“What was that about facing the truth? Oh, ‘I don’t want to hurt you,’” Harper said, pouring a bucket of fake sympathy into her voice, “‘but it’ll be good for you to face reality.’ Life isn’t always what you want it to be, after all. You want to be sexy, desirable, and stick thin-but instead all you are is a pathetic closet-case bulimic who’s so incompetent at keeping your oh-so-special secret that the whole world knows what a head-case you are.”
“Harper, stop it,” Miranda whispered, backing away. “Please.”
“And if you want to talk hard truths, here’s another one,” Harper yelled. “Kane will never love you. He knows how you feel, and he’s playing with you. Like a toy. Get it? You’re a joke to him. You’re nothing.”
Harper wanted to stop herself now. She’d gone too far. She pressed her hand against her lips, to stop the flood of words. But the dam wouldn’t hold for more than a second. Screaming at Miranda, forcing the tears out of her, was the only way to drown out everything that Miranda had said. And everything she hadn’t said.
Because Harper could fill in the blanks.
You wouldn’t have to face the fact that maybe you caused this.
Beth would never have done it, if it hadn’t been for you.
Kaia might still be alive if it hadn’t been for you.
You destroyed everything good in Beth’s life-what did you expect her to do?
You still got in the car. You’re still the one who was behind the wheel.
“Shut up!” she screamed, even though Miranda hadn’t said anything. “You’ve been following after Kane like a sick little groupie for all these years, and where has it gotten you? You’re alone, you’re bitter, and you puke your guts out every day like the before version of some Oprah charity project. And you want to lecture me about avoiding the truth? You make me sick.”
Miranda fled, flinging open the door-and slamming into Kane, who was waiting just outside. It was obvious he’d heard everything. She took one look at him, let out a thin cry of despair, and ran away. “Miranda!” he called. “Wait-” But she kept running.
Kane stared after her for a moment, then turned slowly toward Harper. “How could you?” he asked, his voice icy.
She just wanted to crawl into a corner and die. “Kane, I-”
“Don’t.” He’d never looked at her that way before: stern and serious. Disappointed. “Just don’t.” And he spun around and left her behind.
Harper gulped in one deep breath after another, trying to summon up the strength to figure out what to do.
She needed to do something. She needed to fix this, fix everything. But it was all so screwed up. How could all of her friends turn on her like that-why couldn’t they see that Beth was the enemy? Why were they so ready to give her their sympathy and to leave Harper to fend for herself?
You drove them away, a voice in her head pointed out.
But that wasn’t what she wanted to hear. She wanted to hear someone rage against Beth for what she’d done. She wanted to hear that she wasn’t the only one who cried herself to sleep most nights, imagining that she could still hear Kaia’s icy laugh.
Or Kaia’s screams.
She wanted someone to blame for everything that had happened. She wanted someone to punish.
And though her friends may have abandoned her, she suddenly realized that she wasn’t alone.
It took a few phone calls and a little detective work, but in Grace, CA, there were far fewer than six degrees of separation between Harper and, well, anyone. She had the phone number in under five minutes. It only rang once.
“Beth?” a voice asked hopefully. “Where did you-”
“It’s not Beth,” she snapped. “Is this Reed?”
“Yeah, but who-”
“This is Harper Grace. We need to talk.”
Sleep was impossible. But Beth had gotten good at pretending. She lay on her side, Adam’s arm curled protectively around her, his face pressed against her shoulder, and kept her eyes closed, listening to his steady breathing. Her arm was twisted at an odd angle and had long ago fallen asleep; her neck ached, and she longed for a tissue with which to blow her stuffed-up nose or to clean the dried tears off her face. But she didn’t want to move, lest she wake him.
She didn’t want him to leave.
Because she was so intently focused on Adam-the comforting pressure of his body, the soft, snuffling sounds he made as he slept, the tickle of his hot breath on her neck-she didn’t hear the door inch open, or the footsteps creep toward the bed. And because she had her eyes closed, she didn’t see the figure standing over her, fists clenched.
But she smelled him. Stale coffee, cigarettes, motor oil, and the faint sweetness of fresh-grown marijuana. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, hoping he would believe the pose and go away, so she wouldn’t have to face him-not like this.
“Is this a fucking joke?” he growled loudly.
Adam jerked awake and stared groggily at the intruder. Beth opened her eyes and sat up, wondering how much he knew, and how much she would have the courage to tell him.
“We fell asleep,” she lied. “But nothing happened. Adam was just-”
“You think I give a shit what you do with him?” Reed’s voice, usually so warm and slow, pelted her like hail, rapid and unforgiving. “You can screw every guy in town, for all I care. You can fucking die, for all I care.”
And she knew that he knew.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Adam said, about to stand up. Beth put a hand on his back.
“Let me,” she told him. This was her battle to lose. “Reed…” Her voice sounded strangled. Which is how she felt. “I wanted to tell you myself-”
“I comforted you,” he spit out, looking disgusted. “I touched you, I held you, I let myself-” He sagged against the wall and wiped the back of his hand against his mouth, as if to wipe the memory of her off his lips.
“How did you find out?” she asked in a whisper.
Harper stepped through the open door. “I told him.” She glared smugly at Adam. Beth didn’t turn to see his reaction. She didn’t care about anything right now but making Reed understand.
“It was an accident,” she told him, the tears returning even though she thought she’d wept herself dry. “It was a mistake. I should have told you. I know. But…”
“But you didn’t.”
“Because I thought you’d hate me!” she cried.
“You were right.”
“Reed…” Beth lunged toward him, then, pulling him toward her, wrapped her arms around him and clutched his worn cotton T-shirt in tight fists so he couldn’t escape. She expected him to push her away, but he didn’t move, just stood there in her embrace, his arms at his sides, his head staring straight ahead over her shoulder, motionless, like a mannequin. She glanced over at Harper, hating to do this in front of her. But she had no choice. “Up on the roof, I only ran away because-because I was afraid of this. I told you! I told you I didn’t deserve you, that you didn’t really know me…”
“So this is my fault for not believing you?”
“No! No, that’s not what I mean.” She clutched him tighter and closed her eyes again, trying to memorize everything about his body, knowing this might be her last chance. “I just don’t want you to think that I was… I wanted to stay with you. I didn’t want any of this to happen. I wanted to tell you…” She lowered her voice so that only he would hear. “I’m in love with you, too.”
There was no answer.
“Reed? Did you hear me? I love you. And maybe we can find a way-”