Envy - 2 (21 page)

Miranda needed someone good, someone solid. Real y, 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 cal ed, 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.”

“Wel 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 pul ed her toward the bus.

“Our chariot awaits, madame,” he told her gal antly. “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: Al she felt was a rush of anticipation and excitement, and the warm certainty that everything was final y fal ing into place, exactly as she’d planned.

She found a seat for herself on the bus and watched out the window as they pul ed out of the lot and onto the open road. The road stretched ahead of them, and Grace soon fel behind—and as the miles wore on, her heart grew lighter and lighter. It was al 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 final y be over.

The pit stop was, almost literal y, 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 smal 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 cel reception. Just in one spot, behind the semi-outhouse and a few feet from where the owner had tethered a sal ow, swaybacked horse, but one spot was al 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 kil ing him. He would go no farther.

“Hel o? Beth?” he shouted when she picked up the phone, trying to make himself heard through the static.

“Adam? Is that you?”

“Beth?” He could barely hear her.

“Where
are
you?” she asked, her voice punctuated by static and silence. “You’re cutting in and out.”

“Beth, I wanted to apologize.” It took a great deal of effort to get the words out—since real y, it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“What? You want to what?”

“I’m sorry!” he shouted.

“Did you say you can’t hear me? I can’t hear you, either.”

“Beth, I just want to …”

She interrupted, but her response was incomprehensible. There was too much static, too many moments of dead air.

“Adam, I—you, but you—if—and then Kane—”

“What? What about Kane?”

“—have to go, Adam—later?”

“Beth, wait!” he cal ed uselessly.

Disconnected.

“Nervous?” Harper asked, hoping that her voice sounded normal and that Adam wouldn’t notice the desire throbbing beneath her careful y casual smile. They stood at the edge of the Olympic-size pool, waiting for Adam’s heat to start, and as Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other and anxiously watched his teammates finish up the butterfly relay, Harper watched … Adam.

He was wearing nothing but tight orange briefs and an orange and black swim cap with goggles strapped around his head. His tan skin glistened, stil wet from his warm-up laps. Harper’s eyes traced a path down his taut biceps, his chiseled abs, the angular curves of his muscles…. His body was like a work of art.

“Not real y,” he murmured, looking out at the huge crowd of screaming spectators. “It’s just a meet, just like any other.” The lie was obvious in his face, but Harper didn’t cal him on it.

“Good,” she said warmly. “Nothing to be nervous about.”

He looked past her into the distance for a moment, a wistful look crossing his face.

“I just wish …” His voice trailed off, but Harper knew what he was thinking. He wished that Beth were there. Sweet, loving Beth, his little good luck charm, always there to support him in his time of need. But she wasn’t there now, was she?

Better get used to it
, she warned him silently.

“Never mind,” he said, shaking it off. “It’s going to be fine. I’m going to be fine.”

“You’re going to be
great
” she corrected him—and suddenly, without fearing what he would do or think, threw her arms around him.
Just a friendly hug
, she told herself, pretending not to notice the warm touch of his bare skin against her body.
For now
. “Good luck,” she murmured.

“Thanks, Harper,” he whispered, clutching her tightly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

So was she.

Adam loved swimming. He loved the way his body sliced through the water, he loved the harsh, unforgiving rhythm of the strokes, and he loved the feel of his muscles working in concert, disconnected from his mind, from worries of speed or victory, just pushing and pushing, toward their limit. And, on good days, beyond.

But most of al , he loved the silence. When he dove off the edge and slipped beneath the water, the noise of the world dropped away. The screams and cheers of the crowd disappeared, and the universe narrowed to a single bluish tunnel of water. Nothing mattered except his body and his breathing, and forcing his limbs to cut through the water, surging ever ahead. He could shut out al the background noise of his life, shut off his mind, and just focus. Just be.

