Envy

VH1’s Lamest Slang of the ’90s?”

“Well, your outfit does say ‘retro gone wrong,’” Kaia pointed out, “but I guess you’re not out of time, just out of taste. I can live with that.”

“I’m supposed to take fashion tips from someone who makes Paris Hilton look classy?” Harper scoffed.

Kane, whose eyes had been bouncing back and forth between the two as if he were following a heated Ping- Pong match, began to softly applaud. “Bring it on, ladies. When do we take out the mud wrestling pit?”

“Shut up, Kane,” they snapped in unison.

He chuckled softly. “Okay, okay, I know when I’m not wanted.” He checked his watch and stood up, collecting his books. “Besides,” he gave Harper a meaningful look, “I’ve got to go meet someone. We’re setting up a study ‘date’ for later. See ya.”

Harper shot him a vicious, how-dare-you-leave-me-here-alone-with-her look, but he just grinned and disappeared.

“Such a studious guy all of a sudden,” Kaia commented.

“Yeah, well, you know Kane, needs to win at all costs,” Harper said uncomfortably. “Even if it means some hard work.”

“It’s going to be pretty damn hard to win at the rate you two are going,” Kaia pointed out.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kaia laughed to herself. It would have been cute if it weren’t so pathetic, this little show of ignorance and innocence. Harper was going to have to work on the poker face a bit if this whole thing was going to work.

“I think you know,” Kaia said simply.

Harper sighed. “Kaia, it’s a little early in the week for mind games, don’t you think?”

“Look I didn’t come here to fight, or play games,” Kaia promised her, wishing they could just cut through the bullshit and skip to the part where they got something done. But, as she well knew, that’s not how these things worked. And the bullshit was, in the end, half the fun. “At least, not with you.”

“Then what?” Harper asked wearily.

“I know what you’re up to,” Kaia said, relishing the involuntary shudder that ran through Harper’s body. “And I want to help.”

“You know what we’re up to? Are you talking in code now? What is this, a James Bond movie? What would we be ‘up to’?”

“Do you really want me to spell it out for you? Adam, Beth, Operation Screw Over Your Supposed Best Friend- or, in your case, just screw him?”

Harper’s face turned pale. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she claimed in a strangled voice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. You’re totally innocent, you’re appalled I would even suggest it. Whatever.” Kaia checked her watch. This was getting old. “Here’s my point. I want to help-you two are playing out of your league, and I think you need some coaching from a pro. That’s me.”

“Just out of curiosity,” and it was clear that Harper had plenty, “let’s say Kane and I did have some unholy alliance-why would you want to help? And why would we trust you?”

“I’m helping because I’m bored, and because I hate to see a good opportunity go to waste. As for why you should trust me?” Kaia paused. It was a good question. One that deserved a reasonably honest answer. “You shouldn’t. But you’re going to anyway because you’ve got almost everything you need-will, motive, lack of scruples-but you’re missing one key thing, and that’s what I can supply.”

“And what’s that?” Harper asked skeptically.

“A plan.”

Chapter 5

It was Harper’s policy never to have to depend on someone. Especially not because she was desperate.

She was Harper Grace.

She didn’t do desperate.

At least, not usually. Under normal circumstances she plowed through the world and everyone else got out of the way. Unless you were slow. Then you just got run over. She certainly didn’t need anyone’s help to do it. Of course, under normal circumstances she didn’t usually betray one of her best friends for the purposes of seducing the other, but these circumstances were anything but normal, and with the fate of her love life hanging in the balance, speed was of the essence. Which meant that Harper, lacking scruples and strategy in equal amount, was desperate.

And desperate times called for desperate measures… right?

So when Kaia stood up from the cramped library table with an ultimatum: “Meet me after school and listen to what I have to say, or forget the whole thing,” Harper had nodded. Finally, and fatefully, she had decided to give Kaia a chance.

But she wasn’t about to do it anywhere near the school, where someone could see them together. Kaia’s Eurotrash wardrobe, frozen beauty, and outlandish public liplock with Haven High’s most eligible bachelor had won her a fair amount of notoriety, but it wasn’t the kind that translated into social acceptance. She had a few followers, of course, but she was too high and mighty to inspire much loyalty, and most of the initial curiosity seekers had drifted away as Harper slowly but thoroughly put out word that the new girl was not to be touched. Someone like Kaia could have easily toppled Harper’s carefully constructed high school hierarchy-so Harper did what she had to do to neutralize the threat.

When Harper spoke, people listened. And if they knew what was good for them, they obeyed.

She wasn’t about to waste all that hard work by meeting with Kaia in a public place and letting the world think they were suddenly bosom buddies. Harper saw her friendship as a powerful gift, and Christmas for Kaia wasn’t coming anytime soon.

So she needed a place where no one-no one-would recognize her, where no one she knew would ever deign to set foot. Hence: the Cactus Cantina. A greasy Tex-Mex bar with Cheez Whiz nachos and double-shot margaritas, the Cactus was good for inducing a heart attack or drinking yourself into oblivion, but little else.

Harper was already seated (albeit gingerly-she had no interest in letting any part of her body touch the mysterious sticky patches that dotted the booth) when Kaia arrived. So she got a good look at the cover girl’s face when she walked in the door. It wasn’t pretty. Or, rather-this being Kaia-it was spectacularly pretty. But it was prettiness scrunched up into a grimace of horror and reticence, her whole body telegraphing a single message: Dear God, don’t make me go in there. Please.

She stood in the door for a moment, half in, half out, and a shaft of light sliced into the darkness, sending up a groan of discomfort from the bowels of the bar.

“Yer in or yer out, senorita,” the bartender with the fake Zapata mustache called to Kaia. She flinched at the scraping sound of his voice. “Make up your mind, por favor”

Harper waited and watched. It was the first test of Kaia’s commitment to the cause-and, to her credit, she passed.

“Was this really necessary?” she asked Harper, sitting down across from her.

“What?” Harper tried her best to look comfortable, though not too comfortable, as if this world were foreign but unintimidating-and especially as if she weren’t planning to take a shower the moment she got out of there to wash the stench out of her hair. The goal had been to throw Kaia off balance, to make sure she was out of her element-a plan which, by all appearances, had worked like a charm. Harper would just have to deal, and keep her own squirming and scowling to a minimum.

“This place” Kaia said, waving her arms in elaboration, as if to encompass the cardboard lizards and cacti papering the walls, the tinny salsa soundtrack, and the seedy denizens all in one sweep. “Or is this just your thing?”

Harper shrugged, affecting unconcern. “You’re the one who thinks Kane and I have this dirty little plan,” she pointed out. “I would think you’d understand the need to be a little discreet.”