Envy - 2 (22 page)

The meet had cleared his mind, worn him out. He had no energy, no wil , to think about his problems, to worry—instead he just relaxed and enjoyed himself. And enjoyed Harper. It was so easy between the two of them. They’d been friends for so long that they didn’t have to
try
when they were together, they didn’t have to wonder or worry about what the other was thinking. They could just laugh and talk—just be together.

“Come on,” he urged her, throwing an arm around her shoulders and pul ing her along. Now that the meet was over, the hosting high school was throwing a big, al -school pizza party—and he wanted to get there before al the pepperoni was gone.

Harper leaned against his shoulder and smiled up at him, and Adam marveled for a moment at the warmth and sincerity that fil ed her eyes. He knew there were a lot of people at Haven High who had their doubts about Harper—but if they only knew her like he knew her …

“Actual y,” she hedged, giving him a mischievous grin, “I have a better idea.”

As she explained, Adam laughed and shook his head—leave it to Harper to find her Val ey Glen equivalent and snag an invitation to the Pit, a secluded clearing in the nearby woods that was apparently
the
place to hang, if you were into that whole good music, warm beer, no adult supervision thing. (And who wasn’t?)

“She promises it’s better than it sounds,” Harper wheedled. “A bunch of them are headed over there now—”

“We don’t even know these people,” Adam said hesitantly. “And you don’t want to miss the bus.”

“It’s close by—we’l be back with plenty of time to spare,” she promised, pressing closer to him. “No one wil even notice we’re gone.” Adam shrugged his shoulders and nodded. He supposed that he should stick around for the pizza thing, bond with his teammates—but suddenly, laughing it up with the guys, watching them stuff their faces with pizza and smash soda cans against their foreheads, didn’t have much appeal. Not compared to sneaking off somewhere mel ow and secluded, somewhere with Harper.

Besides, at this point Adam would have agreed to pretty much anything. He felt strange—weirdly relaxed, loose. It took him a moment to place the unfamiliar sensation, but then he got it: He was happy.

Beth didn’t know what to expect when she walked up to the park—real y a dusty brown square in the middle of town with a sprinkling of sal ow, brittle grass that the town replanted, to no avail, every winter, only to see it al die off by the end of summer. There was a rickety band shel at the other end, which tonight was festooned with banners advertising: GRACE NOTES IN CONCERT! ONE NIGHT ONLY! She smiled and shook her head. This town got more ridiculous with every passing day.

When she found Kane, he waved and, with a flourish, pul ed a daisy from behind his back.

“What’s this?” she asked, giggling.

“A flower for the lady,” he said. “Just the beginning—fol ow me, please.” He led her through the park toward a picnic blanket that was laid out with a cornucopia of delicious-looking food—heaping sandwiches, cheese, fresh-baked bread, chocolate-covered strawberries, and a bottle of red wine in the center. Kane sat down and gestured for her to do the same.

“You did al this?” she asked, eyes wide.

“I’m a man of many talents,” he said, pouring her a glass of wine. “I figured it was the least I could do to thank you.”

“It’s amazing,” she breathed. And it was: the food, the warm breeze, the starry sky. “This is just what I needed—how did you know?”

“Like you said, I’m a quick study. But that’s not al .” He looked at his watch. “The entertainment portion of our evening should be starting just … about … now—” Suddenly a low base line began booming out of the speaker propped up a few feet behind them, and a moment later a four-part harmony broke into the familiar strains of “Blue Moon,” one of Beth’s favorite oldies.

She looked up at the band shel and, sure enough, four old men in silver vests and bowler hats—the Grace Notes, she assumed—were crooning away. In the darkness Beth could barely see any of the other picnickers, and it felt like they were singing just to her.

“Did you know about this?” she asked Kane.

“I saw the fliers earlier this week,” he admitted. “Thought it could be fun.”

“I wouldn’t think this was quite your speed,” she told him, laughing—she’d been laughing so much these past few weeks.

“Hey, we can leave if you want,” he offered, starting to get up.

“Leave? Are you crazy?” She grabbed his arm and pul ed him back down again, taking a sip from the glass of wine. She almost never drank—but this was, after al , a special occasion. The wine trickled down her throat, warm, sweet, and delicious. “This is wonderful, Kane—thank you.” She leaned over and hugged him. For just a moment too long.

