Envy - 2 (7 page)

Kaia didn’t know any of that, of course, but if she had, she wouldn’t have cared.

She did know she wasn’t supposed to go inside. The boldfaced NO STUDENTS sign on the door was a good tip-off. The sharp glare Mrs. Martin shot her as she scuttled out of the lounge was a better one. Teachers-only territory. No trespassing.

Kaia didn’t care about that, either. She pushed through the door into the dark space, and there he was, Jack Powel —adorable, and alone.

At first he didn’t see her. He was sprawled on one of the couches, reading by the dim light of a halogen lamp—the overhead lighting was about as much use as a half-dead flashlight when it came to lighting up the room, much less the page. He’d kicked his legs up on the makeshift coffee table and was poring over a thick hardcover, his face scrunched up in thought. He was completely absorbed, and failed to notice when the door swung open. It was left to Kaia to break his concentration.

“Greetings and salutations, Mr. Powel ,” she said in a low voice.

He looked up with an expression of absentminded bemusement; it disappeared as soon as he paired the voice with her face. He snapped the book shut in anger and quickly stood, backing away from her.

“Did I not make myself clear the last time we spoke, Ms. Sel ers? Get out of here.”

“Don’t trust yourself alone with me?” she taunted him. “Worried about what you might do?”

“I’m not the one who’s worried—thanks to you, I’ve got half the school thinking I want to play Humbert Humbert to your Lolita. But I’m sure you know that already, since it’s exactly what you wanted.”

“Al I ever wanted was you, Mr. Powel ,” she said sweetly. “Didn’t
I
make myself clear?”

“Crystal. Now, did anyone see you come in here?”

“Only Mrs. Martin,” she admitted.

“Wel , that’s just great.” He shook his head and raised his eyes to the ceiling in exasperation. “She’l have half the town ready to lynch me if she figures out we were in here together. You have to get out of here. Now.”

“You’re sounding a little desperate there, Mr. Powel —it’s not very becoming.” That was a lie, actual y. The sharp edge of desperation in his voice made the whole hard-to-get act even sexier.

He paused and gave her a piercing look. It was the same intent gaze he’d given her in their very first encounter, just before explaining that even if she hadn’t been “trouble dressed up in a miniskirt,” he made it a policy not to get involved with students. That had been before she caught him trying to get “involved” with Beth, of course—it turned out the only students he stayed away from were the ones he saw as potential threats. She was too hot to handle, apparently—which was infuriating. And flattering.

“Kaia, you seem like a bright girl,” he final y said. “Bright enough to know that you can make life here rather uncomfortable for me.”

“I’m glad you noticed.”

“So I’l assume you’re bright enough to understand that
I
can make life rather uncomfortable for
you
,” he pointed out. “I could, for one, fail you.”

“I could say it was sexual harassment,” she countered. “Retribution.”

“I could say it was your word against mine.”

“I could say that’s attacking the victim.”

“And I could say the same—so it would seem we’re at an impasse.”

“Why, Mr. Powel ,” she asked flirtatiously, “are you suggesting a truce?”

He slumped back down on the couch and began massaging his temples. “Kaia, I’m not the one who declared a war,” he reminded her. “I’m suggesting you drop this whole thing, drop my class if you can, do whatever it takes for you to walk out this door and out of my life forever.”

“You’d miss me,” she chirped.

“I doubt it.”

“What would you do for fun without me?”

“I suspect I’d find something else,” he said wearily. “Something that didn’t cause blinding headaches and nausea.” Any more of this sweet talk and she was going to get a cavity.

“Okay, I’l go,” she al owed. “For now. But I should point out that when you say we’re at an impasse, you’re forgetting two things.”

“Enlighten me.”

“One.” She ticked it off on one of her fingers. “You’re right that it would be your word against mine, and maybe my word’s not worth too much around here. But
Beth’s
is. And something tel s me she might have some interesting things to say on the subject.”

He stood up again—but suddenly seemed slightly unsteady on his feet. “Is this your ham-handed way of threatening to blackmail me, Kaia?” It sounded tough, but she knew she’d shaken him. Good. Now they both understood that she had the upper hand.

