Envy Page 17

  “I don’t know,” Harper mused, “he’s kind of cute without the cactus outfit. Aren’t you having fun?”

  “No, that would be you” Miranda said slowly. “We’re talking about me now—something I know you have some trouble wrapping your brain around.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means you dragged me along on this stupid trip, when I could have been home studying—and now I’m stuck out here in the middle of nowhere while you and Adam gaze into each other’s eyes and Greg tries to stuff his hand down my shirt.”

  “Well, that’s why I invited Greg along,” Harper pointed out defensively. “To keep you company. Besides, you didn’t have to come. I told you that you could stay for the pizza thing. We could have met up later.”

  “Right, like I was going to spend the night with those mindless drones. I thought we were going to be hanging out together.”

  “So here we are,” Harper pointed out, “together. What are you complaining about?”

  She just wasn’t getting it. But she would.

  “I don’t know, maybe about the fact that you totally lured me out here under false pretenses,” Miranda snapped. “Or have you forgotten your little plan,” she lowered her voice to a whisper, “to make Kane jealous? Somehow, I don’t think it’s going to work—because, gosh,” Miranda widened her eyes and craned her neck around in exaggerated confusion. “I don’t see him anywhere, do you?”

  “Very funny. Like I knew he was going to pull a noshow? Besides, is your life all about Kane now? Wherever he goes, you follow?”

  “That’s not the point, Harper, and you know it. The point is that you suckered me into coming up here, then ignored me all day, and stuck me with … the mascot. Do you know what people must be thinking when they see us together?”

  “So that’s all you care about now?” Harper asked. “He’s not good enough for you? And I thought I was supposed to be the shallow one.”

  Miranda recoiled—maybe because, deep down, she recognized a sliver of truth in Harper’s words. Greg was sweet, funny—but he’d spent the day acting like the court jester, not caring that everyone was laughing at him. Maybe he didn’t mind being the center of ridicule, but Miranda wasn’t looking to become Mrs. Class Clown anytime soon. Still, Harper, of all people, had no right to accuse her—not now, not after today.

  “Did you ever think that maybe I just don’t like spending time with some guy who’s chasing after me when I know I’m not interested?” she asked.

  “Did it ever occur to you that I’m doing you a favor?” Harper retorted.

  “Oh?”

  “Maybe if you give this guy a chance, instead of chasing after something you can’t have, you could actually be happy for once. Though I know that would just screw with your whole view of the universe.”

  Miranda snapped. Harper had deceived her, ditched her—and now, instead of apologizing, was acting like Miranda was making the whole thing up? Just looking for an excuse to complain? Miranda had been the model friend—always there when Harper needed her, always ready to support her wild ideas, sympathize with her ridiculous problems. And what did she ask for in return? Not much: a little companionship, a little understanding. What did she get? Nothing. No, worse—she got an endless day with dull-as-dirt Greg, while Harper did what she wanted, as usual, with no apologies and apparently no regrets. Because things were different for Harper, right? Because she played with a different set of rules.

  That had always been the understanding, at least—and Miranda was fed up.

  “Look who’s talking!” Miranda yelled. “I’m not the one chasing after a guy who’s already got a girlfriend. And is totally in love with her. You want to talk to me about pathetic and hopeless?”

  “That’s different,” Harper said hotly.

  “Why? Because you’re Harper Grace and you always get what you want? And meanwhile I’m supposed to settle for second-best?”

  “That’s not what I said.”

  “But it’s what you meant. It’s what you always mean. But why? Why should I have to settle for someone I think is just okay? Why can’t I hold out for something that’s really amazing? Don’t you think I deserve something amazing?”

  “Of course you do, Rand,” Harper said sincerely.

  “Then why the hell does everyone always want me to settle?”

  “I don’t,” said a low, male voice behind them.

  They spun around to see Greg standing a couple feet away. He’d obviously heard everything—or, at least, enough.

  “I just came to see if everything was all right,” he explained awkwardly.