But today, with so much riding on this race—and with so many problems waiting for him back on dry land—he worried that the water wouldn’t work its familiar magic. As he stood poised at the edge of the pool, waiting for his moment, he couldn’t get the noise to stop, couldn’t find his focus. It wasn’t just the screaming crowd, or the yel s of his teammates. It was the sound of Beth’s voice in his head, tel ing him she wouldn’t be there. Tel ing him she’d rather stay home, with Kane. Faces flashed through his head: an apologetic Beth, a smirking Kane, and then Harper, with such a look of calm and comfort that he almost believed her, for a moment, that everything would be okay. At the thought of Harper, the voices almost quieted, and the rapid pounding of Adam’s heart subsided—but only for a moment. Because thinking of Harper cheering for him on the sidelines reminded him of Beth’s absence. And that led him back to Kane. He couldn’t escape it, the sound of his own thoughts and fears. He couldn’t clear his mind, couldn’t concentrate, and then—

The sharp report of the starting gun.

A dive off the edge, the sharp pain of cold water slamming into him.

A new world, silent and awash in blue.

His mind shut down, his body took over—and Adam final y let go.

They’d had a marathon study day, cramming last-minute vocab and equations into their heads for hours on end until even Beth felt like her brain was about to melt.

“I’m total y burnt,” she final y said, throwing down her pen. “How about a break? We can pick up with this again in the morning.”

“You?” Kane asked with mock incredulity. “My faithful taskmaster is actual y suggesting we stop early? How
inconceivable
!”

“Hey, I can be
stupefying
sometimes.”

They both burst into laughter at the ridiculously unnecessary use of SAT words.

“God, we have turned into complete SAT nerds, haven’t we?” Beth moaned through her laughter.

“Harvard, here I come.” He looked serious suddenly. “And it’s al thanks to you.”

“Oh, no, Kane,” she said, blushing. “I don’t even know why you wanted my help in the first place—you’re such a quick study. I barely had to do anything.”

“You did plenty,” he insisted. “And I stil can’t believe you were wil ing to waste so much time on a screwup like me, not when you had so much else you needed to take care of.”

“It was my pleasure,” Beth assured him. “What would I have done without the company?”

They sat across the table from each other, silent for a moment. The air was charged with tension. Beth stared into his eyes, wanted to look away, but couldn’t. She didn’t know what she was doing or feeling—but she knew it was dangerous.

“Wel , I don’t know about you,” she said final y, with a forced joviality intended to break the intensity of the moment. Her too-loud voice seemed to echo in the stil room. “But I’m
voraciously ravenous
. You want to meet back here early tomorrow?”

Kane smiled. “Actual y, I think I’ve got a better idea—meet me at the northeast corner of Dwyer Park in an hour? I’ve got a little surprise for you.”

“Tonight? Don’t you have a hot date or something?” She winced inwardly at the thought of him groping yet another bimbo—or worse, someone actual y substantive, someone he could real y fal for.

She stopped herself, suddenly—that wouldn’t be worse, that would be
better
. She wanted the best for Kane, she reminded herself. He should be with someone good, someone substantive—someone else.

“There’s nowhere I’d rather be tonight than with you,” he assured her. “Now, I know I’m only a poor stand-in for Adam—”

“Forget about Adam,” she said, a little more harshly than she’d intended. “You’re right. We’ve been working hard, and we deserve to celebrate—you and me.”

“Okay, then don’t forget,” he said, heading toward the door. “Dwyer Park, northeast corner, one hour. Can’t wait.” Neither could she.

Adam raised his trophy over his head one more time, and the Haven High fans sent up a deafening cheer. He’d been grinning so hard, and for so long, that his face felt

stretched out of shape, but he couldn’t stop. Third place in the four hundred-yard IM at regional championships—it was better than he’d ever expected to do. And if he was disappointed to have lost out on first place by only a few seconds—wel , his beaming teammates and the adoring crowd had wiped such thoughts from his mind.

He turned to Harper, who’d been standing loyal y by his side al day long. She’d been there to wish him luck before his races, and had greeted him with a howl of triumph every time he’d pul ed himself out of the pool. After his big event, the four-hundred IM, he’d swept her, soaking wet, into a tight hug—relieved the race was over, relieved he had someone with whom to share his victory. Together, they’d watched the rest of the heats, cheered on his teammates, waited through the interminable award ceremony. And when Adam had stood to receive his two-foot-high trophy, Harper’s shouts of encouragement had risen above the noise of the crowd.