Miranda heaved an exaggerated sigh.
“No, I can take a shower—or thirty of them—all by myself. I’m a big girl, after all.”
“I’ll come over tonight and we’ll do final damage control, I promise.”
“I can’t wait to see the look on my mother’s face when she sees this one,” Miranda said with a sudden smile. “You know, it’ll almost be worth it.”
“You see? There’s a silver lining after all.”
Miranda shot Harper her patented Look of Death. “I said, almost.”
“It’s such a beautiful day,” Kane had mused. “Why don’t we do this study thing outside?”
Beth had reluctantly agreed. It’s not that she didn’t want to go outside—in fact, on a day like this, with a light breeze blowing and only a few wispy clouds in the sky, the last thing she wanted to do was sit inside and stare at fractions. But they had a lot to get through, and not much time. Being outside would be a distraction.
It was just so hard to say no to him.
They ended up in the playground of their old elementary school, stretched out on a picnic blanket between the swings and the jungle gym. The playground served as a park on the weekends, and laughing children swarmed all around them.
Still, Kane stayed focused. More focused even than Beth, who kept looking around at the playground equipment with something akin to longing. She came here by herself sometimes, at dusk, to sit on the swings and watch the sunset. It was a good place to think—surrounded by memories of a simpler time, all those games of tag and four square, the races she’d run, the games she’d lost and won, the swings she’d been on constantly, whooshing through the air as if she could fly.
She’d be going to college in a year, and there were very few parts of the town that she’d be sorry to see go. She’d been born here, grown up here, knew it inside and out. There were a few people she never wanted to leave behind—Adam, of course, her family, and—she looked at Kane—new friends too, the ones she’d missed getting to know all these years. But the town itself? She was ready to leave Grace in the past, never to be seen again. All except the playground. It was a special place. Her place.
And really, it was all that remained of her childhood.
Kane yawned and stretched himself out on the picnic blanket, preening in the sun like a lazy and self-satisfied cat.
“Late night last night?” Beth asked sarcastically, trying her best not to admire his impeccable physique.
“I know, I know, Heather’s a little—”
“Hilary,” Beth corrected him.
“What?”
“Her name was Hilary,” she reminded him with a reproachful glare.
Kane at least had the grace to blush.
“Ah, yeah. Hilary’s a little—well, she’s not like you. She’s just … fun.”
“So I’m not fun?” Why do I even care what he thinks of me? she asked herself.
“You’re fun and so much more, Manning,” he said languidly.
“And that means what, exactly?”
“It means you’re cute when you’re mad—anyone ever tell you that?”
“You’re changing the subject,” she pointed out, ignoring the compliment. That was just the kind of thing Kane said, after all, she reminded herself. Just the kind of guy he was. It didn’t mean anything.
Kane sighed. “It means that you’re fun, but that’s not all there is. Girls like Heather—”
“Hilary.”
“Whatever—they’re a dime a dozen,” he explained. “Girls like you? There aren’t so many.”
Now it was Beth who blushed. “I just hate to see you wasting your time, Kane. You deserve so much more.”
“I can’t believe this is coming from you, of all people.”
“Why me, ‘of all people’?”
“Come on, Beth,” he said, looking away. “I know how girls like you see me. You think I’m a sleazy flirt. Not worth your time. Girls like you think I’m worthless.”
“Not all of us,” she murmured.
“What?”
She was suddenly struck by the unusual sincerity, the urgency in his voice. And she didn’t like it.
“Let’s just—uh—let’s get back to work,” she suggested, bending back over her notebook. “So, when the exponent is in the denominator, you want to …”
The problem was, she didn’t know how she saw him anymore—but she suspected it was time to stop looking.
Adam had been surprised when Harper called suggesting they take a walk down to the old playground. Reminiscing about the past wasn’t usually her thing—Harper was all about living in the moment.
But neither of them had anything better to do, and it couldn’t hurt to go visit the site of some of their best exploits. Just because Beth was off somewhere studying with Kane, again, didn’t mean he needed to sit around the house all day sulking. He needed to take his mind off of things—and no one did that better than Harper.
“Why do you keep checking your cell every five minutes?” he asked her, just after pointing out the spot where Danny Burger, fifth-grade stud, had wet his pants. In fear of ruining his too-cool-for-school rep, he’d promised the witnesses three packs of baseball cards each in return for their eternal silence—and then run the whole two miles back to his house. “Are you expecting a call?”
“No, I left my watch at home and I just want to see what time it is—I have a dentist appointment later. Let’s walk a little faster,” she suggested.
As they reached the gate of the small playground, Harper pointed toward a couple by the swings.
“Isn’t that Beth? And Kane?” she asked.
Adam squinted at the couple—it was them, all right. Kane was pushing Beth higher and higher, and he could imagine the exuberant look on her face as she stretched her toes closer and closer to the sky. He’d seen it enough times himself.
Harper raised a hand to wave, but he grabbed it and stopped her.
“No, let’s just—just wait, okay?”
She gave him a cryptic look, but shrugged in agreement. So they just stood at the fence and watched.
