Wrath

He’ll be sorry. They’ll all be sorry.

Harper awoke with a gasp, the words still pounding in her ears. They’ll all be sorry. For a moment, caught in that foggy zone between sleep and waking, the sentence had no meaning.

And then it all came flooding back.

Beth.

Miranda.

Even Adam, who had turned his back on her.

She only remembered flashes of what she’d dreamed-the screams, the silence at the end, and the feeling of satisfaction.

A cold sweat dotted her brow. As the disjointed memory of the nightmare crowded back into her mind, Harper lay still, flat on her back, staring at the cracks in the ceiling and trying not to be afraid.

She could still hear the screams.

It felt like a beast lay deep inside of her, waiting for her to relax control, so it could awake and unleash its wrath.

Harper liked to believe she was in charge. Everything she did, she did by choice.

But there were Miranda, and Adam-the two people who knew her best-and they didn’t think she had a choice.

You can’t help it. You are who you are.

They thought she couldn’t help but spread her poison.

And remembering the rage that had coursed through her as she slept, Harper couldn’t help but wonder: Maybe they were right.

I was right. I knew I was right.

Miranda stuffed the last Hershey’s Kiss into her mouth and checked the clock. Six thirty A.M. She’d now officially been up all night-and had the empty bags of candy to prove it.

She’d actually gone to bed early, craving those moments before sleep when she was free to think about anything she wanted, and she could let her mind wander to Kane. In the dark she could indulge her wildest fantasies about what he might say, and how they might be together.

But her mind kept veering away from happy thoughts. It took her back toward Harper-and all her lies.

He says he just likes you as a friend.

Forget him, he’s an ass.

You’ll never have him-just move on.

It’s for your own good.

All those months, Miranda had assumed Harper was just avoiding the obvious, ugly truth: Miranda wasn’t good enough. Kane was out of her league. She’d even thought Harper was being sweet. Such a good friend, she’d thought, to soften the blow, obscure the truth.

As if Harper knew anything about truth.

She’d taken away the one guy Miranda had ever truly wanted and handed him to Beth. She’d excused herself with one lie after another, enjoying everything she’d ever wanted while Miranda was left feeling worthless and ugly.

But now that the lies were finished and Miranda had Kane all to herself, she was certain: It wasn’t hopeless. There was something between them, even if it was only a kernel of possibility.

And what was she doing about it? Scheming and strategizing how to satisfy her deepest desires? Funneling her empty rage into a plan that would finally put Harper in her place?

Of course not.

She was eating her way through a pound of candy. She was disgusting herself.

Suddenly, Miranda felt the lump of chocolate within her transform itself into a volcano, about to erupt. She needed to purge herself of the calories and, along with them, the helplessness that must have announced to the world, I’m nothing. Walk all over me. She had to purify her body and herself, and then, as the sun rose, she would be ready to face the new day Face Harper. Take care of business.

Taking care of business. Adam gritted his teeth at the memory. That’s what Kane used to say before he went out with a girl he was planning to dump.

And then he would smile, as if it really were a business transaction. As if it were nothing.

And here I am, Adam thought, dwelling and agonizing and analyzing. Like a girl.

So which of us is the freak?

He’d forgotten to shut his blinds the night before, and this morning the sun had woken him. Not that he was getting much sleep these days, thanks to her.

His blood still boiled at the thought of the wasted hours sitting on that train in stony silence, pretending he couldn’t hear her weep behind him.

She brought this misery on herself, he reminded himself.

She wasn’t his problem anymore.

He didn’t care.

He shut his blinds and, when that didn’t make a satisfying enough sound, slammed his fist into the wall.

It hurt so much, he did it again.

No more, he thought. No more dwelling on Harper, letting the anger drive him through the day. And, while he was at it, no more Beth. No more mooning, following, begging, pleading. She didn’t want to forgive him? Fine.

He had his dignity, and it was time Beth understood that.

Forgetting how early it was, he punched in her cell number-for the last time, he told himself. It rang and rang.

“I know you’re screening,” Adam said harshly after the voice mail beep. “And don’t worry. I won’t be bothering you anymore. If you want to be a bitch about all this, fine. I’m out.”

He hung up.

He’d called her a bitch.

It felt good.

And, then, a moment later, it didn’t.

“Look, I’m sorry about what I said,” he began gruffly, after the beep. “You’ve just got to know, the way you’re acting-” No, that wasn’t right. He hung up again. Climbed back into bed and closed his eyes.

But he couldn’t go back to sleep.

Unfinished business and all.

“I know it’s crazy, calling you again, but how the hell else am I supposed to talk to you? You’re so damn sure that everything-” He hung up again, almost threw the phone across the room. This was humiliating. He hated himself for doing it. Hated her for putting him through it. And yet-

“Beth. Look, I’m sorry. Please, just call me back. I-I love you. Please.”

I love you. He’d never said the words aloud. But with Kaia, he’d thought… not that he did, of course-not now, not yet. But maybe someday. Or so he’d imagined.

Just goes to show he must be even stupider than people thought.

Reed pushed the pedal to the floor and the speedometer edged up to 55.The truck couldn’t go any faster. It was a piece of shit, just like everything else in his life.

What had he been thinking, to imagine a girl like that would take him seriously? Her life was like a Ferrari-and his was a clunker that couldn’t even hit the speed limit.

The night before, he hadn’t cared. A few drinks, a few joints, and nothing mattered. But this morning, neck and back sore from sleeping on the guys’ couch, it was all he could think about. He’d been stupid enough to forget who he was and ignore who she was, and he’d let himself get burned.

His guitar rattled around in the back and, suddenly, Reed made an abrupt U-turn, his tires screeching as the truck veered around and headed off down the highway, away from town and into the desert.

He would find a quiet, empty spot and play until his voice went hoarse and his fingers bled. And maybe then he would be able to purge her from his system. Or at least purge the reckless surge of anger that shot through him every time he thought of her and what might have happened.

If only he hadn’t picked up her phone.