  Miranda took a step toward him. “Greg—,” she began in a faltering voice, but broke off, not sure what to say.

  “No, I get it,” he told her, his face impassive—but it was obviously taking him a great deal of effort to keep it that way. “You don’t want to settle—that’s fair. You think you deserve better.” He shrugged and bit down on his lower lip. “So do I.”

  And he walked away, back toward the school.

  Miranda and Harper stood frozen in place for a moment, and then tears began leaking down Miranda’s face.

  “I can’t believe he—Harper, I feel so terrible, and he—” She stopped, her voice choked off by sobs, and Harper wrapped her in a tight hug.

  “I’m a terrible person,” Miranda whimpered.

  “No, you’re not,” Harper assured her.

  “I’m going to be alone forever—I deserve to be alone forever.”

  “No you don’t, Rand. Look, here’s what I think. You just need to—”

  She was stopped by the sound of her cell phone ringing. They both looked down at the caller ID—Kaia.

  “Why’s she calling you?” Miranda asked.

  But Harper had already answered the phone.

  “Kaia? Can we do this later? Or—no, okay, I understand. Just give me a sec.”

  She took the phone away from her ear. “Miranda, I have to take this,” she said lamely. “I’m sorry.”

  Tears still streaming down her face, Miranda looked at her best friend in shock.

  “You’re kidding, right? You’re going to leave me here so you can talk to Kaia?”

  Harper looked confused for a moment, then looked away.

  “I’m sorry, I just have to.” She gave Miranda another hug, but Miranda pulled away.

  “This won’t take long,” Harper promised. “I’ll meet you back by the fire, and we’ll talk the whole thing out. I swear.”

  “Whatever.” Miranda turned away, her shoulders shaking. “Have fun talking to Kaia. Tell her I say hello,” she added bitterly.

  Harper didn’t respond, and when Miranda finally turned around, she was gone.

  Harper hurried back to the clearing and knelt by Adam’s side, handing him her cell. “Adam, there’s a call on my phone that I think you need to take,” she whispered urgently.

  “What? What do you mean?” He looked at the phone in confusion.

  Harper pulled him away from the campfire and led him off into the woods, away from everyone, stopping when they’d reached a cluster of low-hanging trees.

  “Just trust me, it’s important—something you’re going to want to hear.”

  She left him alone and, bewildered, Adam put the phone to his ear. The reception was shockingly clear.

  “Hello?”

  “Adam, it’s Kaia.”

  “Kaia? Jesus, what the hell are you calling me for? And on Harper’s phone?”

  “Adam, don’t hang up—please. This is serious.”

  She sounded desperate and, against his better judgment, he took his finger off the end button. For the moment.

  “You’ve got one minute—talk,” he said gruffly.

  “I don’t know how to tell you this,” she began hesitantly. “I went into school today—it was open, you know, and I wanted to do some laps in the pool, and, well, I didn’t think there’d be anyone else there, but—”

  She stopped.
r />   “Spit it out,” he ordered.

  “They were there when I came in,” she said haltingly. “In the locker room. All over each other.”

  “Who?” But he thought he knew. A hollow space opened inside of him as he waited for the words to be spoken aloud, to make it real.

  “Beth and Kane.”

  There it was. Three syllables. Funny that it took so little to ruin everything.

  “And I’m supposed to believe that? From you, of all people?” He wanted to believe she was lying—but couldn’t. He was the one who’d been lying, to himself. All along, telling himself there was nothing to worry about. Stupid.

  “Why would I lie about this, Adam? Look, I know I’ve treated you … poorly in the past.”

  He let out a barking laugh. That was the understatement of the year.

  “But I have a lot of respect for you,” she said, emotion filling her voice. “You don’t deserve this.”

  “Kaia, I’m not throwing away a two-year relationship on your say so,” he said hollowly.

  “I thought you’d say that,” she responded. “That’s why I called on Harper’s phone. It’s camera-equipped—and I’ve got proof.”

