Wrath - 4 (10 page)

“What are you doing here?” Reed almost never showed up at her house. It wasn’t his style. Instead, she would cal him and they’d meet on some neutral territory. Was it possible he’d come tonight to check up on his handiwork, and see whether she’d fal en apart?

It couldn’t be him, she told herself. Not Reed, the one person out here she’d grown to trust. Except—

How much do you really know about him?

Nothing.

Enough.

“Got tired of admiring you from afar,” Reed said, smiling. “Figured it was time you met your secret admirer.” Alarmed, Kaia took a step back.

“Hey, it was just a joke,” he said softly, taking her hands in his. “I just wanted to see you, that’s al . Missed you. What’s going on?” Kaia was glad she’d turned the floodlights off before going inside, so there was no way he could have seen her vandalized car in the darkness. For a second, she considered flicking them back on and tel ing him everything, but she didn’t want him to look at her as a victim. Or maybe she was afraid he wouldn’t be surprised.

“Nothing,” she said, insisting to herself that it was true. “I’m glad you came.”

She forced herself to forget her ridiculous suspicions and forget the fact that the maids were out for the night and her father wasn’t due back until tomorrow. And after they shared a long, deep kiss, she was almost able to do it.

Kaia led him out back to the hot tub, tossing him a pair of her father’s trunks. Then she ducked into the changing room and slipped into her new bikini, determined not to let some perverted loser ruin her night.

As they let themselves sink into the churning water, Kaia knew she’d made the right decision. This was just what she needed to relax, and remind herself that Reed wasn’t a threat.

“Glad I came over?”

Kaia launched herself across the hot tub and floated into Reed’s arms. The nearly unbearable heat was even worse with his wet, sticky body pressed up against hers, but Kaia didn’t mind. The heat was refreshing—cleansing. “Definitely.”

He wrapped himself around her and then sank down farther into the seat, so they were both nearly submerged in the roiling water, with only their faces peeking out into the sharp winter breeze. He tipped his head back. “Look at that,” he said reverently.

Kaia fol owed his gaze. The stars seemed unnatural y bright. One of them, twinkling by the horizon, had a dark, reddish glow. “I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else right now,” she marveled. Contentment was a new thing for her.

“Good, because you’re staying right where you are,” he said, turning her around to face him. Her hair floated in a halo around her, and she remembered that when she was a little girl, she had pretended to be a mermaid. She’d always thought she looked most beautiful in the water.

She inhaled deeply, burrowing her face into his neck. The water had washed away the ever-present stench of pot, the lingering grease from his tow truck and his shift at Guido’s

—he was fresh and clean. Just like new. “I like the way you smel .”

“I like
you
.” He kissed her, roughly at first, his tongue thrusting into her mouth, tangling itself with hers, their breath loud and hurried in her ear. Then as she nibbled on his lower lip and opened her eyes, he opened his, and their movement slowed, until they were almost frozen, their lips connected, their eyes locked.

“What the hel is going on here?”

Reed flinched and thrust himself away from her, but Kaia didn’t refuse to let go. She’d recognize the harsh, patrician voice anywhere—Daddy Dearest was hard to forget. She wasn’t about to let him ruin her fun, not tonight. She needed Reed by her side, as a flesh-and-blood reminder that she wasn—t alone.

“I should think that’s pretty obvious,” she quipped, final y looking up. He loomed over them, far enough back to ensure no water would touch his custom-tailored Ermenegildo Zegna suit and Bruno Magli loafers. “What are you doing home?”

“I live here,” he reminded her.

It was only technical y true. Two or three nights a month he lived there. The rest of the time it was difficult to remember his existence. The maid could have warned her he was due home tonight, Kaia thought in irritation. No matter—she could be dealt with later. For now, the damage was done.

“What’s the problem, Father?” she asked innocently. “I’m just making new friends. Isn’t that what you wanted? I thought the whole point of sending me out here was so I could meet some new people. You know, good influences.”

She tried to stroke Reed’s hair, but he jerked away and pul ed out of her grasp.

Her father ignored her, as usual.

“Who are you?” he asked, glaring at Reed. “Get off my daughter and out of my Jacuzzi.” Reed stumbled to his feet, stepped up onto the wooden deck and, dripping, extended a hand to Keith Sel ers.

Mistake.

Kaia’s father looked at him as he might a wet, stinky dog who’d tried to rub up against the leg of his $1,200 pants.

“Reed Sawyer, sir,” Reed said, dropping his hand when it became obvious no one was going to shake it.

“I know you, don’t I?”

“He works at the garage down on Main Street,” Kaia said brightly. “You probably saw him there when you took the Jag in for service.” Now Keith Sel ers looked as if the wet dog
had peed
on his $1,200 pants.

“Or maybe he delivered your pizza,” Kaia added helpful y, just to dig the knife in a little deeper. She knew very wel that Keith Sel ers
never
ordered pizza, even when he wasn’t on his no-carb diet.

Her father heaved a weary sigh.

“What are you doing, Kaia?” he asked, shaking his head. “This is a lot of effort to go to, just to spite me.”

“This has nothing to do with you,” Kaia snapped. She climbed out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself, handing one to Reed as wel . He took it without looking at her.

“Why else would you be associating with this kind of trash?” Keith Sel ers shrugged his shoulders and then strode back toward the house. On his way, he hit the lights, dropping them into darkness. Kaia could no longer see Reed’s face—or guess what he might be thinking. “Get him out of here, Kaia,” he cal ed back to her, in a voice she knew better than to disobey. “I know you’l do whatever you want—but you’re not doing it in my house.”

It was so pathetic when he actual y tried to act parental. He was just too out of practice for it to stick.

“Come on,” she said, taking Reed’s hand and pul ing him toward the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

“I’m going,” Reed agreed, pul ing his hand away. He rested it firmly on her shoulder. “You stay.”

