Envy Read online

  Not a big surprise—Greg was scrawny, gawky, and worst of all, bland. Under normal circumstances, Harper would have given him the big thumbs down—Miranda could do way better.

  But these weren’t normal circumstances, and she was going to have to take what Miranda could get. Which, at the moment, was a geeky, gawky loser. That, however, was a problem for another time—for tomorrow. Tonight she was still riding high on her triumph, and once Miranda was gone, she could continue celebrating in peace.

  As Kane and Kaia bantered flirtatiously back and forth about who had the hottest drink, Harper zoned out, letting the conversation wash over her. The plan was set in motion now, and it was only a matter of time before the big payoff. She didn’t know how she was going to make it through the next couple days, hoping that nothing went wrong, that no one—including herself—lost their nerve, and knowing that by the end of the week, if all went according to plan, she and Adam would finally be together. And when that happened, she knew, she would stop all this ridiculous worrying about what she’d done and who she’d betrayed—because being with Adam would feel so right, it would justify anything that had happened along the way. She couldn’t wait.

  Kane lifted his mug and proposed a toast.

  “To getting what we want,” he proclaimed, “by any means possible.”

  They clinked glasses and drank up. Harper smiled weakly, suddenly glad he hadn’t suggested an alternate toast: “To getting what we deserve.”

  “Can you guys just shut up for one second?” Beth screamed in frustration. But it was no use. Her bratty brothers continued their hyperactive race through the house, hollering and squealing as they clomped up and down the stairs. Disaster was inevitable. Whether it would be one of the twins colliding with a heavy piece of furniture or Beth’s head exploding (or some combination of the two, featuring an irate babysitter and a blunt object), she didn’t know. But she did know she couldn’t take this much longer. The stress of the SATs always looming over her, the fight she’d had with Adam eating away at her, and now, these brats. The world was conspiring to drive her insane.

  Not that she didn’t love her little brothers.

  And maybe, if their house had been fully stocked with all that stuff supposed to keep five-year-olds in check—PlayStation, cable TV, DVD collection—she wouldn’t have minded spending day after day after day with them. But her family couldn’t afford any of that stuff. So the twins just had Beth—and each other. Normally, Adam would be here, occupying the twins with one of those lame magic tricks they loved, or teaching them how to tie different kinds of knots. Adam was an only child, and always claimed he was jealous of her “adorable” little brothers. “If you think they’re so cute,” Beth usually responded, “take them home with you. Please.” But she had to admit that, when Adam was around, even she found her brothers kind of cute—he brought something out in them. And in himself.

  But she and Adam weren’t speaking to each other—hadn’t since the day before, when he’d left her in the middle of the highway and sped away, covering her in a cloud of dust. She was on her own with the babysitting thing tonight, and that meant she had two options: continue to yell and scream, which would neither get the twins to shut up nor get her any closer to that perfect score—or bribe them with ice cream sundaes.

  As always, it worked like a charm. Jeff and Sam, who, when they were silent, looked almost cherubic with their big blue eyes and curly blond hair, sat side by side at the table in front of their heaping bowls of ice cream, chocolate sauce, and a cherry for each. Their legs dangled several inches from the floor, swinging back and forth as they dug into their frozen treasure.

  “Bethie, can I ask you a question?” Jeff asked, slurping down a spoonful of Rocky Road.

  “Sure,” she said, expecting to have to explain why the sky was blue or why Daddy smelled strange and acted so funny when he came home late at night.

  “Is Kane your boyfriend now?”

  “What? No, of course not,” she said quickly. Kane had been over at the house a lot lately, studying—but she hadn’t realized that her brothers had noticed.

  “He’s just a friend.”

  “I like him,” Jeff said.

  “Me too,” Beth replied.

  “But I like Adam better.”

  “Adam stinks, I like Kane,” Sam countered. Beth knew he was just trying to get a rise out of his brother—but still, it hurt to hear.

  “Sam, take that back!” she scolded him.

