Envy - 2 (26 page)

“I don’t want revenge,” he promised. “I want
you
.”

She didn’t think it would hit her so hard.

One minute, Beth was on her feet, barely awake, barely functional, but stil upright, moving forward.

And the next, there they were, Adam and Harper, locked in each other’s arms.

It was as if al the breath was sucked from her lungs, al the energy leeched from her body. The world narrowed to a pinhole vision—al she could see was him, with her, those familiar hands al over another body. She knew every inch of him, could almost feel what he was feeling as Harper wrapped herself around him. She wanted to throw up—instead she staggered, would have col apsed, but a pair of strong arms caught her halfway to the ground.

Kane.

“Beth, you look terrible,” he said, helping her up and putting his arm around her. She leaned against him grateful y.

“Thanks,” she said weakly as they shuffled toward the school. “A girl always likes to hear that.” She did look terrible, she knew that. She’d cried al night, and it showed. When she’d looked in the mirror this morning, she had barely recognized the pale, gaunt face looking back at her with dead, hopeless eyes. “You don’t look so great yourself,” she added, gesturing toward the angry, enflamed skin around his left eye.

“You should see the other guy,” Kane joked—then looked appal ed, as he realized what he had said. “Beth, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

“It’s okay.” But it wasn’t. It might never be.

“Beth, I want you to know, if you need—”

She put up a hand to silence him.

“Can we not do this now? I just need to—I just need to make it through the test.”

It was as far ahead as she could bear to look. The future, which started in three hours, would take care of itself.

Three hours.

One hundred eighty minutes.

Too many questions to count—and a whole future riding on every answer.

Miranda bit nervously on the eraser of her number two pencil. Maybe she should have spent a little more time studying and a little less time partying. Too late now.

Kane tapped his toes, checked his watch, and waited for the time to run out. After al that time pretending to be an idiot, it was almost a pleasure to run through the test, fil in al the answers with ease, and kick back and relax. But he wished the clock hand would move just a little faster. He had things to do.

Kaia fil ed in the bubbles at random, making pictures with the dots and trying to spel out as many words as she could with the letters
A
,
B
,
C
,
D
, and
E
. Who knew, maybe she’d score even better this time. If so, she could patent the method and drive the Ivy Bound assholes out of business.

Harper fidgeted. This sucked. Stuck inside, alone, trapped behind a desk, when Adam sat somewhere behind her. Was he watching her? she wondered. Did he final y want her as much as she wanted him? As soon as this thing was done, they were heading home—her parents were out for the day, and she and Adam had a
lot
of catching up to do. Now it was just a matter of running down the clock.

Adam didn’t want to be there. The test didn’t mean anything to him—he wasn’t going anywhere, test or no test. He knew that. So why waste his time? He watched Beth, a few rows in front of him, her blond head bent intently over the page.
I hope it was worth it to you
, he thought bitterly. It had al started with this stupid test.
I sure as hell hope it was worth it.

The numbers and words swam in front of her, blurred by tears. Beth’s mind was fuzzy with fatigue, and it was al she could do to keep her heavy lids from slipping shut. To sleep would be such bliss—to forget al of this, to forget about him, a few rows back. Was he looking at her? Or was he looking at Harper? She didn’t even know how many sections she’d already finished, only knew that the test had dragged on forever—and that her answer sheet was stil almost completely blank.

She’d heard that you got six hundred points just for fil ing in your name … She was going to need it.

Free at last
, Miranda thought, stepping out of the stuffy school and breathing a relieved breath of warm, fresh air. But her celebration was short-lived, for what good was celebrating when you were al alone?

Harper, who she stil wasn’t speaking to, was a few steps ahead. When they hit the parking lot, Adam ran up to her and swept her off her feet with a hug and a passionate kiss.

Big surprise
, Miranda thought.
Harper gets everything she wants. Again.

And there, only a few feet away, were Beth and—of al people—Kane. On another day Miranda might have been heartbroken—but today? Today she just accepted the new development and moved on. She was in the kind of mood where the worst case scenario seemed pretty much the only option—which meant she wasn’t much surprised when it happened.

