“The Crooked Cat Diner,” Emerson answered automatically. “But I can’t go tonight. I’m… busy.”
“Busy? That’s all you’ve got? The Emerson I knew could come up with a better excuse than that in her sleep. What about: I had a hair-straightening emergency? Or there’s a romantic-comedy marathon on TV that I’d die if I missed?”
Emerson smiled despite herself. Josh used to love to tease her about her addiction to romantic comedies—or “troublemakers” as he called them, since, according to him, no guy in the world could live up to the inhuman perfection of a rom-com hero. She found herself answering the way she would have in the past. “What I meant to say was, I don’t have a free second, what with cultivating my ant farm and all.”
“Much better. Now I don’t feel slighted in the least.” Josh fell quiet, leaving an awkward silence hanging in the air. It surprised her; awkwardness never used to be a problem between them. Their conversations would constantly ebb and flow, like the tide going in and out. But that was when there was a them.
“You did promise me an hour,” Josh pressed. “You sure you can’t come out? Even just for a walk?”
Emerson swallowed hard. That had been their thing in New York: traipsing aimlessly around the city until they stumbled upon a hole-in-the-wall Chinese restaurant or a food truck Josh had read about in an issue of TimeOut. “I really can’t tonight,” Emerson answered honestly. I have a date with the darer.
“All right,” Josh conceded. “Tomorrow, then? Or Thursday? Please just agree to some time, so I don’t have to pull a John Cusack and show up at your house carrying a boom box over my head.”
A laugh escaped Emerson. She’d made Josh watch Say Anything, her favorite classic romantic comedy, on one of their first dates in New York. He spent the rest of the summer teasing her about the best scene, where Lloyd Dobler stands under Diane Court’s window, blasting “In Your Eyes” on his boom box. “Good luck finding a boom box in Echo Bay,” she retorted.
“Fine, an iPod, then. I’m still showing up and blasting music loud enough to wake the whole neighborhood.”
“Okay, okay,” Emerson relented. “Tomorrow night. You’ll get your hour.”
“Good.” Josh sounded pleased. “Make sure you’ve finished cultivating your ant farm by then.” Emerson tried to keep a straight face as she hung up the phone, but her lips rebelled, twisting into a smile. Josh hadn’t changed a bit. The problem, of course, was that she had.
A few minutes later she was pulling into the parking lot at the pier. The boat was impossible to miss. It was docked at the end, right next to the yacht club’s large, white deck, and it had been fashioned to look like a submarine. A man in a captain’s uniform stood at the entrance, waving people on. “Welcome aboard the Haunted Explorer!” he bellowed. “Where we travel high and low—well, mostly low—to witness ghosts and ghouls and goblins galore. But beware, the journey may be treacherous.” He lowered his voice to a hushed whisper. “You never know what dangers await you in the sea.…”
A girl who looked to be around ten let out an excited squeal as her parents ushered her into the cabin. Emerson was about to follow them when a black cat suddenly darted past her on the pier. She froze. There was no worse luck than a black cat in your path. She was filled with a desperate urge to turn around and race straight home. But she couldn’t risk the darer’s wrath. Black cat or not. She gritted her teeth and hurried onto the boat.
The cabin was tiny, and it was already crowded with people. The windows had been blacked out, the only lights a few dim lanterns swinging from the ceiling. She looked up, but she saw no security cameras anywhere. It made her only more sure. The darer must be here somewhere.
Emerson swiveled around, nervously scanning the crowd. The boat was packed with families and a few older couples, dressed up for a date night out. She saw no one from Winslow—no one she even recognized. Then her gaze landed on a couple in the back of the boat. They stood close together, the man’s arm wrapped tightly around the woman’s shoulders.
Oh no. Emerson’s legs went wobbly. She had to get off this boat before he saw her. She shoved her way through a pair of squabbling siblings, making a beeline for the exit. “Whoa, there.” The captain stepped in front of Emerson, the door to the cabin clicking shut behind him. “Where are you off to? The frights haven’t even begun yet!”
“I have to get off,” Emerson mumbled, carefully angling herself so her back was to the couple. “I, uh, forgot something in my car.”