  “No way,” Sam said, grinning, seeing he’d made her mad. “Adam stinks. Kane’s way better.”

  “Adam is!” Jeff yelled.

  “No, Kane!”

  They went back and forth, louder and louder, until finally Beth pulled away both their ice cream dishes and held them high in the air.

  “No more, unless you guys behave!” she threatened.

  They shut up immediately, and she handed back the bowls.

  “But Beth,” Sam asked quietly, “which one do you like better?”

  They both stared at her, their eyes filled with curiosity, and Beth shifted uncomfortably in her seat. It was just too weird to hear the question coming out of her little brother’s mouth, the same question that Adam had been pestering her with one way or another for weeks. The same question that kept bouncing up in her mind no matter how hard and how many times she tried to push it away.

  “I like them both, Sam, in different ways.”

  “But who do you like better?” Jeff repeated insistently.

  She ignored the question and skipped over to the refrigerator. When in doubt, distract.

  “We almost forgot—who wants whipped cream!”

  Greg pulled the car to a stop in front of Miranda’s house.

  “So,” he said awkwardly, turning off the ignition and staring straight ahead as if afraid to look at her.

  “So,” she repeated, giving him a half smile. Part of her wanted to throw open the door, jump out of the car and never look back. But it would be so rude, even cruel … and a part of her was just a little curious to see what would happen if she stayed.

  So she did.

  “I had a great time tonight,” he said hopefully, twining his fingers with hers.

  “Me too,” she replied—it was only polite. She looked down at her hand, linked with his, as if it belonged to someone else.

  He touched her cheek with his other hand. “I’m really glad you agreed to go out with me.”

  He was so earnest, it was painful. “You’ve got really pretty eyes,” he whispered. “You know that?”

  Oh God, just kiss me already, she thought, stifling a laugh. But she just smiled sweetly. “Thanks.”

  And then, even though she’d been waiting for it, he took her by surprise. One moment his face was a foot away, the next it was on hers, bumping awkwardly against her nose, and then their lips were suctioned together. There was no wave of passion, not even a ripple. Instead, she just observed, as if from very far away.

  His lips were oddly soft and very wet.

  She’d never before noticed how strange kissing was, really. All that squishing and sucking and smacking together. Where your tongue goes and what your hands should be doing. She’d never really thought about it before.

  But then, she supposed, you probably weren’t supposed to be thinking very much, during. You certainly weren’t supposed to be thinking about your unfinished chem lab or yesterday’s episode of General Hospital while his fingers were crawling up beneath your shirt, hungrily grasping at your bare skin. And you probably shouldn’t be thinking about another guy.

  But Miranda was—and wished that those were his arms wrapped around her, his breath hot against her neck.

  But then again—

  It was dark inside the car, and they were just shadowy silhouettes pressed against each other. He could be anyone. She could be anyone. When she closed her eyes, there was only the feel of a body next to hers, of a solid chest and broad shoulders, of warm flesh and hard muscle.

  W
hen she closed her eyes, they were two strangers coming together in the dark.

  When she closed her eyes—he could be anyone.

  chapter

  11

  “So I think I’m going to ditch out on this whole swim meet thing,” Miranda said, stretching herself out on Harper’s living room couch.

  “What do you mean, ‘ditch out’?” Harper asked lazily. She was curled up in a worn orange armchair, feeling far too relaxed and contented to get upset about Miranda’s last-minute change of heart. “Why wouldn’t you go?”

  “I don’t know.” Miranda, who’d been playing a game of ‘should I or shouldn’t I eat this’ with a bag of Chips Ahoy! for the last twenty minutes, finally pushed the unopened bag away in disgust. “With the SATs and all, it just seems like maybe I should stay home and study—”

  “The SATs aren’t until Saturday,” Harper pointed out. “We’ll get back from Valley Glen Thursday night—you’ll have all day Friday to study.” They’d had this conversation already, a few days before, and Harper had thought the matter was closed.

