Sloth

She started the ignition, and he flicked a lock of her hair over her shoulder, forcing her to turn toward him again and face his crooked, knowing smirk. “Have it your way, Stevens. But you don’t know what you’re missing.”

Let’s see, she thought wryly, that would be: pain, lust, heartbreak, torture.

Although, come to think of it, her personal inventory already had plenty of those items in stock. So she wasn’t missing a thing.

It didn’t seem real and it didn’t make sense, but it was happening. Harper pressed herself against the wall. She wanted to look away-she wanted to run away-but her feet were stuck to the floor. She couldn’t move, and when she tried to speak, nothing came out.

There was no light in the room, but somehow, she could see everything clearly.

Adam on his back, in his boxers. Kaia straddling him, her head tossed back, her black hair splashed out behind her.

Stop! Harper shouted, and even though her lips didn’t move, she could hear the word echoing through the room. Kaia and Adam didn’t notice.

“Are you ready?” Kaia whispered. She kissed his chin. She kissed his neck. She licked his nipples, one by one. Adam moaned.

So did Harper.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” Adam said, unlatching her lacy black bra and letting it drop to the floor.

Kaia made a noise that sounded like a purr. “I know.” She slipped her fingers under Adam’s head and jerked it toward hers, giving him a long, sloppy kiss. Then she turned and looked directly at Harper. “He doesn’t want you,” she sneered, giving Harper a cruel smile. “He wants me. They all do.”

Shut up! Harper screamed silently. It felt like her throat was choked with cotton. She tried to close her eyes, but they wouldn’t shut.

Kaia shimmied down Adam’s body until she reached the waistband of his boxers. She slipped her thumb between his skin and the cotton and began, ever so slowly, to pull them off.

“I hate you!” Harper shrieked, finding her voice. The words exploded from her lungs and filled the room, which seemed to shake with the noise. Adam half sat up and looked across the room at Harper, shaking his head sadly. Kaia touched his chin to stop the motion, then kissed him again. “I hate you!” Harper shouted again, feeling the power of her wrath course through her body.

And then she woke up.

Drenched, shivering beneath her covers, tears streaking her face.

Harper turned over on her stomach, burrowing her face into the pillow. “I’m sorry!” she gasped, fighting for breath. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” She murmured the words over and over again until her breathing slowed and she stopped shaking. But that night, she didn’t fall back asleep.

Chapter 9

There were no invitations. Word traveled, and everyone just knew where to show up, and when. Senior Spirit Week was for the teachers and the administration so they could feel good about offering their students some good, clean fun. But everyone knew that senior spring only officially began at midnight, in the midst of debauchery and revels. There was a spot out in the desert, a shallow wash of scrub-brush surrounded by clumps of Joshua trees on one side and a stretch of low, rocky ridges on the other. It was tradition. The cops allowed it. The administration ignored it. Parents pretended it didn’t exist-although most of them had been through it themselves, twenty years before. It signified the beginning of the end, a night of wild release that, if all went well, would be whispered about for years. Graduation was a hot, tedious hassle; prom was a chance for girls to spend too much on evening dresses and guys to get that last precollege shot at losing their virginity. This was a rite of passage.

Beth had decided not to go.

Then she changed her mind.

After an hour of flip-flopping, she was standing in front of her mirror wearing standard-issue black pants, a shim-mery blue, scoop-neck top that matched her eyes, and a sparkly bracelet she’d gotten for her birthday last year but never taken out of the box. She swept her hair up into a high, lose ponytail, wishing the long, blond strands would wave or curl or do anything other than fall limply down to her shoulders. She dabbed on some glittery gray eye shadow and a layer of clear gloss.

And she still wasn’t sure she was going to leave the house.

Her original plan had been to never leave the house again, but that seemed less than feasible.

She’d come up with a variety of rationales:

If she didn’t start acting normal, people would suspect something was going on, and she couldn’t afford that.

She would likely have a terrible time, so she didn’t need to feel guilty.

If she wasn’t going to turn herself in-because, she reminded herself, she hadn’t intentionally hurt anyone, and not because she was a pathetic coward-she had to start living her life again at some point.

None of them were nearly as persuasive as the deciding factor: Reed’s band was playing the party. And, much as she hated to admit it, she wanted to see him again.

There was nothing going on, she assured herself. She and Reed were a nonissue-even if it hadn’t been for… what had happened with Kaia. Reed was the opposite of her type, and last time she’d played that game, she’d lost big. If she was going to get involved with anyone again, it would be someone sweet and quiet, who was kind to children and animals and cared about getting into college, going to class, and doing the right thing.

Except: Why would someone like that ever want to be involved with her? She wasn’t Beth Manning, golden girl, anymore. She’d stopped going to class, probably wouldn’t get into college-and had proven once and for all that, unless it was painless, she wouldn’t do the right thing.

If she was being honest with herself, she knew she couldn’t get involved with anybody. Lonely as she was, she couldn’t afford something open, honest, or real. She couldn’t invite someone into her life and trust him with her secrets and her fears.

Still, she slipped on a jacket and wrapped a pink scarf around her neck, waved good-bye to her parents, and walked out the door. She’d never heard Reed play before, and she was just curious, she assured herself. Miserable, bored, scared, and curious. That’s all there was to it.

Miranda drained her plastic cup and stuck it under the keg, pumping until a frothy flow spurted out. It tasted like shit, but she forced it down, anyway. The world tipped a bit to the left, then righted itself before she could fall over, but she still felt like things would start spinning if she turned her head too fast.

Perfect.

There he was, less than ten feet away, standing at the fringes of a group of jocks trying to set fire to a cactus. He looked disgusted-and hot. Miranda stumbled toward him, sneaking up behind him and slapping her hands over his eyes.

“Geary,” she whispered, holding back a giggle. “Guess who?”

He spun around, and she hopped up and gave him an impulsive kiss on the cheek. “I’m drunk,” she announced giddily.

He looked her up and down, then patted her on the head. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. I got that.”

She felt so free. “You like?” she asked, twirling around to show off her outfit, a dark green corset and very un- Miranda-like skin-tight pants.

“Nice.” He ran his hand down the laced up sides of her shirt. “ Very nice.”

Before the party, she’d decided: It doesn’t count if you’re drunk. Everyone knew this party was about doing things you shouldn’t-and so why should she deny herself the one thing she knew she absolutely, under no circumstances, if she wanted to keep her sanity or her dignity, shouldn’t do? She just needed to work up a little safety buzz-get just drunk enough to serve as an excuse for anything that might happen. Anything she hoped would happen. She’d thought it all out, and it had made perfect sense.

Four beers later, she was done thinking. “You look good,” she said, stepping toward him and nearly falling as