From the author of Escape Room comes Deep Water , a new pulse-quickening read that asks: How do you outrun danger when you're trapped at sea? Welcome to No Exit. The place for you, so that others are safe. Vesper thought a ten-day cruise would be the perfect escape from her troubled life. But when the ship leaves the harbor, she quickly realizes this is no ordinary vacation. She has been enrolled in No Exit, a sinister program to reeducate bullies. Now, Vesper and her fellow passengers are in deep water—and they’re about to confront their darkest fears and deepest regrets. As the days pass, the ship becomes a floating prison where the rules are brutal and the punishments deadly. With each new challenge, the teens must navigate physical and psychological trials that push them to their limits. And not everyone will make it back alive. A Junior Library Guild Gold Standard Selection! Maren Stoffels published her first book at age seventeen. She likes stories that are based on real experiences. Reading her books make you feel like it could all happen to you. And maybe it will. . . . VESPER All around me, there’s water. Bright blue, as far as the eye can see. I clutch the railing and stare back at the spot we came from. The harbor’s no longer visible, and neither is Dad. When we said goodbye, he hugged me tight for the first time in ages, as if he didn’t want to let go of me. But he didn’t say anything, not one word. And I get that. Being good at saying goodbye isn’t in our genes. But still, Dad let me go. In fact, he was the one who came up with the idea for this cruise. He says I need it. When I heard the words “an amazing vacation for young people,” I refused at first. But when Dad told me where the vacation was going to be, I was sold. Ten days on a cruise ship, with nothing around you but the sea. It sounded so tempting. “How on earth did we afford this?” I asked Dad when I saw the ship. It was the kind of thing you see in brochures: white and gleaming, even more beautiful than I’d hoped. And so big! Plenty of floors to get lost on. But Dad didn’t answer my question. I just hope he hasn’t started gambling again. One day, he’s going to gamble away our house. Or Ollie. There must be lots of people out there who’d like to have a beautiful chocolate Labrador like Ollie. I think about his soft ears, which I held to my cheek just before leaving. Dogs aren’t allowed on board, but I really wish I could have smuggled him onto the ship in my backpack. I pick at the railing. The paint flakes off. As a sharp piece lodges under my fingernail, I wince. “Welcome aboard this Dean Sea Lines cruise,” a man’s voice calls through a loudspeaker. “We hope you have a wonderful time with us. And our staff would love to give you a personal welcome on Foredeck A. Be there in five minutes.” I suck the sharp flake of paint from under my fingernail and spit it out into the sea. The pain throbs and then fades. “That all you’ve got?” When I look around, I see someone with such bright orange hair that it hurts my eyes. In fact, everything about him hurts my eyes, from that hair to his white T-shirt with three red stripes on the sleeves. His checkered pants don’t go with the look—they’re like something from a different century. “I’ll show you how to spit into the sea.” He grabs the railing with both hands, leans back, gives a big sniff, and then swings forward in one fast movement. The blob of spit flies through the air. “That’s how you do it.” “Charming.” I turn around and lean on the railing. “Why don’t you put your backpack down? That thing looks heavy.” “Nah, I’m good,” I say quickly. He’d better not ask what’s in it. . . . “Looking forward to our little vacation?” he says, turning his back to the sea as well. “Yeah.” “So, who wanted to get rid of you?” Huh? No one wants to get rid of me. “With me, it was both of my parents. They kept nagging me until I said I’d go.” “My dad wanted me to do it,” I say. “Because I . . .” Because I need a rest, I think, but I don’t say it. “What about your mom?” “My mom’s dead.” I hate saying those words out loud, but it’s something I have to do pretty often. Ever since she died, it’s like every conversation leads to her, as if people can smell it. “That’s a bummer.” Did he actually just say that? A bummer is when you get a failing grade, even though you studied really hard. Or when you forgot to grab a towel and you’re dripping in the shower. A dead mom is way more than “a bummer.” “So, it was your dad who signed you up?” I look at him. “For a cruise, yeah. You’re acting like this is some kind of hellhole!” He smiles. “Guess we’ll find out soon enough.” “Well, it doesn’t look much like a hellhole.” I gaze up at the huge white ship. “There’s a movie theater, a pool, a library, a . . .” I swallow the word casino. “So, not very hellish.” “Oh yeah, it’s incredible.” He’s still smiling. “Almost too g