  He looked at the phone’s tiny view screen, and a moment later there they were, right in front of him—Beth and Kane, in each other’s arms. Naked. Entangled.

  The screen was tiny, the resolution poor, but he could make out Beth’s hair, her face, the mole on her left shoulder blade. He could see her kissing Kane, rubbing his bare chest, letting him lick her neck and—he flipped the phone shut. Hanging up on Kaia, shutting out the nightmarish pictures. He’d known it was true, yes, but to see it?

  The images were seared into his brain. He smashed his fist into the ground, a volcano of rage erupting within him. He slammed the phone into the ground as hard as he could and stomped on it, imagining it was Kane’s neck he was crushing beneath his heavy boot.

  “Adam, are you okay?” Harper asked tentatively, emerging from behind the trees.

  “Go away, Harper,” he said in a strangled voice. No one should see him like this.

  “Adam?”

  “I just need some time alone, okay? I just—please, Harper, go.”

  She nodded and backed away.

  “You know where to find me when you need me,” she promised.

  Promises—what were they worth to him anymore? Adam sank onto the ground and laid his head in his hands. Was this his fault? Had he started it, sleeping with Kaia in the first place?

  No.

  A cold certainty filled him, a righteous rage—this was no one-time thing, no harmless fling. This was Beth, his Beth, so innocent, so trustworthy—supposedly—and Kane, his best friend, his bro, his loyal and true ally. This was an affair, a dirty, scummy, poisonous affair between two heartless traitors who’d betrayed him and everything he thought was real.

  He wanted to scream.

  He wanted to hit something, someone.

  He wanted to cry.

  But instead, he just sat there on the cold ground, immobile, silent.

  It was all over now, all of it. There was nothing left.

  When it became clear Adam had hung up on her, Kaia snapped the phone shut with a satisfied grin. He could deny it all he wanted, but she knew he’d believed her the moment the words were out of her mouth. He’d believed it before she even picked up the phone. The pictures were just gravy—but they’d definitely sealed the deal.

  “Kaia, I’m getting bored in here. Why don’t you come back to bed?” the languid, British voice called to her from the bedroom—where the handsome British man who owned it lay sprawled across his silk sheets, waiting for her.

  “Be right there!” she called. “And I’ve got a surprise for you.”

  She stopped in the small kitchen and pulled a can of whipped cream and a jar of chocolate syrup out of the fridge. Powell always said he didn’t like surprises, but this one would be too sweet to resist. She gave herself a quick once-over in the hallway mirror and then, turning off her phone and laying it on the counter, headed down the hall to begin her night for real.

  I’ve done my part now, she thought, sending a telepathic message out toward Kane and Harper, who were about to reap the benefits of a carefully laid plan. Your turn—just don’t screw it up.

  Eventually, the anger had seeped out of him.

  Or rather, the anger was still there, like acid, burning a hole deep inside of him, but all his energy had washed away, and he felt slow, heavy, weighed down by a deep sadness. And he knew then that he didn’t want to be alone.

  He walked back toward the Pit to find Harper—but she found him first. She was sitting on the ground by the side of the trail. Waiting for him.

  “You’re always there when I need you,” he marveled, his voice breaking midway through the sentence.

  “Oh, Adam,” Harper moaned. “Kaia told me—I’m so sorry, I—”

  “Please, stop,” he said quietly. “Let’s not—just stop.”

  A tear trickled down his face and she caught it with her fingertip as it rolled down his cheek, then pulled him into a hug. He leaned against her, crying silently in her arms, deeply ashamed, and knowing that there was no one, no one in the world he would allow to see him like this. No one but Harper. He leaned against her, and she held him up. Like always.

  “I broke your cell phone,” he murmured into her hair.

  “I don’t care about that,” she said, pulling back and looking him in the eye. “I care about you.” She gently pressed her hand against his cheek. “Let’s take a walk,” she suggested. “I think you need some air.”

