Wrath

the supermarket checkout aisle. She would be seen all over the country for what she truly was: a capable, zealous administrator destined for greater things.

Specifically, destined to get the hell out of this dinky town and take on a real school, a place where the students cared about more than football scores and truck engines, and the teachers actually understood the material they were supposed to teach.

Proud grin firmly planted on her face, Lowenstein waved to the reporters, posed for their flashes, and pulled down the drop cloth.

And because she was so intent on staring into the camera, she was the last to see it.

The art department had gone above and beyond, pulling a campaign photo of the governor riding a horse, and blowing it up so he appeared to be galloping toward the doors of Haven High. In large type, the caption beneath the image read-or was supposed to read-HAVEN HIGH WELCOMES OUR GOVERNOR-THE BEST INTHE WEST!

It was a masterpiece of administrative banality-or would have been, had someone not snuck beneath the drop cloth, pulled out their spray paint, and made a few… minor changes.

The governor was now truly riding the horse-as one imagined he might ride his wife. The new caption: HAVEN HIGH WELCOMES OUR GOVERNOR-THE BEST LOVER IN THE WEST!

It was juvenile, lame, inappropriate, grotesque and, all in all, a reasonably accurate representation of everything Haven High stood for.

The reporter scribbled madly, and Principal Lowenstein smiled uselessly for the camera, no longer looking forward to her front-page coverage. Welcome to Haven High, she thought dejectedly, where dreams come to die.

Everyone in school that day was consumed with the question of who had pulled the prank. Everyone except Beth, who had only one thought in her mind: Who would the winner be?

That morning in homeroom, she, Harper, and the other contenders had traipsed down to the principal’s office and read their speeches into the PA system. Beth assumed no one was listening-the mornings gossip was too fresh for anyone to take a break and actually pay attention-but she still felt a tiny thrill having her voice piped throughout the school, knowing that soon people would be voting on whether or not they’d been suitably impressed.

Beth wasn’t thrilled with her speech, but even in her nervousness she could tell it was better than anything anyone else had to offer. Harper’s, especially-from the grammatical errors to the logical inconsistencies, to the blithe suggestion that school be made several hours shorter and students be allowed to choose their own subjects of study-Beth was sure she couldn’t lose.

Still, she didn’t like waiting.

The announcement came in last period, toward the end of French class. Normally, Beth detested sitting through those forty-seven minutes, feeling Jack Powell’s eyes upon her-it forced her to remember the day he’d kissed her in the deserted newsroom, a moment she’d been struggling for months to forget. She could, if she allowed herself, still feel his hands gripping her body, and the flicker of fear that she wouldn’t be able to push him away. It made her feel dirty, and somehow trapped, as if a part of her were still stuck there with him, in that cramped, dark room.

But today, she’d been too distracted by worries about the speech to pay much attention to Powell, and that, at least, was a blessing.

“Attention, students.” As the PA speaker crackled to life, Beth looked up from her desk. This was it, she knew it. Just as she knew without looking that, three rows back, Harper was watching her.

She looked, anyway.

“Students, I’m pleased to announce the results of our speech contest,” the principal announced, sounding distinctly happier than she had that morning. “All the submissions were quite impressive, but after tallying the votes, we have a clear-cut winner.”

Beth held her breath. Harper continued to stare.

“The student selected should report to me after school, in order to discuss the arrangements for the speech.”

Beth tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and tried to look calm, as if none of this mattered.

“And the student selected for this great honor is… Harper Grace.” Beth felt all the breath leak out of her in a loud sigh. She felt like a flat tire, empty and ready to crumple. Behind her, she knew, Harper was still watching. Only now, she’d be smiling.

“I hope you’ll all join me in congratulating Ms. Grace on her accomplishment. I know she will represent the school with honor and-if you’ll pardon the pun-grace.”

No one laughed. And no one applauded, or whistled, or did anything to make it appear they thought this was a big deal. Which, Beth supposed, it wasn’t-except to her.

If she’d only turned in the other speech, the good speech, this wouldn’t have happened. If she hadn’t cared so much about following the rules, she wouldn’t have lost. She was sure of it.

Harper, after all, never followed the rules-and she always won.

Harper caught up with her after class. “Why so glum?” she asked brightly. Beth tried to walk faster, but Harper picked up speed as well, refusing to fall behind. “Oh, don’t be a sore loser,” Harper chided, her voice saccharine sweet. “Your speech was good… or at least better than mine.”

“I know,” Beth said quietly, bitterly. When would Harper finally leave her alone?

“But it didn’t matter, of course.” Harper shook her head sorrowfully.

“And why’s that?” Beth half expected her to admit she’d rigged the contest. After all, why leave things to chance? Only losers like Beth would be that stupid, right?

“It wouldn’t matter if you’d written the Gettysburg address,” Harper explained-and Beth would think her voice almost kind, if she didn’t know better, if she hadn’t seen the look in Harper’s eye. “You think anyone actually cared what those speeches said? You think anyone but you was listening? It was a popularity contest. Everything in high school is a popularity contest.” And how could you get this far before figuring that out? her look said. I thought you were supposed to be the smart one. “That’s why I’ll always win. People love me. You can’t beat that.”

“Not everyone loves you,” Beth pointed out, amazed that, for once, she wasn’t frozen and brought to tears by her anger. “Not Adam.”

Harper didn’t even flinch. She just smiled indulgently, as if watching a child try fruitlessly to contact the outside world on a plastic telephone.

Certain she could crack the facade, Beth pushed ahead. “None of these people have figured out who you really are. But Adam gets it-now.”

“What do you know about it?” Harper asked in a perfectly measured voice.

“I know that whatever you try to take from me, you’ll never get what you really want,” Beth snapped. “He won’t stop following me around-but he’s done with you, forever.”

“Nothings forever.”

“Nothing’s more pathetic than watching someone chase after a guy who obviously wants nothing to do with her.”

Harper shook her head. “Better watch out-this bitch thing doesn’t suit you. And it can’t possibly have a happy ending.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Just a piece of friendly advice,” Harper said, offering a cool smile, “from one bitch to another.”

She walked away, leaving Beth alone in the middle of the hallway, surrounded by the surging crowd of students all with better places to be. She’d finally found the nerve to stand up for herself-and Harper had barely noticed. Maybe she didn’t really care about Adam, Beth realized, or about anyone but herself. Maybe that’s the kind of person you had to be to wreck other people’s lives.

Yet again, Harper had stolen something from her-and obviously she’d only done it to make Beth more miserable than ever. It made her even more desperate to strike back. But how could you hurt someone who didn’t have the capacity to feel pain?

She’s wrong, Harper repeated silently, over and over again.

Beth didn’t know anything about Harper, and she didn’t know Adam as well as she’d thought, and that should be enough to make her words powerless. Words can never hurt me, she sang to herself, as if this were a Very Special Episode of Sesame Street: “B is for Bitch.”

Beth was just lashing out, feebly trying to make herself feel better-and it was only an accident that she’d struck