“Too late for that,” the captain said cheerfully. “We’re already on our way!” As he spoke, Emerson could feel a telltale whirring under her feet. He wasn’t lying; the boat’s engine had started. A clock in the back of the boat struck nine and strains of creepy music filled the boat.
“Here we go,” the captain said, taking his place up front. Somewhere up on deck there was a loud noise and the boat suddenly lurched, water splashing against its blackened windows. “We have submerged underwater,” the captain announced. All around the boat, kids leaned forward, listening intently. “We are now traveling at the speed of light. Any minute we will reach the bottom of the ocean, where anything at all could await us. But while we wait, let me tell you a little story.…”
As the captain launched into a ridiculous tale about underwater goblins, Emerson stole a glance at the back of the boat. There he was, whispering into the woman’s ear, wearing that playful little smirk she used to find so hot. Matt Morgan.
He was dressed more nicely than usual, a button-down shirt tucked into a pair of stiff jeans, but he still had his trademark stubble on his cheeks. The woman with him had long, dark hair; big blue eyes; and a pretty, purple dress hugging her slim frame. Emerson swallowed hard. It was Sydney’s mom, Tracey.
She’d seen her around town before, but she’d never been in such close quarters with her. In fact, she’d done everything she could to avoid it. But that hadn’t stopped her from imagining what it would be like. How Tracey would look right at her, hatred in her eyes and venom on her tongue. How she’d spew terrible, hurtful words, words that would tear Emerson apart. Home-wrecker. Tramp. Slut.
In those scenarios, Tracey had been cruel and heartless, a monster full of rage. But watching her here, the Tracey that Emerson had carefully constructed came crashing down around her.
It struck Emerson first how beautiful she was. Not exotic in the way people said Emerson was beautiful, but a warm, effortless kind of beauty. She looked like Sydney, but more lived-in, with a throaty laugh and eyes that lit up when she smiled. There was no venom or hatred, no rage or resentment. Her face was open and friendly, and the glow on her skin was unmistakable. She was thrilled to be there with Matt.
Emerson jerked backward, feeling as if she’d been punched in the gut. She didn’t need Tracey to scream the words; they came flying at her anyway, sharp-edged and full of poison.
Home-wrecker. Tramp. Slut.
Home-wrecker. Tramp. Slut.
Once a slut, always a slut.
Tracey said something that made Matt look up. Emerson ducked, trying to melt behind an elderly couple who seemed to be enjoying the captain’s tale as much as the kids. But it was too late; by the way Matt’s eyes suddenly widened, she could tell he’d spotted her. The expression on his face was one of complete shock. He stepped behind his wife and wrapped his arms protectively around her waist. Only when he was safely out of Tracey’s sight did he fix his gaze back on Emerson. The shock was gone, and it was replaced by something much worse. Fury. Pure, unbridled fury. His eyes blazed as they met Emerson’s. No! he mouthed.
Emerson’s face burned. She felt hot all over. She was here alone, on a ride meant for kids and cheesy dates. Matt would think she came for him—to watch him, or to confront him in front of Tracey. Tears pricked at her eyes as an awful realization hit her. The darer had planned this.
She wanted so badly to forget Matt, to forget the person she’d been when she was with him. But the darer wouldn’t let her. She had to have it thrown in her face all over again. She’d been nothing but a toy to Matt, someone to pass the time with until he found his happily-ever-after with Tracey. The thought made her want to slip out of her own skin, molt like a snake, and step into someone else’s life entirely.
A tear wound down her cheek and she angrily swiped it away. The black cat had been a warning. She should never have gotten on this boat.
“And now, passengers, I have a secret to share with you all.” Emerson started at the sound of the captain’s voice blasting over the loudspeaker. She hadn’t realized she’d been holding her breath, but suddenly it came out in a long rush. The darer must have planned this, too! The final straw in her humiliation. The captain would tell everyone her secret and then Tracey would cry and Matt would yell and she’d be turned into a leper and—
“The goblins, who almost never come out of hiding, have chosen today to descend on the boat!” the captain continued. The boat lurched again, and the lanterns all went out in a puff of smoke. It took Emerson several seconds to process: It wasn’t about her. Her secret was safe. At least for now.