Wrath

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, grabbing her arm roughly to pull her back down. She shrugged him off. “You think you can just walk away?”

“Pretty much.”

“That’s not how it works, Kaia. You want to be very careful about what you choose to do right now.”

It didn’t sound like a desperate plea to win her back.

It sounded like a threat.

As if she’d be scared of some washed-up British bachelor who’d fallen so far, he was hiding out in the middle of nowhere teaching French to future farmers of America. Even if he was the one playing with spray paint in the middle of the night, or jerking off courtesy of his digital camera, it was a coward’s revenge, and cowards didn’t scare her.

“Bye, bye, Jack,” she chirped, and headed for the door.

“This is a mistake, Kaia.” His low, angry voice followed her out. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that.”

Doubtful.

Harper had been looking forward to a nice, quiet evening at home in front of the TV, hoping to lose herself in some cheesy MTV reality show-other people’s misery was so much more fun than her own. But it wasn’t to be…

“Mind if I join you, hon?” Her mother didn’t wait for an answer before squeezing next to Harper on the threadbare couch. Parents could be so inconvenient sometimes.

Harper nodded and tried to hold back a sigh. “Whatever.” She upped the volume on the TV in anticipation of her mother’s inevitable commentary.

“Is that the girl from that show on HBO?” her mother asked, peering at the screen. “Oh, wait, no, she has blond hair. But is she-”

“Mom! She’s a real person, okay?” Harper explained, more harshly than she’d intended. “It’s a reality show. They’re all real. No actors. Get it?”

“No need to yell, dear, I’m sitting right here,” Amanda Grace said dryly, raising her eyebrows. For a few minutes they watched together in blessed silence, then, “Wait, I thought she was dating that other boy? The one with the Mohawk?”

“She was, Mother.”

“But then what’s she doing with this one? And are they really going to-oh! Can they show that on TV? What are you watching?”

“It’s just a show, Mom.” Harper slouched down on the couch, wishing she’d chosen a different channel. Was there anything more embarrassing than watching on-screen sex with your mother?

“Harper, I hope that if you… well, if there’s anything you want to talk about, you know, in that department-”

Correction: Talking about your own sex life-or, at the moment, lack thereof-with your mother was definitely more embarrassing.

“Mom, there’s nothing to discuss. Trust me.”

“I do, honey, it’s just-” Fortunately, the scene shifted, and her mother gasped. “Is that vodka? And those two girls, what are they-? Is this really what you teenagers are doing with yourselves these days?”

“It’s TV, Mom,” Harper pointed out, feeling simultaneous twinges of pride and guilt that she’d been able to keep her mother so successfully in the dark.

“Reality TV.”

Harper shook her head. “There’s nothing real about any of this crap,” she argued. “It’s all edited to make it more exciting, and you know they’re just acting up for the camera. No one’s like that in real life.”

Harper flipped the channel over to one of those ‘All Women, All the Time’ stations, hoping her mother would get absorbed by some soapy sob story and forget all about her. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“I haven’t seen Adam around here lately,” her mother suddenly said, still staring at the TV. “Or Miranda.”

Maybe she wasn’t so oblivious after all.

“They’re around,” Harper said softly. She wasn’t about to unload on her mother-last time she’d actually confided in one of her parents, she’d been barely out of diapers-but the temptation was there. There was something to be said for unconditional parental adoration, especially when everyone else you care about has decided you’re worthless and unlovable.

“What’s going on with you these days?” her mother asked, finally turning to her and smoothing down Harper’s unruly hair, just like she used to do when Harper was younger. “You seem… sad.”

Harper shrugged. “You know teenagers, Mom. We’re a moody bunch.”

“I know you,” her mother countered. “I know when something’s wrong. It might help to talk about it.”

“No it won’t.” She knew she sounded sullen and sulky, like a little kid, but she couldn’t help herself.

“Honey, I know high school can be tough-I wasn’t born middle-aged, you know. But you’ve got to remember, it’s not everything. The things that seem so horrible now, they’ll pass.You’ll get through it. Everyone does.”

“Can we just not talk about this? Please?” This was why Harper never told her parents anything. They didn’t get it. Harper knew her mother would probably think she just had some kind of teenybopper crush on Adam, that she and Miranda were just having a little spat that could be solved with ice cream and a smile. Having been a teenager once, a million years ago, didn’t qualify her mother to understand what she was going through-and it obviously didn’t give her any idea what Harper’s life was like, how hard it could be.

“Of course,” her mother said, lifting the remote and flipping through the channels until she stumbled upon a showing of The Princess Bride. “How about we just watch the movie?”

Loving this movie was one of the few things they still had in common. They’d watched it together about twenty times, and had memorized almost every line. Harpers mother switched off the light and draped a heavy blanket over both of them. Harper smiled, letting herself get carried away by the familiar jokes and the sappy but irresistible love story. If only life were as clear-cut as it was in the movies-if only you could slay a few Rodents of Unusual Size, battle your way across the Fire Swamp, slay an evil count, and get what you most desired. It would be an improvement over the real world, where danger snuck up on you and courage was so much more difficult to find.

“Harper?”

“Mmm?”

“You know your father and I love you, right?”

Of course she knew it. But it never hurt to hear it again. She focused intently on the screen and blinked back tears as Princess Buttercup threw herself into the arms of her one true love.

“Yeah,” she murmured softly, leaning her head against her mother’s shoulder. “You too.”

Chapter 7

The administration had worked overtime to get everything ready for the governors visit.The press-or, at least, a photographer from the Grace Herald and a reporter from the Ludlow Times-was due first thing that morning to take pictures of the school, which had been sufficiently buffed and shined for the occasion. A selection of high-achieving students had been carefully selected to speak with the reporter, and the crown jewel of Principal Lowenstein’s presentation to the media was about to be unveiled.

Hanging over the front doors of the school, hidden by a white drop cloth, was the principals pet project: a giant billboard, labored over by the art teacher and his most talented students. It would soon welcome the governor to town-but now, in an almost as important moment, it would serve as the face Haven High would show to the world.

Principal Lowenstein allowed herself a moment to dream-thanks to the governor s star power, the local story would be picked up by the state press, perhaps even nationally syndicated. The paparazzi were everywhere, and you never knew what might excite the tabloids. She suppressed a smile, imagining her face staring back at her from