seriously, anyway.” She eyed Tori as she plunked down her ball at the tee and swung her club. “Now you have to figure out what she’s interested in. Then pretend you’re interested in it, too.”

She gave him another nudge, and Graham stepped toward Tori again. He waited until she finished her swing—which, as usual, didn’t go anywhere near the hole—and then cleared his throat. “Do you, um, like Renaissance Fairs?”

Aria winced and considered aborting the operation. She didn’t want Graham to impose his interests on her . But Tori brightened. “I’ve only been to one, but it was pretty cool. Why?”

Graham smiled. “I noticed your ankle bracelet and thought you might have bought it at this Renaissance festival outside Philly. There’s a guy there who makes his own silver jewelry. I worked in the booth next to his one summer.”

Tori stepped over the little divider that separated the putting green from the deck and walked closer to Graham. “What do you do at the festival?”

“I do a bunch of things, but at that particular job I helped this old guy build lutes.”

“What’s a lute?”

“They’re small acoustic guitars, only they sound different,” Graham explained. “I brought one on board, actually. I’m going to play a Death Cab for Cutie song on it for the talent show.”

Tori raised an eyebrow. “ Really? ”

Graham started to reply, but suddenly Tori’s phone rang. She glanced at it and rolled her eyes. “It’s my mom,” she said, lifting it to her ear. “She’s called me, like, every day since we left.”

Tori walked toward the waterfall at Hole 12. Graham looked confused. “ Now what do I do?”

“Nothing.” Aria guided him back toward the clubhouse. “Now you have something to talk about the next time you see each other. And your next task is to ask her out on a date.”

A nervous smile slowly spread across Graham’s face. “Okay.” He cuffed Aria’s arm. “What would I have done without you?”

“Just be sure to invite me to the wedding.” Aria slugged Graham’s shoulder in a friendly way. Then, Aria’s phone buzzed in her pocket. Still smiling, she pulled it out and looked at the screen. Two new picture messages .

Her fingers started to tingle, and she looked up, feeling like someone was watching. A shadow slipped behind the windmill. The door to the clubhouse banged loudly. Something moved behind a trellis. But when Aria stared harder, she didn’t notice anything amiss.

She pressed READ. The first picture loaded on the screen. The Cliff Resort’s famous roof deck was in sharp focus, five heads easily visible over the top. The picture was blurry, but Aria could make out her outstretched hands. Tabitha, in her yellow dress, stood next to her, about to topple over.

When Aria hit the right arrow, the next photo appeared. This shot had been taken a split second later, capturing the moment Aria had pushed Tabitha off. Her body hung in midair. Aria remained on the roof deck, her hands on her hips. She looked like a cold-blooded killer.

“Aria?” Graham stood behind her. “Is everything okay?”

Aria jumped and hid the screen with her hand. “Uh, everything’s fine,” she lied.

She stabbed at the keypad to delete both the photos, but for some reason, they wouldn’t disappear. Every time she clicked into her photo gallery again, there they were, front and center. Her heart thudded. Just having them on her phone made her feel like there was a bull’s-eye on her head. She had to get them off.

Her phone beeped again. One new message , a new alert said. Aria pressed READ.

What if a little “birdie” showed these to Graham—and the police? I can—and I will.—A

That afternoon, Emily and Jordan waited at the top of the cliff in the rain forest. A thick layer of trees waved beneath them, frogs croaked from a hidden hollow, and a zip line swayed in the breeze. Emily watched as two kids in front of her grabbed the tandem zip line’s handles and pushed off. They soared through the air, whooping and laughing, and landed safely on the other side of the ravine. It didn’t look like a laughing matter to Emily, though. More like a death trap.

She edged closer to Jordan, who was fidgeting excitedly. “Are you sure we should do this?”

Jordan’s brow furrowed. “You’re not going to chicken out on me now, are you? I’ve wanted to do this for years.”

“What if the lines break?” Emily looked nervously at the chasm below. The instructor had said it was at least a forty-foot drop.

“The lines are superstrong.” Jordan inspected Emily carefully. “You’re really scared, aren’t you?”

Emily swallowed hard. “I had this friend who was sort of crazy. She took me to this gulch earlier this year, and we had a fight, and for a moment I was sure she was going to push me over the edge.” She shut her eyes and thought about that horrible night with Kelsey Pierce.