Beth looked like she’d been hit by a train (smal wonder, considering the way her boyfriend, or maybe ex-boyfriend, Miranda supposed, was al over Harper). But it looked like Kane was disgustingly determined to cheer her up.

No, Miranda wouldn’t waste her time worrying about Beth. Or any of them. Why should she? They al had someone—and then there was her. As always.

Alone.

Beth had pushed Kane away, and, thinking she wanted to be alone, needed to be alone, she’d driven over to the old elementary school playground, her place, the place that always felt like home.

But as soon as she stepped through the opening in the chain link fence, she knew she’d made a mistake.

Beth had thought she would want to be there. She thought it would remind her of life beyond Adam, of childhood, of happiness. But the past suddenly seemed bleak—because al that hope had led her here, to the empty present. The playground didn’t wrap her in the soft arms of memory. It didn’t fix anything. It was just a cold, strange place, made al the stranger by the fact that it was so familiar, that it was completely unchanged.

She
was the one who’d changed.

She walked over to the swings, always her favorite spot, and sat down on one, pushing herself back and forth. Even the swings felt wrong, off. The seat was too tight, her legs were too long, scraping the ground. She was too old, and her body no longer remembered what to do, how to be that child who swung so high, pumping her legs, scraping the sky.
That’s
what happens when you get older
, she realized. You feel a little sick as the swing sways back and forth, but not enough to stop, and only at one point, when you’ve gone as far back and as high up as you can, and you’re almost paral el with the ground, you stop in midair, then lurch back into motion a moment before your stomach does, swooping toward the ground. You wonder whether your swing could flip over the metal bar at the top, swing you al the way around, and throw you to the ground, bruised and broken. When you were a kid, you thought it could happen—but you weren’t afraid. Al grown up, you know it can’t happen—but you’re fil ed with fear. You swing slower, instead of pumping for the sky. You don’t jump off—you slow yourself to a stop. You’d never fling yourself into the air in midswing, because you’re no longer dreaming of flying. You’re just worrying about how you’re going to land.

This is what it means to get old
, Beth thought.
To grow up. To be alone.

It sucked.

“I thought I’d find you here.”

It was Kane, appearing in front of her as if from nowhere. He always appeared just when she most needed someone, as if he somehow knew.

He sat down on the swing next to her.

“Should I ask how the test went?” he asked hesitantly.

She didn’t know if it was the reminder of the bombed SATs or just the warmth and concern in his voice, but she burst into tears.

“I’l take that as a no,” he said, and scooped her into his arms. And this time she let him hold her, let him comfort her, melted into his warm, strong body, let herself be supported by someone else—because she could no longer do it herself.

He rubbed her back, gently kissed the top of her head, and then—and she knew it was coming, hadn’t she always known it was coming?—he tilted her face toward him and kissed her.

She was about to pul away. But then she thought of Adam and Harper, of facing another moment on her own al by herself, of drowning.

She was so tired, too tired to think, too tired to resist.

She pul ed back for a moment and looked into his eyes. They were warm and caring. She took a deep breath, and kissed him—and let herself go.

What did she have left to lose?

Kaia stood by the fence at the end of the playground, watching and smiling.

Happily ever after, she thought—or, at least, happy for another couple weeks until the whole mess blows up in their faces.

She looked again at Kane and Beth, one of the more mismatched twosomes she’d ever seen. Al four of them were flirting with disaster, and Kaia was more than happy to help things along. It passed the time, after al .

Besides, she was good at it—making trouble, causing chaos. She may not know how to make herself happy—but she was damn good at making other people miserable.

And she was just getting started.

about the author

Robin Wasserman enjoys writing about high school—but wakes up every day grateful that she doesn’t have to relive it. She recently abandoned the beaches and boulevards of Los Angeles for the chil y embrace of the East Coast, as al that sun and fun gave her too little to complain about. She now lives and writes in New York City, which she claims to love for its vibrant culture and intel ectual life. In reality, she doesn’t make it to museums nearly enough, and actual y just loves the city for its pizza, its shopping, and the fact that at 3 a.m. you can always get anything you need—and you can get it delivered.