Vicious by Sara Shepard Page B

afraid,” Emily whispered, pulling off her tee. She waited for the Ali in her head to answer, but surprisingly, the voice was silent.
    The waves tumbled, kicking up white foam. Emily understood the power of the ocean; she knew that it might take her down fast, even faster than it had in fifth grade. In these conditions, it would pull her under, spin her like a pebble. She pictured her head hitting rock, or the nearby jetty, or simply sinking down, down, down, until she felt nothing.
    I’m not afraid , she thought again, stepping out of her shorts. And with that, she walked down the beach and into the sea.

6
    RESCUE EFFORTS
    Crack.
    Spencer sat up in bed. At first, she had no idea where she was . . . and then she saw Aria next to her and felt the scratchy motel comforter. The digital clock on the side table said it was 5:30. The room was still dark, though the wind outside was howling fiercely.
    She stumbled for the bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light. After she flushed, she stood by her bed again, sensing something was wrong. It didn’t take her long to realize what it was.
    Emily wasn’t there.
    Spencer rushed to Emily’s side of the bed and patted it, but the lump of pillows and blankets wasn’t concealing a girl. She slid open the closet door—apparently, after Jordan died, Emily had taken to sleeping in her closet—but Emily wasn’t there, either. Spencer spun around the room, breathing heavily. Something was off. Where could Emily have gone this early in the morning?
    And then she saw it.
    A stark white piece of paper, folded, on the desk. Spencer, Aria, and Hanna , it read in Emily’s handwriting. Spencer snatched it up, ran to the bathroom, and turned on the light. She unfolded the paper with shaking hands. There, in messy scrawl, were four terrible sentences.
    I just can’t do this anymore. You guys are much stronger than me. Please don’t come after me. I’m sorry.
    The note fluttered from her hands. Spence rushed back into the room and grabbed her flip-flops, shoved them on her feet. “Oh my God, oh my God.”
    Aria shifted sleepily. “Are you okay, Spence?”
    Spencer didn’t answer. Staying here, explaining—it would take too long. “I’ll be back,” she blurted, then darted out the door and dashed down the motel stairs.
    It was just getting light outside. The first place Spencer checked was Hanna’s car, but it was still in the parking space; Emily wasn’t inside. She ran to the pool; the surface was windswept, but no one was swimming. She gazed up the sidewalk, then in the other direction. The streets were empty. Clearly the storm was rolling in early; most people had probably left. No one would be on the beach on a day like today.
    And then it hit her.
    Spencer raced around the side of the motel toward the beach path. She scrambled up the steps and down them again, tripping over the dunes. When she saw Emily’s clothes in a jumbled heap near the stairs, she let out a choked, muffled cry. She couldn’t. She wouldn’t.
    â€œSpence?”
    Spencer whipped around. Hanna and Aria were behind her, still in their pajamas. Both were pale. “What’s going on?” Aria croaked fearfully, staring at Spencer like she’d gone crazy. “Why are you down here? Where’s Emily?”
    â€œShe’s . . . ,” Spencer said, but then she noticed the look on Hanna’s face. Hanna was looking past them at the water. She extended a shaky finger, and Spencer whirled around to follow her gaze. There, beyond the breakers, very visible, was a girl’s sleek, dark head.
    â€œNo!” Spencer screamed, tearing down the beach toward the water. Emily floundered in the waves, her arms extended. A wave pounded over her, and she vanished.
    Spencer turned to her friends, who’d run down, too. “She’s going to die out there!”
    â€œWe should call 911,” Hanna said, pulling