“What? Why?”
Listen to me,
she thought in disgust,
needy and pathetic
. “Who cares what he thinks?” she asked. “I don’t.”

“I think you do,” he said slowly, avoiding her gaze. “And that’s the problem.”

He walked away, and because she didn’t want to seem weak, she didn’t fol ow. She let the towel drop to the floor of the deck and in the darkness groped her way back to the forgiving waters of the hot tub.

Damn him,
she thought, sinking in. Damn him for his pride, or stubbornness, or whatever had made him leave.

And damn her father. He’d been absent most of her life—was
still
absent—and despite the fact that she never asked anything of him, he kept taking everything that mattered to her. He’d taken her home, her credit cards, her freedom—and now Reed.

He wouldn’t be happy until she was left alone, with nothing.

Oh wait—

Mission accomplished.

He didn’t go straight to his pickup truck, but instead wandered off into the darkness, tel ing himself he was exploring the grounds—but the truth was, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. He stopped after a few minutes, realizing that he had a perfect view of the back deck hot tub, Kaia’s figure il uminated in the darkness. She was so beautiful, he couldn’t bring himself to turn away. Especial y since it was becoming clear that the two of them didn’t belong together, not in the real world. Out here, watching, he could forget al that and just appreciate her. He could remember the way she’d felt in his arms, and forget that she was likely just playing him, stringing him along for her own purposes.

Reed sighed, resisting the urge to light up. He needed something to take the edge off. Kaia was like a drug that made everything seem too real. It was as if he lived the rest of his life in black and white. With Kaia, the world wasn’t just brighter—it was blinding Technicolor.

And it was exhausting.

Reed spent most of his life hanging on the sidelines. It was his natural place, just as waiting and watching was his natural state. But with Kaia he found himself acting, rather than reacting, his normal y placid mind consumed with questions: Why did she want him? Why did he want her? How would things end, and when?

Maybe it had been a mistake to get involved at al .

Reed decided to light up after al , and inhaled deeply, relishing the heat that spread through his lungs. Being with Kaia meant being in the center, under the spotlight. And he just wasn’t made for that kind of hassle. He lived on the fringes. He didn’t
do
. He watched.

“This is a very quite serious charge, Ms. Grace.” Jack Powel frowned sternly at her, and ran a hand through his floppy brown hair. “Do you have any evidence to back up these claims?”

Other than absolute certainty in the pit of her stomach? Other than nearly explicit—but undocumented—admissions from both suspects? Uh …

“No,” she admitted. “I was hoping you could handle that. Now that you know what you’re looking for.”

“And why come to me with this information? Why not the vice principal, or someone else in the administration?”

“Wel , I figure they must have used the newspaper equipment to print the flyer, and you
are
the sponsor. It seemed like your department.” Harper hoped it sounded convincing.

She wasn’t about to admit that when you’re turning in your former best friend for stabbing you in the back, it’s more palatable to do so with the hottest teacher in the history of Haven High. Besides, Vice Principal Sorrento had a creepy birthmark on his forehead that had already eaten most of his hair and would surely soon get started on his face. Mr. Powel , on the other hand, could have been Hugh Grant’s stunt double—and pretending she was starring in one of those movies where the sassy American fal s into bed with the dapper Englishman was almost enough to distract her from the task at hand.

She’d woken up that morning determined to act. Striking back was the best way to keep from obsessing over Miranda’s words and what it meant that the one person who knew her best had decided she wasn’t worth knowing.

“Beth Manning and Miranda Stevens are two of my best students,” Powel said dubiously. “Are you sure—”

“It was them, Mr. Powel . I’m positive. Just look into it—you’l see I was right.”

For a moment, Harper pictured how Miranda’s face would look when she got summoned to the vice principal’s office to receive her punishment, sure to be especial y harsh under the new “no-tolerance” regime. But she pushed the image out of her mind.

Miranda had no regrets, right?

Fine. Good. Then neither would she.

In her backpack, Beth carried: four sharpened Dixon Ticonderoga pencils, and a pale pink pencil sharpener in the shape of a rose. Just in case. One Mead notebook and one matching folder for each class, color coded. A folded-up picture of her twin brothers, stuffed into the front pocket. Two dol ars in quarters, for vending machine snacks. A pack of wintergreen Eclipse gum, to help her stay awake in history class, where the teacher had a bad habit of droning on and on about his long-ago European vacation. A Winnie the Pooh wal et she’d gotten on a family trip to Disneyland and had never had the heart to replace. And today, Beth carried two neatly typed, four-page-long speeches on the subject of education, each bound together with a single staple positioned in the upper-left-hand corner.

One speech was eloquent, witty, and succinct, seamlessly shifting back and forth between heartfelt personal anecdotes and powerful generalizations. It was a sure winner.

The second speech was awkward, wordy, and nonsensical, fil ed with run-on sentences and the occasional misspel ing. It was hackneyed and repetitive and made stunningly obvious pronouncements such as, “Without teachers, there could be no schools.” It was a loser, from beginning to end.

The first speech was written by a Jane A. Wilder, of Norfolk, New Jersey. The second speech was written by Beth Manning, hastily spit out in the early hours of the morning because, at four A.M., she’d final y given up on sleep and decided that she needed a backup plan in case she decided not to let Jane A. Wilder unknowingly save the day.

As she approached the principal’s office, she took both essays out of her bag. There was a box, just inside the door, marked SPEECHES FOR THE GOVERNOR. It was almost empty—but lying on top was one titled “Education: You Break It,You Buy It.” By Harper Grace.

Beth resisted the temptation to pul it out of the box and read it—she’d rather not know. And she resisted the even stronger temptation to take it from the box, stuff it in her backpack, and run away.