“What are they doing here, anyway?” Harper asked. “I thought they were studying.”
Adam’s stomach clenched. “Yeah, so did I.”
“We should really get back to work now,” Beth complained, breathless with exertion.
Kane checked his watch. One thirty-five.
Harper had better be out there somewhere, he thought.
It was the perfect setup—the picnic, the romantic frolicking on the swings. And that whole heart-to-heart on his dating life? Talk about an unexpected pleasure. So Beth was paying attention, was she? He’d been unsure of how to play it last night—too much macho pig with all the leering and groping? Would it erode all the hard work he’d put into changing her image of him?
But as soon as he’d seen the look on her face, he’d known he had her. She was disgusted, sure—but she also, for a split second, wanted to be Hilary, wanted to forget all her uptight, repressed, do-gooder rules and restrictions and just fall into his arms. It was a look he’d recognize anywhere.
One thirty-seven. Time for the coup de grâce.
“Just a couple more minutes, sarge?” he grinned down at her—and, surprise, surprise, she couldn’t resist. “Just once down the slide,” he suggested.
“Okay,” she conceded. “But you first.”
Perfect.
He slid down, waving as he went and then tapped her lightly on the shoulder. “Your turn, teach.”
She climbed up the narrow ladder and stood paused at the top, looking down at him dubiously.
“This is a little higher than I remember,” she said nervously.
“What are you, chicken?” he called up to her. “Five-year-olds slide down this thing. Don’t worry, I’ll be down here at the bottom to catch you.”
He waited for her, and watched as she slid down the rusty and pitted metal, her blond hair cascading behind her, a grin of delight illuminating her fl
ushed and open face. Kane had been with a lot of girls, but he’d never known any who could be made so happy by so little. In fact, he usually ran a little more toward the high maintenance end of the spectrum, girls who could accept a gold bracelet with an upturned nose and a faint “Thanks, I guess.” But Beth—he shook his head in bemusement. Give her a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie, swing her through the air, it would be enough. She’d be happy. And it was real happiness, the kind that spills over its borders, pours into everyone around you. That he’d never seen before.
She slid with a squeal into his arms, and the momentum knocked them both backward onto the scraggly bed of grass, where they lay tangled in each other’s arms, heaving with laughter. For a moment Kane even forgot why he was there, what he was doing, who was watching.
Then he remembered—and felt a sudden stab of an emotion so unfamiliar he barely recognized it: guilt.
Adam stood motionless, his face impassive, carved in stone.
Harper reached a tentative hand out toward him.
“Adam, I’m sure it’s just—”
“Don’t, Harper. Just—don’t.”
He was clenching the chain link fence so hard that his knuckles turned white, and Harper could see a small muscle twitching just above his jawline—but those were the only exterior signs of whatever was churning within him at the sight of Beth and Kane rolling around on the ground in each other’s arms.
“I’m sure it’s nothing,” he said quietly. “They’re just taking a break. Nothing wrong with that.”
Harper stayed silent, waiting for him to give her some sign of what to do next. Finally he pulled himself away from the fence, turned his back on the playground.
“Let’s go,” he said shortly. “Let’s just go.”
Harper hated to see Adam in pain, much less to know that she was the one responsible for it—but in this case … well, wasn’t it better for him to suffer a little pain now, if it would help him avoid a much greater pain later on, when he finally realized on his own that Beth was the wrong girl? Or when she left him, for college or for another guy or for no reason at all? Just look at her, Harper thought in disgust. Running around with Kane, throwing herself into his arms. The timing might have been a trick, but what they were looking at? That was real. That was betrayal.
And when you looked at it that way, she was doing Adam a favor. Just helping a good friend see the light.
Miranda had snuck into her house as quietly as she could.
It wasn’t quietly enough.
At the sound of the door her mother came clattering down the stairs and, after a horrified tirade on the state of Miranda’s head, let loose with the bad news: She needed some peace and quiet. Which meant she was sending Miranda’s little sister, Stacy, to the Frontier Festival—in care of Miranda.
And she wouldn’t take “No way in hell am I leaving the house like this” for an answer.
The festival turned out to be just as bad as she’d expected. Hokey and crowded, it would have been punishment enough on its own—but with green hair? It was torture. Everywhere they went, Miranda felt like people were staring at her (perhaps because Stacy kept pointing at her head and shouting, “My sister has green hair!”). They might as well put me in the freak show, she thought drily. Come one, come all, see the Amazing Human Chia Pet.
“Hey, it’s the mean, green, fighting machine!” One of the barkers suddenly called out. “Where are you going?”
She looked around. The screechy voice booming from the megaphone could only be coming from the tall, gawky boy manning a dunk booth—and it could only be directed toward Miranda.
She shook it off. Just keep walking, she told herself.
“Come on, show us your stuff, Incredible Hulk style!” he called. “Three throws for a dollar—I dare you.”
“Randa, he’s talking to you,” Stacy pointed out, eyes wide. As if she hadn’t noticed.
“Forget it, Stacy. We’re leaving.”