“No—lets cal it a demonstration of goodwil ,” she offered. “Because for the moment, I’m planning to keep my mouth shut. You’re the only person who knows what I saw. And for the moment, I’m wil ing to keep it that way.”

“And why, pray tel , is that?”

For one thing, she’d decided that this was the kind of information that could keep. Why use it now when she could get what she needed out of him first? She’d save this for when it counted. But an honest answer wouldn’t do much to help her cause.

“Wel , that would be point number two,” she told him, ticking off a second finger. “I like you, Jack Powel . I think you’ve got a lot of … possibilities. So I’m going to keep quiet about Beth. I’m going to walk out of here and show you that I can be as discreet as any of the adoring goody-goody students I’m sure you’ve wooed into bed in the past—but I’m not giving up. I have a lot of patience when it comes to getting what I want.”

“And what about what I want?” he asked drily.

“You don’t need patience,” she pointed out. “I’m right here. You just need to come and get me.”

They’d needed somewhere out of the way, somewhere no one they knew would ever be or would ever think to look for them. The school library was an obvious choice. Huddled over a smal table in the back (sandwiched in the stacks between self-help and pet grooming), Harper and Kane quickly got down to business.

“It’s a good start, Grace, but we need to kick it into higher gear. Slow and steady’s not going to win us the race on this one,” Kane whispered.

Harper craned her neck around, once again making sure that no one she knew could overhear them. Her crowd wasn’t much for the musty book zone, it was true—but a certain brainy Barbie clone had been known to stop by.

“I don’t know, Kane—that relationship has a definite expiration date. And with Beth fawning al over you for the next two weeks, maybe …”

“Adam wil have enough space to discover you’re the best thing ever to happen to him?” Kane finished for her.

Harper blushed. That was, in fact, exactly what she’d been thinking. “Wel , if you want to put it that way.”

“Wake up, Harper,” Kane said sharply, snapping his fingers in front of her face. “These two could go on like this indefinitely. They’re both too noble to cut their losses. I know Adam, and he’s going to stay in this to the bitter end, and Beth—”

“Couldn’t stand on her own two feet if you nailed them to the floor and shoved a pole up her—”

“Hey, watch how you talk about my woman.”

“
Your
woman?” She arched an impeccably plucked eyebrow. “Someone’s getting a little ahead of himself.”

“Exactly my point—I don’t like waiting, and I didn’t think you did either. Isn’t that why we’re in this thing?”

“Okay,” she conceded. “So we’ve got the setup, Adam’s already jealous—”

“And soon it wil start to fester—,” Kane added.

“Especial y if we help it along a bit,” Harper concluded.
So
not a problem. If there was one thing she could handle, it was feeding the flames of jealousy—hadn’t she proved that wel enough over the weekend? “But we need something else, something more dramatic, with a little flair.”

“I couldn’t agree more. But what?” Kane asked. They were right back to where they’d started. “That’s the mil ion-dol ar question. And it has to be done right, with finesse—we don’t want this to backfire.”

“Are you thinking of something specific?”

“I’m just trying to ensure that we
both
get what we want,” Kane explained, winking, “since, never let it be said I think only of myself…” Harper raised both eyebrows this time.

“Okay, usual y I do,” he admitted. “But in this case, we’re in it together—one for al , al for one, et cetera.”

“Whatever, I’l believe it when I see it. I’ve known you for too long.”

“Oh, you wound me!” he exclaimed. Mrs. Martin, the ancient and evil-eyed librarian, walked by and gave them a nasty look. The shut-up-or-get-out kind of look. Harper lowered her eyes and tried to muster a chaste and innocent smile. But Mrs. Martin, immune to the act, just scuttled on by.

“I’m supposed to trust you?” Harper asked, lowering her voice to a whisper. “When you’re trying to steal your best friend’s girlfriend?” Al traces of a smirk vanished from Kane’s face, and he glared at her with hooded eyes.

“First of al , Grace, I don’t believe in trust—which is why I don’t believe in best friends. It’s easier that way. And second of al , as for stealing his girlfriend …” Harper leaned forward eagerly. She’d been wondering how Kane could justify his scheming, especial y when he seemed to have no particular motivation for choosing Beth, of al the girls he could have pursued.

“… lets just say—karma’s a bitch.”

“Care to elaborate?” Harper asked.

“No.”

