The apathetic manner, the almost inhuman poise—Kaia, she was sure, never fought with her boyfriends. Never questioned what she “really” wanted, and whether it was right or wrong. And, Beth was sure, never worried that her life was boring, that she was boring. Kaia was just like Kane in that way—and maybe, Beth suddenly realized, that was why she was so drawn to him, in spite of herself. And she was. Drawn to him. Even though she could only admit it to herself at times like this, alone, stranded between night and day, waiting for sleep—or sunrise.
It didn’t matter, of course, because she was with Adam. Good, solid Adam. They were two peas in a pod. A perfect match. She knew that. She loved that. And yet …
He was the only boy she’d ever dated. The only boy she’d ever held. Not that she was bored. She was just … curious. And if she could, for just one day, abandon herself, if she could leave good, dutiful Beth behind, if she could borrow Kaia’s mind, Kaia’s life—then she could know what it felt like to live without consequences, without guilt, to take whatever she wanted, to have it all. Just a one-day vacation from her cookie-cutter life, from always doing the right thing. That was all she asked.
Just one wild day.
And one wild night.
What had happened to her wild nights?
Sprawled across her Ralph Lauren sheets, her comforter kicked to the foot of the bed, Kaia opened her eyes with a sigh. She’d kept them closed as long as she could, hoping she could force sleep to come, but it wasn’t working. She just wasn’t tired—how could she be, when it was only one a.m. and she’d spent the night, like every night before it, lounging around her house?
Kaia’s body was designed for a different life—she’d trained it well over the years, and by now it expected a steady influx of loud music, flashing lights, hot bodies, and cold drinks. Every night—all night. That had been her old life in her old world. She’d done her best to pretend that it had all disappeared when she left: the city, the social scene, her old friends. She preferred to think of it all as frozen in limbo, awaiting her return.
But when reality hit, it hit hard. The city was still bursting with life, her “friends” were still partying till dawn—and the only thing frozen in limbo was Kaia. She hated them for it, and she hated her parents for causing it. Most of all she hated the hours she spent every night, alone in the dark room, staring at the ceiling and wishing she could do something about the endless, deep quiet seeping into her bedroom from the desert outside. She could play music, turn up the volume on the TV, it didn’t matter—somehow the desert silence managed to drown it all out. Made it impossible to forget how still everything was, and how empty—-just like her life.
Most of the time Kaia clung to her memories of the past, to her hard-edged city persona, clung to it with a death grip, for fear of forgetting who she was and where she’d come from, fear of turning into a small-town zombie content with the simple life. But there were moments, fleeting but sharp, when she just wished she could let it all go. Everyone else in this stupid town was so happy, so satisfied—what must it be like, Kaia wondered, to be able to inhabit such a narrow world without feeling like the walls were closing in?
What must it be like to be Beth, too timid to complain about what you had, too dim to wonder if there might be something more? Kaia had been spending a lot of time recently watching Beth, wondering how her mind might work—and sometimes, to her horror, she’d actually wished she could, just for a moment, switch places with the girl. She had such a picture-perfect life—loving parents, loving boyfriend—all the things Kaia had never wanted, never thought she needed. And it was true, she didn’t need someone lying beside her, holding her, whispering that he loved her and that everything would be okay. She didn’t need to know if her mother missed her, or if her father would ever stop home for more than a night. That kind of thing was no more than a security blanket for the Beths of the world. It was just that late at night, alone and empty, Kaia sometimes wished she were one of them.
Beth, she was sure, didn’t stay up nights desperate for excitement, searching for trouble. Beth wasn’t constantly bored, restless, always on the hunt for the next hot spot, the next hot guy. Beth didn’t spend every minute wishing she were somewhere else, doing something else. Being someone else. No, when your life was placid, when you had what you wanted, no more and no less, you slept like a baby. It was only when you were dissatisfied, when your life seemed empty and you had nothing to fill it with, that you tossed and turned. Until finally, as always, you gave up on sleep and turned on the light.
Adam awoke with a start and flicked on the light, gasping with the relief of escaping a nightmare. He didn’t remember much of it, only that it had featured Beth and Kaia—and it had left him drenched in a cold sweat. He sat up in bed and took a few deep breaths, trying to wash all traces of the nightmare out of his mind so that he could safely fall back asleep.
His sleep had been filled with nightmares for weeks. They’d started the night after he slept with Kaia, and ever since Kane and Beth had started spending all that time together, his dreams had only gotten worse. Too much stress, he told himself, lying back down on the mattress. Adam had always liked to keep things simple. But now? Nothing was simple, not anymore. Certainly not his relationship with Beth. That was a minefield. When he was with her, he struggled over his every word, agonized over every action, searching fruitlessly for the magic combination that would put right whatever had gone wrong.
Nothing worked. And lately it seemed like everything that came out of his mouth just made things worse.
Kane, on the other hand, always knew the right thing to say. Adam could see it in Beth’s eyes—“Why can’t you be more like him?” She would never say it out loud, but he knew her well enough to read her thoughts, to know her desires. Kane was flashy, charismatic, Kane saw what he wanted and took it—and girls loved that. Adam had always thought Beth was different. But now … he wasn’t so sure.