They sat side by side in the moonlight, enjoying the food and the wine, letting the music wash over them, laughing, talking—and then, as the night wore on, quiet. And close.

And when Beth’s cel phone rang, she didn’t answer it—didn’t even check to see if it might be Adam.

And when she shivered, and Kane slowly, tentatively put an arm around her and pul ed her close to his warm body, she didn’t move away.

Adam came back to the smal campfire and plopped down next to Harper, who passed him a joint. “Everything okay?” she asked quietly.

Adam, who didn’t usual y go for pot, inhaled deeply and hoped that if it was going to mel ow him out, it would work fast.

“Fine,” he said shortly.

He didn’t know why he’d had to ruin a perfectly good day. He’d been in a great mood, tired but happy—so he’d let his guard down, cal ed Beth to share the good news of his victory.

There was no answer.

Was she screening? Was she out?

He didn’t know, and he supposed it didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was here now, free, and if he didn’t stop stressing, the moment was going to pass him by.

He looked good-naturedly around at the smal group of Val ey Glen high schoolers who’d gathered at the Pit. Their names and faces may have been different from the familiar Haven High crowd, but they seemed familiar—Adam had never felt so instantly at home. An old Jay-Z album was booming through the tinny speakers of an old boom box, and Adam leaned his head back, enjoying the way the driving beat enlivened the stil , dark woods. He and Harper were perched on a thick log in front of the improvised campfire, next to Miranda and her new guy, who had tagged along when Harper and Adam sneaked away from the pizza bash. It was just like being back in Grace—only better, because here Adam wasn’t the center of attention, wasn’t the big man on campus, carrying the burden of everyone’s hopes and expectations. Here he could just sit back and watch the action from the sidelines.

“I’m glad you dragged me out here,” he confided to Harper in a low voice, leaning close to her ear.

She favored him with a warm grin. “Me too, Ad.”

Suddenly fil ed with a burst of affection and gratitude for his oldest friend, he swept her into a bear hug.

“What would I do without you, Gracie?” It was what he’d cal ed her sometimes when they were kids, because it was funny to watch her get red in the face and throw things at him. He knew she secretly loved it.

“Good thing you’l never have to find out,” she promised him in a muffled voice.

“Dude, get a room!” one of the random Val ey Glen guys cal ed out.

Adam looked up, suddenly realizing everyone was looking at him. Maybe he wasn’t the center of attention out here—but he wasn’t invisible, either. He flushed hotly and jumped up. “You guys think we need more beer?” he asked Harper and Miranda. “I think we need more beer. I’l go grab some.” He jogged off in the direction of the massive coolers.

No one here knew him, of course—and it seemed unlikely that Miranda or her random guy would run home and start spreading gossip. And, Adam reminded himself, there was nothing to gossip about—he and Harper were just friends. Everyone knew that. But stil , if someone got the wrong idea, and somehow Beth got wind of it … that was real y al he needed, for word to get back to Beth that he’d been up here macking on Harper.

On the other hand … he pictured her and Kane back in town together, curled up on a couch, studying, ignoring her ringing phone. Maybe she wouldn’t even care.

And maybe he didn’t either.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Miranda hissed as soon as Adam was gone. It wasn’t a request.

“What is it?” Harper asked, visibly annoyed.

She
was annoyed? Let her try spending the day fending off the advances of a
human cactus
who had al the sexual chemistry of a rock.
Then
she could talk to Miranda about feeling annoyed.

“Not here,” she whispered, and dragged Harper off deeper into the woods, away from the rest of the group—away from Greg. “I cannot believe you,” she told Harper, once they were a safe distance away from the group.

“What?” Harper asked wearily.

“What do you mean, ‘what’? What’s the deal with tel ing Greg we were coming out here and inviting him along? Like I didn’t have enough trouble staying away from him al day long?”

“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.”

“Wel , 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 total y 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 pul a noshow? Besides, is your life al about Kane now? Wherever he goes, you fol ow?”

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

“So that’s al you care about now?” Harper asked. “He’s not good enough for you? And I thought I was supposed to be the shal ow 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. Stil , Harper, of al 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 actual y 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 dul -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 yel ed. “I’m not the one chasing after a guy who’s already got a girlfriend. And is total y 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 real y amazing? Don’t you think I
deserve
something amazing?”