They stared at each other in silence for a moment, each daring the other to speak. Harper broke first.

“Fine—just get back to what you were saying,” Harper urged him. “What kind of backfiring are you afraid of?”

“Wel , we could pin something on Adam, like, say, he slept with someone else—believable enough, I guess,” Kane said, his smirk returning. “Deep down, al guys are pigs.” Harper opened her mouth—then closed it again. She couldn’t betray Adam’s confidence. At least not until she heard al of what Kane had to say.

“That could work,” she mused.

He shook his head slowly but surely. “Not so much—think about it. Beth breaks up with Adam in a fit of anger, and Adam spends the rest of his life trying to win her back. And I don’t think either of us wants to deal with that.”

“Agreed,” Harper said, her heart sinking. He was right—and she had nothing. Nothing that wouldn’t turn Harper and Adam’s potential relationship into col ateral damage. “In fact, I think Adam needs to be the one to break it off,” she concluded in spite of herself. “He feels betrayed, she feels unjustly wronged, they both want nothing to do with each other and go running into our arms.”

“Sounds like the perfect plan. Except …” Kane sighed in exasperation. “We stil need to figure out how to get from point A to point B.”

“We’l figure it out,” she comforted him. “In the meantime we continue to drive Adam out of his mind with jealousy?”

“You got it. And, hey, never underestimate the power of the Kane Geary charisma. For al I know, a couple more of these study ‘dates’ and she’l be begging
me
to hit the bedroom.”

Harper bal ed up a piece of paper and tossed it at his big, fat head. “Leaving Adam ready and waiting for some sympathetic TLC from his beautiful next door neighbor?” she suggested sarcastical y. “Unlikely.”

“Hey, you never know—it could happen.”

It’s not like Miranda had no one to eat lunch with. No, she reassured herself, she had plenty of friends. Just because Harper had randomly decided to skip out on lunch didn’t mean Miranda was adrift on some sea of loserdom. There were plenty of people she
could
sit with, plenty who would covet her presence at their table if only because the reflected beams of Harper’s glory made Miranda glow with the light of borrowed popularity. But the prospect of pushing “food” around on her tray while listening to the stupid simpering of these so-cal ed friends—without Harper across the table to exchange timely eye rol s with—was just too much for her to handle this afternoon. So instead, Miranda opted for a snack machine lunch (granola bar and mini canister of Pringles) at the newspaper office, which had a door that locked and a couch that creaked noisily but had yet to col apse.

But first, a pit stop at the girls’ bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror, touching up her makeup—and making a mental note that a makeup makeover would definitely have to be the next stop on her road to self-improvement. The peach frosted lip gloss and smoky gray eye shadow she’d picked out in tenth grade just wouldn’t do. Her mother, though usual y having more than enough to say on the subject of Miranda’s appearance—and how to improve it—knew nothing about makeup herself. She’d been able to contribute very little to Miranda’s education on the subject beyond such helpful pointers as “That blush makes you look like a whore.” The bathroom was surprisingly uncrowded for this time of day. A couple stoners lurked in the back corner, from the sound of it competing over who had more Phish bootlegs. A cluster of super-skinny bottle blondes—Miranda didn’t recognize them, so figured they must be freshmen—hogged most of the mirror area, reapplying their hairspray and shimmery lipstick. From the short skirts to the perfect manicures to the cocky tilt of their heads Miranda could tel they were jockeying for a place in the line of succession, ready to fil the power vacuum once Harper had graduated.
Cosmo
clones, Miranda thought disdainful y. They could look the part al they wanted, but they’d never have that spark, that something special Harper had that made people want to fol ow her to the ends of the earth (or at least to the end of good judgment). Harper was a leader. These girls—it was obvious—were sheep.

And yet …

And yet, she thought, looking from one perfectly sculpted and outfitted body to the next, wasn’t this exactly the look she was craving?

Long, silky smooth hair that could bounce and blow in the wind—Miranda’s hair was brittle, thin, and impossibly flat. Flawless complexions—Miranda had zits and freckles.

Long, slim, tanned legs—Miranda’s thunder thighs were albino pale.

The girls bustled out of the bathroom, chattering about who had hooked up that weekend and who was feeling fat. Big surprise—unanimous responses to both.