Just once, he thought in frustration, just once, I’d like to know what it’s like. To win, every time, without trying. To effortlessly be the best, and have the world at your fingertips. Everything Adam had, he had only because Kane hadn’t thought it worth the trouble. Kane got good grades without studying, beat Adam on the courts without breaking a sweat, could get any girl he wanted just by curling up a corner of his lip in that famous Kane smirk. Adam worked so hard, at everything—and yet time and time again, it seemed he was always coming in second.
But Beth hadn’t been seduced by the flash or the glitter of Kane’s charm—Beth had chosen Adam. She’d been repulsed by Kane, she always told him, and seduced by Adam’s straightforward manner, his honest appeal. It had been the first time he and Kane had ever gone head-to-head over a girl—and the first competition Adam had ever truly won. But it seemed the battle had never really ended. And maybe he hadn’t won after all.
Adam had never wanted to be Kane, had never even much admired Kane. But if only he could just borrow a little of whatever it was that allowed him to lead a charmed life. Adam was sure that Kane would never have gotten sucked in by Kaia’s act, would never have been fooled into believing anything she said. Kane would know exactly the right thing to say to get his girlfriend past the whole virgin issue—and he’d do it so smoothly that she would think it had been her idea. And Kane would never, never let another guy sweep his girlfriend off her feet. Kane didn’t get brushed aside, ignored, overlooked. Ever.
Kane had “it,” whatever it was. And Adam just didn’t. Instead, he had a work ethic, a conscience, and a face that couldn’t lie. And, for now, he had Beth.
But with Kane on the prowl, how long would that last?
How long could it last, this merry sidekick game, before she got fed up? Miranda lay flat on her back in bed, her eyes tracing the tiny cracks in the white ceiling paint. She’d stayed up late, shampooing and shampooing until finally she’d managed to wash most of the green out of her hair. She hoped.
And now she’d been lying in bed for the past hour
, trying to work up some kind of excitement about this dunk tank guy, trying to picture his body curled up against her in the bed, his hands crawling across her body … but it wasn’t working. She kept losing her concentration, and his face kept morphing into Kane’s. She didn’t have to work at desiring Kane—it was the easiest thing she’d ever done. Imagining herself in Kane’s arms seemed as natural as breathing. Maybe because she had so much practice.
She knew what Harper had said—and she knew Harper was right—but still, did she have to like it? She didn’t see Harper forcing herself to date a loser, just because her first choice was “temporarily” unavailable.
But of course, that was Harper. Miranda sighed. You’d think she would be used to this by now. She’d been playing second fiddle to Harper since elementary school. “Partners in crime,” that’s what they always called themselves—but when she was alone, Miranda sometimes wondered. It didn’t feel like a partnership. It felt like Harper was out for herself, leaving Miranda to follow behind, cleaning up her messes.
Miranda shook away such disloyal thoughts. Just because Harper could be a little thoughtless, a little self-centered at times, was no reason to question her commitment. Maybe there was only one problem in this friendship: Just maybe, Miranda was jealous. She would never have admitted it out loud, but there were times—lots of times—when she looked at Harper and asked herself, Why not me? They’d started in the same place as wild, spunky outcasts, gone through all the same experiences—and yet Harper had blossomed into this alpha queen, while Miranda, it sometimes seemed, had never blossomed at all.
What did Harper have that she didn’t?
Beauty, she reminded herself.
Charisma.
Sex appeal.
And confidence.
Maybe that’s all it was—Harper knew what she wanted, and she believed she deserved it. So she went out and did whatever it took. Miranda, on the other hand? She knew what she wanted, beat herself up about it, then sat on her hands and did nothing.
And, when it came to Kane, it seemed Harper agreed with her—she wasn’t worthy. Didn’t deserve the guy of her dreams, apparently. She deserved to settle for something attainable, something subpar.
Miranda was no hanger-on, clinging to a friendship with Harper in the hopes that some small crumbs of desirability and popularity would fall to the ground at her feet. But a part of her was always waiting, wondering—when would Harper turn to her and say, “It’s your turn now”? When would she reveal her secret of success and teach Miranda how to be bold, beautiful, and … more like Harper?
After all, everyone knew Harper Grace had it all—so wasn’t there enough to share?
Harper had never been very good at the sharing thing. Maybe it came from being an only child. Or maybe it just came from her utter disdain for almost everyone who crossed her path. Why should she share? Who was more deserving than her of having … well, anything?
Which isn’t to say that there weren’t a few exceptions—obviously there were some people worth her time and goodwill. Well, at least two: Miranda and Adam.
But then, she wasn’t very good at sharing them, either. Which is why she’d hated Beth even before discovering her own feelings for Adam. Harper was supposed to be his top priority, and always had been. But when Beth showed up, everything changed. She’d stomped all over Harper and Adam’s friendship, pulled him away; even if she hadn’t been in love, Harper doubted she would have been able to stand it for very long.
She wouldn’t have to wait much longer, Harper comforted herself. The next day, she was planning to put Kaia’s plan into action. There was just one thing: What if it didn’t work?