  “Yeah, but I’ll be totally wiped, and it’s probably better if I—”

  “Miranda, what’s really going on?” Harper interrupted, shaking her head. It’s not like Miranda’s presence on Thursday was at all crucial to the plan—but she didn’t like last-minute changes, not this late in the game. Not when everything was moving along so perfectly.

  Miranda flushed and looked away. “I just think it’ll be weird,” she admitted. “Greg’s going, and I don’t want to … I think it’s better if I just stick around here. I’m sure I can find someone who wants to do some last-minute cramming.” She laughed ruefully. “There’s always Beth—I’m sure she’s not going anywhere two days before the SATs, and—” Miranda suddenly caught a glimpse of Harper’s face, which had almost completely drained of color. “What?”

  But Harper was struck speechless for a moment, as she felt her whole plan begin to unravel.

  “Just to avoid this guy Greg, you’d stay home and”—she could barely bring herself to say it—“study with Beth?”

  “Well, I was kind of joking about the Beth thing,” Miranda allowed, “but actually, it doesn’t seem like the worst idea in the world.”

  “Except that it is,” Harper countered heatedly—and then caught herself. She couldn’t have Miranda staying home and screwing everything up. She couldn’t leave Beth with a potential alibi. But what was she supposed to tell Miranda?

  Obviously not the truth.

  “So exactly what was so wrong with this guy?” Harper asked, stalling for time as she desperately tried to figure out how to get Miranda on that bus and safely out of town.

  “There was nothing wrong with him,” Miranda clarified, sounding exasperated. “I just don’t think I need to be with a guy I’m not really that into.”

  “Okay, first of all, hooking up in a car does not qualify as being ‘with’ him, so just take it easy. Second of all, you’ve only been on one date—that’s, what, four hours? You have no way of knowing whether you’re into him or not.” Harper cringed at her own words, since she’d only needed thirty seconds with Greg to determine he was a loser. But in principle, she reasoned, it was sound advice. So what if she and Miranda, experts in snap judgment, had never followed it before? There was a first time for everything.

  “I know that when I stood him next to Kane, it wasn’t pretty. Doesn’t it seem like the guy you’re with—excuse me, on a date with—should at least seem like the most appealing guy in the room?”

  Uh, not when you have no chance in hell of getting the one you really want, Harper thought. But she couldn’t say that.

  “Miranda, you know that old song, ‘If you can’t be with the one you love, love the one you’re with’?” she said instead.

  “No, and if you start singing, I’m walking out right now.”

  “No singing, I promise. Just a suggestion—give the guy another chance. Forget you ever saw Kane last night.”

  “What were you all doing there, anyway?” Miranda asked suspiciously. “I thought you were staying in.”

  “Oh?” Well, at least this time she’d known it was coming, and she’d had some time to prepare. “Yeah—uh, Kane told me he was going out with Kaia to talk about … their history project, and I invited myself along. You know, to keep an eye on him—for you!” You are an evil person—and, all of a sudden, a shitty liar, she told herself. She hoped Miranda would buy it.

  “Well, thanks, I guess,” Miranda said grudgingly. “I can’t believe you were willing to subject yourself to a night with Kaia just to keep him away from her. For me.”

  “Well, believe it.” Please, please believe it.

  “So you do still think I’ve got a chance?” Miranda asked, her voice filled with a new hope.

  It was a hope that Harper knew she should shoot down immediately, for Miranda’s sake, if not for her own. But if she was going to get Miranda to this swim meet, Harper was going to need to use some bait. And she had just the thing.

  “I think … it can’t hurt to find out. And this whole swim team championship could be your perfect opportunity.”

  “Why—is Kane coming?”

  “He’s on the swim team, isn’t he?” Harper replied carefully. It was a true statement … it just didn’t actually answer the question. “You can spend some time with him, be there to support him. And as for Greg—how do you think Kane will feel, seeing some guy chasing after you for a change?”

  “I don’t know if it’s such a good idea, Harper,” Miranda said dubiously. “Having the two of them side by side? It might not be—”

  “I saw the way Kane was staring at you in that coffee shop, Rand” Harper broke in, throwing caution to the wind. “Seeing you with another guy? It made him look at you in a whole new way.”