“But—”
“What are you, scared? Where are you hiding your wings, chicken?” When he started clucking, that was it. Enough was enough. Miranda heaved a huge sigh and turned her sister back around.
“Come on, Stacy, it’s time to dunk a dunce.”
The annoying barker—a tall, skinny teen with glasses and a striped T-shirt that made him look like a live action Where’s Waldo—grinned and collected their money, then scrambled up onto a wooden bench that hovered precariously over the tank of water. He waved cheerfully.
“Worried?” Miranda asked as her sister readied herself to take a throw at the bull’s-eye target.
“Nah—how about you?” He snickered. “You’re looking a little green in the gills there.”
As the loser cackled to himself, Miranda leaned down to Stacy and encouraged her.
“Throw hard, sweetie—as hard as you can.”
Ball one.
Miss!
“Nice try, ladies. I’m shaking in my moccasins.”
Moccasins. She should have figured. This guy had loser written all over him.
Ball two.
Miss!
“One more shot—but you’re winners either way.”
“You’ll give her a prize even if she doesn’t hit the target?” Miranda asked, pleasantly surprised.
“No, of course not—but don’t you feel like you’ve won just by meeting me?”
“Won what?”
“The game of life, of course.”
“Only if you’re the booby prize,” Miranda muttered. She grabbed the last ball from Stacy’s hands. “Let me take this one, Stace.”
Ball three.
Crack!
Splash!
Miranda and Stacy burst into uncontrollable laughter as the annoying loser flailed wildly in the shallow water, finally popping up for air.
“You think that’s funny, do you?”
“Hilarious,” Miranda agreed.
“Well, just remember you said that.”
Before Miranda could figure out what he was talking about, he climbed out, soaking wet, and slammed his palm into a bright red panel by the tank.
“Better hold your nose,” he suggested cheerfully.
Too late.
A bucket overturned over Miranda’s head, unleashing a flood of icy water.
“What the hell!” she screamed, looking down at herself, post-tidal wave. Her clothes were soaked and sticking to her body, marred by a few light green streaks—apparently her hair was still water soluble.
“Language, language,” water boy cautioned her with a smirk, pointing toward Stacy. “There are children here, you know.” He grabbed a giant stuffed bear off the rack and handed it to the girl.
“Here you go, sweetie. Good job.” He turned to Miranda. “And you.”
“I get a prize too?” she asked, holding her arms out from her sides in a pathetic attempt to air dry. “I think you’ve already given me enough.”
“You get the best prize of all.” He scrawled something on a piece of paper and handed it to her.
She uncrumpled it and looked uncomprehendingly at what he’d written: “Greg—555-6733.”
“My phone number,” he explained, a bright red blush spreading across his face and out to the tips of his oversize ears.
“Wha—?”
“I think your hair’s cute,” he spit out, eyes darting away in embarrassment. “And so are you.”
Kaia shut off the TV in frustration. There were only so many hours of nothing on that she could take. But what else was she supposed to do? She’d read a book, read the latest issue of InStyle—twice—even done her homework (truly a move of last resort). And it was still only Saturday night. She’d pretty much burned her bridges for what passed as A list social life around here, and she didn’t have much interest in palling around with social climbers who thought that hanging with someone who used to be at the top of a social ladder was the next best thing to ever being there themselves. And what did that leave? Kaia, alone and bored in her father
’s palatial monstrosity of a midlife crisis (complete with pool table, hot tub, giant flat screen TV). After a few weeks trapped in small-town hell, even the luxury oasis wasn’t cutting it.
She wondered what was going on back at the home front. Kaia got an e-mail or two a week from members of her old crowd (even, once in a while, a note from her mother, complaining about the decorator’s incompetence or her dermatologist’s too frequent vacations). But that was about it.
Principle dictated that she wait for them to call her and describe how empty life was without Kaia. Boredom dictated that she call them and torture herself with the knowledge of the life she should be living.
Boredom—and masochism—won out.
“Kaia, we miss you so much!” Alexa fawned. (They had all fawned over her, back in New York, jockeying for favor as if hoping her light would shine down on them and redeem their pitiful lives. It was a horrible way to think about your friends—but then, Alexa and the rest weren’t really friends, were they? So what did it matter?) “K, you missed the sale of the season yesterday. Bergdorf’s—you would not believe the scene.”
“Oh, I can imagine.”
“I should have snagged you something, but it was just too crazy.”
“Well, not much call for Marc Jacobs out here in the sticks, anyway,” Kaia admitted.
“Oh, that’s right,” Alexa said, her voice dripping with pity. “Burlap sack is maybe more your speed these days, right?” A beat. “Just kidding, of course.”
“Of course,” Kaia said drily.
“How are the hotties out there? You climbed into bed with any cowboys yet?”
“A few. It’s slim pickings, though. Like Presley Prep on a Monday morning.” Showing up in homeroom at eight a.m. on a Monday, sans hangover, was basically admitting to the world that you’d spent the weekend poring over your stamp collection. Or, Kaia thought, looking around in self-pity, forming a permanent body-size lump in your couch, flipping aimlessly through the TV channels 24/7.