Envy

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 grace.

“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 flushed 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.