  “I thought so too!” Miranda crowed.

  Harper smiled weakly, feeling like a sticky gob of something you peel off the bottom of your shoe. It wouldn’t be so bad, she told herself. Maybe once she spent some more time with this loser, Miranda would decide she actually liked him—maybe she’d finally forget all about Kane. When you thought about it, Harper was doing Miranda a service—Kane was a sleazebag, not good enough for her best friend. Things were bad enough now, with Miranda chasing after him so pathetically—but she’d be much, much worse off if she ever got what she wanted. Kane was bad news.

  Miranda needed someone good, someone solid. Really, if she knew what Harper was up to, if she knew the whole story, she’d have to be grateful. She’d have to say thank you.

  But maybe it was better not to risk it.

  They arrived at the school at seven the next day, just after sunrise. The swim team, riding in a separate van, had already left, and Miranda and Harper found themselves lost amid a sea of rabid Haven High fans. It had been a long time since either of them had attended a school sporting event—now, trapped in a rowdy crowd of students waiting to get on the bus, they remembered why they’d stayed away.

  “Miranda! Hey, over here!” The two girls looked over toward the sound of the voice to see a life-size foam cactus pushing through the crowd—and heading straight toward them. “Hey, I was hoping you’d be here,” the cactus-guy called, bobbing his head awkwardly—thanks to the costume, his arms were both stuck rigidly out from his body, as if in a permanent double-handed wave.

  “Do we know this loser?” Harper muttered to Miranda, as the cactus approached.

  Miranda just sighed.

  “Hi, Greg. When you said you were coming, you didn’t mention you’d be—” She gestured to his elaborate green foam costume. It was too horrible for words.

  “I’m the mascot,” he explained, a wide smile breaking out on his face. “I’m supposed to bring some cheer for the cheering section.”

  “Well you certainly brought us some morning cheer,” Harper said snidely, smirking at Miranda.

  Miranda just sneered back—then yelped in dismay as Greg’s thorny arm wrapped around her
and pulled her toward the bus.

  “Our chariot awaits, madame,” he told her gallantly. “You can help me lead the fight song.”

  Harper stifled a laugh and tried her best to ignore the pleading look in Miranda’s eyes as Greg dragged her away. She knew she should probably feel guilty, but she couldn’t help it: All she felt was a rush of anticipation and excitement, and the warm certainty that everything was finally falling into place, exactly as she’d planned.

  She found a seat for herself on the bus and watched out the window as they pulled out of the lot and onto the open road. The road stretched ahead of them, and Grace soon fell behind—and as the miles wore on, her heart grew lighter and lighter. It was all going to work. By the time the bus returned to Grace, late that night, everything would be different. And Harper would have everything she’d ever wanted. It felt like she’d been waiting a lifetime; but only a few hours more, and her wait would finally be over.

  The pit stop was, almost literally, a pit.

  It was a gas station in the middle of nowhere, a lonely gray outpost in the gray desert landscape. It looked abandoned, a wreck of a building that faded into the washed-out sepia tones of the scrub-brush covered land. But after three hours on the road, cramped together in a tiny van with nothing but drab scenery, dirty jokes, and a scratched up Outkast CD to keep them entertained, the swim team was ready for a break. And they weren’t picky.

  Besides, at least there was a bathroom—unisex, and looking as if it had only recently been introduced to indoor plumbing, but semifunctional nonetheless. There was a small convenience store area by the cash register, where the coffee looked like it should have been dispensed by the ancient, rust-encrusted gas pumps, but it was coffee.

  And there was even cell reception. Just in one spot, behind the semi-outhouse and a few feet from where the owner had tethered a sallow, swaybacked horse, but one spot was all Adam needed.

  He couldn’t do it, couldn’t leave town without at least trying to talk things out with Beth. Or rather, he had left town, without saying a word, and it was killing him. He would go no farther.