Pride

neighbor, just waiting for her time to come. Unlike Beth, Harper would never let him down, never mistreat him, never lie to him-unless, she conceded, it was for his own good.

So what if she was spending her night in a dark theater watching an endless Jackie Chan marathon rather than preening in front of the adoring masses, Haven High girls hoping that her polite acknowledgment might secure them a berth on the A-list, brawny bouncers and bartenders attracted by her billowing auburn hair like moths to a flame and hoping against hope she would ditch her date and fall into their open arms? (It had been known to happen.) So what if she had to watch what she said 24/7, to make sure none of the nasty thoughts constantly popping into her brain slipped out in Adam’s presence, lest he begin to think she really was as much of a power-hungry bitch as the rest of their school believed her to be? And so what if, in order to get what she wanted, she’d had to screw over the people she loved the most, and sacrifice whatever shreds of integrity she may have had left after four years in the Haven High trenches?

None of that mattered now. Not now that she had Adam. Strong, handsome, kind, wonderful, perfect Adam.

She’d waited so long-but it had been worth it. All of it.

“What are you thinking?” he whispered, slinging an arm around her and drawing her close. She nestled against him, laying her head against his shoulder. He was always asking her that, and she was still delighted by the novelty of being with a guy who actually cared what she was thinking, who was focused on getting into her mind rather than into her bed.

“I’m thinking this-you, us-it’s all too good to be true,” she admitted. And though it was intended as a lie, the words had the ring of truth.

“It’s true,” he assured her, and kissed her gently on the forehead.

I’ll reform, Harper decided, leaning against his warm body. No more party girl. No more shallow, superficial bitch. She would be the girl Adam wanted her to be-the girl he seemed to think, deep down, she really was. And who knew? He could even be right.

After all, anything’s possible.

Miranda was bored.

She’d tried to tell herself that having all this free time on her hands was a good thing. She could use some space-a nice, long stretch of empty hours every now and then would give her a chance to do all the things that she wanted to do. She wouldn’t have to accommodate anyone else-not her mother, not her little sister, not Harper, none of the people who usually saw fit to dictate the what, when, and how of Miranda’s life. She’d just do her own thing. She was a strong, smart, independent woman, right? (This month’s Cosmo quiz had confirmed it.) Enjoying your alone time was right there in the job description, and she’d been certain she was up to the task.

But it was time to face facts. These last few weeks she’d read plenty of good books, watched all her favorite movies, taken so many “relaxing” bubble baths, she was starting to grow gills-and enough was enough. She was bored. Bored out of her mind.

It’s not like she needed to spend every minute of every day with Harper. Miranda was a best friend, not some parasite who needed a constant infusion of Harper’s energy to thrive. They needed each other, equally-or so Miranda had thought. Apparently, she’d thought wrong. Because here she was, alone. Again. On yet another Saturday night, playing Internet solitaire while Harper lived it up with the love of her life. So much for late-night rendezvous at the bar of choice, or Sunday brunches where they dissected every moment of the lame night before. No more of the late-night distress calls Miranda had complained about so much-never admitting, even to herself, how good it felt to be needed.

Not that Miranda begrudged her best friend her happiness-not much, at least.

“You wouldn’t believe it, Rand,” Harper told her. Constantly. “Its better than I ever could have imagined. Having him there for me? Always? It’s amazing. It’s so perfect. You’ll see.”

Sure, Miranda would see for herself. Someday. Maybe. Until then, she was growing intimately familiar with the whole outside-looking-in thing, turning herself into an impeccable third wheel in under a week. She’d always been a quick study.

Harper refused to elaborate on how it had happened, how one day Beth and Adam were going strong, and the next, Harper was the one in his arms, Beth kicked to the curb.

Not that vapid blondes like Beth ever stayed single for long-thirty seconds later, there she was, Kane Geary’s latest conquest, floating along by his side as if she’d been there all along.

No, it was girls like Miranda who stayed single-for what seemed like forever. In all the years she’d longed for Kane, had he given her a second look? Had he ever once considered that her wit and charm might be worth ten of his bimbos, despite her stringy hair and lumpy physique?

No-guys like Kane, they never did. Probably, never would.

Her computer dinged with the sound of a new e-mail, and she opened it warily, expecting spam. More offers to increase her girth or introduce her to some “Hot XXX Girls NUDE NUDE NUDE.” Who else would be sitting in front of their computer on a Saturday night but the people trying to sell that shit-and the people who actually bought it?

LOOKING FOR LOVE IN ALL THE WRONG PLACES? read the banner headline.

Great. Even Cyberspace knew how pathetic she was.

Join MatchMadelnHaven.com, Grace’s first teen Internet dating site! Find your true love with the click of a mouse! After all-you’ve been lonely too long…

You can say that again, Miranda thought bitterly. And, for just a moment, she considered it. No one would ever have to know, she reasoned, and maybe, just maybe, this was her ticket to coupledom. Maybe there was someone out there, just like her, waiting for the right girl to come along. Could she really complain about being alone if she hadn’t done everything in her power, everything, to fix the problem?

And then she caught herself, realizing the depths to which she was about to sink.

What are you thinking? she asked herself sternly, shaking her head in disgust. You’re not that desperate.

At least, not yet.

They ate in silence.

The dining room table was large and long, too big for just the two of them. Kaia sat at one end, her father at the other, and for most of the meal, the quiet was punctuated only by the distant chattering of the maids in the kitchen and the occasional clatter of a silver Tiffany fork against the edge of Kaia’s Rafaelesco plate. She saw her father wince at each clang and scrape-it didn’t inspire her to be more careful.

Kaia would rather have been in the cavernous living room, eating take-out in front of the flat-screen, liquid- crystal TV, as usual. When you got down to it, she would have preferred to be back home in New York, eating in a chic TriBeCa bistro. Even holing up in her New York bedroom with a three-day-old bag of Doritos would have been preferable to having even one more meal in Grace, CA. Good food didn’t change the fact that she was in exile, a prisoner, beholden to her parents’ stupid whims. She didn’t want to be stuck in the desert, stuck in his pretentious, Architectural Digest wannabe house, and she certainly didn’t want to be stuck at the hand-crafted mahogany dining room table facing the man who was keeping her there. And despite her perpetual inability to read him, she was pretty sure he didn’t want to be there, either. Yet there they sat, one night a month.

And the night stretched on, interminable.

“So, how’s school?” her father finally asked.

“I wouldn’t know,” she answered lightly.

“Kaia…”

The warning note in his voice was subtle, but clear. He talks to me like I’m one of his employees, she thought, not for the first time.

“School’s fine. Delightful,” she offered. “I go every day. It’s a truly wonderful experience. I’m simply learning ever so much. Is that what you want to hear?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I just want to hear the truth, Kaia. And I want to hear that you’re happy.”

“Sorry to disappoint, Father, but those are two different things-and, at the moment,