  She put an arm around him and led him down the forest trail and away from the pit. They walked in silence, past the silhouetted trees and shadows cast by looming rock formations. The night was bright, the moonlight filtering in through a canopy of leaves. At the edge of the woods they turned to make sure the Grace bus and van were still there, silently waiting in the parking lot. Then they walked along the perimeter of the woods, listening to the whispering wind and the distant howling of a coyote.

  Adam, lost in a world of his own thoughts and regrets, noticed none of it.

  Finally, Harper led them over to a square, flat rock that lay tucked between a cluster of saplings.

  “Just like our rock,” she said, scrambling up onto it and pulling him after her. They lay back on the cool granite and stared up at the sky—and she was right, it did feel for a moment like they were back home, in the backyard, a million years ago, when it had been just the two of them and everything had been so simple.

  His mind dipped through the past, skidding across memories of long-ago days. So many moments that had brought him to this one. And Harper—he turned his head to look at her and realized she was staring at him, eyes awash in love and sympathy—Harper had been there for almost all of them. She was the one constant in his life. His father gone, his mother useless, his girlfriend and his best friend—

  No, there was only Harper. Loyal. True. Just thinking about her, just lying there so close to her made the anger subside, made the world seem almost bearable, made the red tide of pain and betrayal recede.

  She reached over and took his hand, squeezing it gently, and he squeezed back, then shifted onto his side and looked at her. For the first time, really looked at her. And realized what he’d been missing. Slowly, wordlessly, he sat up, pulled her up beside him, then tipped her chin up, closed his eyes, and melted into her.

  The moment their lips met, it was as if he’d been waiting forever to hold her in his arms, and he drank her in hungrily, urgently, needing the contact, the pressure of her arms around him, her lips on his, their bodies entwined. He didn’t need Beth, he thought angrily. And he would prove it.

  Time stretched—and it felt like they’d been on the rock, folded into each others’ arms, forever, would be forever—

  And then Harper pushed him away.

  “I can’t, Adam,” she whispered.

  “Harper—” He reached out
for her.

  “No, not like this,” she protested, sitting up and drawing away from him.

  “Is it too fast? Is it—”

  “It’s too soon, Adam,” she said tenderly. “You’re hurt. You’re angry.” She brushed his hair out of his face and kissed him on the cheek. “When we do this … if we do this … I don’t want it to be because you want to get revenge on Beth.”

  “I’d never use you, Harper,” he protested.

  “I know that—don’t you think I know that? But I think … I think we should wait. Until you know what you really want.”

  I want you. That’s what he wanted to say. But the words choked in his throat because he knew she was right. And she didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve that.

  He lay back on the rock again, sighing.

  “I’m so fucked up, Harper,” he admitted. “How did things get so fucked up? I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now. I just don’t know.”

  She kissed him softly on the lips and then lay back beside him, taking his hand.

  “We’ll figure it out, Adam. Together.”

  The night had seemed interminable. Harper had disappeared into the woods, and Greg had refused to listen to her apology, so Miranda had picked her way through the forest, following the narrow path back toward Valley Glen High School. Alone. She’d made her way to the parking lot and stood by the empty Haven bus. Alone.

  Finally, the pizza party had ended, the Haven High fans had surged into the parking lot and boarded their bus and the van, and now Miranda was speeding toward home. And, slouched down in a seat right behind the driver, peering out the window into the darkness, she was still alone. Completely and utterly alone.

  She hadn’t noticed whether Harper, Adam, and Greg had made it back in time, and she didn’t really care. It’s not like any of them were worried about her, wondering where she was or if she was all right. Harper’s amazing disappearing act had made that pretty clear.

  No, she was on her own—and maybe, she thought bitterly, she’d better get used to it. After all, who understood her? Who was there for her when she needed someone to lean on? Good old Miranda, always there to lend a sympathetic ear, always ready to give advice—but when was it ever her turn? When she was the one who needed help, who needed some support, then there she was—alone.