Harper rolled over in bed, kicking at her blankets in frustration. She hated thinking of Beth, wanting what Beth had—Beth, of all people. So boring, so dull—she was nothing, compared to Harper. And yet she had the one thing that Harper wanted the most.
And it wasn’t just Beth. Kaia’d had him too.
It was infuriating, the way Harper couldn’t stop watching her enemies—even her friends—and wishing she had what they had. She would never want Beth’s life, Beth’s bland and muddled personality. So why did she spend so much time wishing she could take Beth’s place?
It was the same with Kaia, spoiled, self-centered, bitchy, rich Kaia. She had no friends, no life—but she had so much else. Harper looked around at her room with complete disgust. The shoddy pieces of furniture, shadowy silhouettes in the moonlight, were supposedly antiques, but to her they just seemed old and out of style. Her closet was bursting with imitation designer gear, discount shoes—and even those, her parents always claimed, were practically more than they could afford. Whereas Kaia was probably spread out on designer sheets beneath a mahogany four-poster bed, tucked away in a cozy corner of her giant estate. Kaia didn’t have to buy Frada (imitation Prada), and she didn’t have to worry that someone from school would spot her helping out at the family dry cleaning store on weekends.
Sometimes it seemed like everyone she knew had something she wanted. Money, men—it didn’t end there. She was even jealous of Adam’s good-natured honesty, Kane’s car—and his complete lack of scruples. Even Miranda had something Harper occasionally longed for: obscurity. She didn’t have to worry about people watching, judging her every move. She didn’t have to constantly perform. She could just be.
It was as if everyone had something, something that made their lives better, special—and what did Harper have?
For one thing, she had the admiration of every kid in school. But, late at night, deep in the back of her mind, a small voice questioned what they saw when they looked at her. Was it real? Or did it all rest on an elaborate bluff?
Because if Harper really was who they said she was, if she really did have anything a girl could ever want, why did she lie awake so many nights wishing she were someone—almost anyone—else?
Anyone else might have lain awake all night, every night, struggling with his conscience, worrying about his betrayal of a friend, wondering if he was doing the right thing.
Not Kane.
No, as he stretched himself out along the couch and tucked a thin blanket over himself, his mind was untroubled, his conscience clear.
And he did have a conscience—despite his constant boasts to the contrary. True, it didn’t get much of a workout. But it was, like everything else about Kane, fully functioning—and, he insisted to himself, in this case it just had nothing to say.
He flicked on the TV—he needed it to fall asleep, to fill the silence of his empty house—and closed his eyes.
So he was in hot pursuit of Adam’s girlfriend. So what? First, as he’d pointed out to Harper, he and Adam weren’t best friends. Spending time with people didn’t automatically make you close, it didn’t mean you could depend on them. He’d learned that the hard way, a long time ago. And he wasn’t about to make the same mistake again. He liked Adam, liked hanging out with him—he certainly out-classed the rest of the Haven High gang of losers—but they didn’t owe each other anything.
Second, Beth was just a girl. Sure, Adam would be broken up, for a while—but he’d recover.
And then, there was the third issue. The status of his so-called crime: Was it even possible to steal something that had already been stolen? Because Kane had spotted Beth first. Kane had pursued Beth first. And by the rules of the game—rules that, in the old days, Adam had readily agreed to—Beth had been his for the taking. Until Adam swooped in and took her away. Beth had forgotten. Adam had forgotten.
But Kane remembered.
She had chosen Adam over Kane. She’d fallen for Adam’s good-boy looks, his good-boy charm. She’d brushed Kane away from her like a gnat and given herself to Adam. And ever since then, everything had been different. Adam was different, ignoring every other girl, most of the time ignoring Kane—all he wanted was Beth. To be with her, to talk about her, to hold her. Kane couldn’t stand it. Partly because he hated to see a friend morph into one of those relationship pod p
eople, jettisoning all the interesting parts of his personality. Trying his best to behave—to obey.
But more than that, Kane couldn’t stand the possibility that Beth wasn’t “just a girl,” that she really was something special, something new—and that she belonged to someone else. Kane was not, by nature, a covetous person. Envy was too passive for him. To envy something, after all, you had to be sitting on the sidelines, watching what someone else had. Wanting it, longing for it, and powerless to get it.
Kane didn’t do powerless. He didn’t waste his time wishing he had someone else’s life, someone else’s possessions. He was who he was, he had what he had—and when he discovered something out there in the world that he needed? He took it.
chapter
9
Harper didn’t usually associate with Beth and her little clique during gym class. Of course she had to be nice to Adam’s girlfriend, and pretend they were friends, but that didn’t mean they needed to be bosom buddies. So usually, after suffering through the forty-five minutes of torture better known as phys ed, she stayed on the other side of the locker room, sliding out of her hideous orange and black uniform and back into her real clothes as quickly as possible so that she could get the hell out. (The girls’ locker room, although lacking the overpowering stench of sweat ever-present in the guys’ locker room, was still not the type of place in which you wanted to kick back and relax.) But today was different. Today she had a mission. Kane and Harper had conferred, and agreed: It was time to set Kaia’s plan into motion.