Who knew being waited on hand and foot could be so exhausting?
Of course, perhaps she could have enjoyed the novelty of the experience a bit more had the two underclassmen in question not spent the better part of the year following her around and imitating her every move. A theme song from one of those old Nick at Nite shows floated into her head: “They laugh alike, they walk alike, at times they even talk alike-you can lose your mind… ”
That sounded about right. And now Mini-Me and her best friend Mini-She were stuck to her like glue, jockeying for the right to clean off her cafeteria seat. The best time of my life? Harper thought dryly. Starting when?
“Why don’t you go get me something from the vending machine,” she suggested to Mini-She, then turned to Mini-Me. “And you can go buy me some lunch.”
“Coke? Diet Coke? Sprite? Vitamin Water? Gatorade? Snapple?”
“Salad? Meat loaf? Meat loaf and salad? And what kind of dressing? And what if there are fries? Or some kind of vegetable? Or-?”
“Vitamin water. Salad, make sure it’s not just lettuce, Italian dressing. And-” It was going to be a long day; she deserved a treat. “Plenty of fries.”
They were gone, and she was left with a blessed silence, so sweet that she was disinclined to scope out the cafeteria and find herself an appropriately high-powered table; better just to stand to the side for a moment and try to gather her strength. She’d been working on her icy, expressionless face, and she deployed it now. You never knew who was watching.
She didn’t notice him at first-people like that flew below her radar; and even when she registered his presence, dimly, all she noticed were the ripped jeans and the scuffed sneakers, the long hair and the grease-stained fingers, and she expected him to pass her by.
It wasn’t until he spoke that she looked at his face.
“Hey.” He slouched against a wall and tilted his head down, looking up at her briefly, then looking away again, as if stealing glances at the sun.
“Hey.” No stolen glances here; she stared, unabashedly, trying to figure out what Kaia had seen in him. There must have been something, but it was well disguised. True, his black T-shirt hugged some impressive arm muscles, and he did have that whole dark, sullen man of mystery thing going for him. But judging from the smell, the only mystery was how he’d managed to afford so much pot.
Probably grew his own, Harper decided. That’s what they always did on TV.
She knew she should say something caustic and send him away; he wasn’t the type she should be seen talking to, especially not now, with her reputation on the bubble. But she was too curious to hear what he was going to say-and how she was going to respond.
“I’m Reed,” he said.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Kaia and me, we-”
“Yeah, I know that, too.” She didn’t, not really. Kaia had never talked much about her life. But she’d dropped enough hints, and Harper had witnessed one kiss steamy enough to confirm that something was going on.
“I want to ask… I need to know…”
She felt a fist tighten around her heart. She’d been waiting for this, she realized. He would want to know all about it, what happened, every detail. Did she suffer? Did she scream? Did she know?
I don’t remember! Harper wanted to shout. I know what you know. Leave me alone. But she stayed silent and kept her placid, patient smile fixed on her face. Maybe she wanted him to ask. At the very least, she could understand why he wanted to know: She did, too.
“Were you two, like, friends?”
“What?” It was so far from what she’d been expecting that it took her a moment to process.
“I don’t know, I just thought-how are you, uh, doing?”
Harper let out a ragged breath, a precursor to a laugh or a sob-she wasn’t sure which. What did he want, some kind of partner in crime for his adventures in grieving? As if the two of them would walk off hand in hand somewhere and cry on each other s shoulders? As if she could ever open up to someone like him?
If not him, then who?
“Uh, anyway, if you ever need, like, to talk-” He put a hand on her shoulder. A wave of emotion washed through her, and it wasn’t the annoyance or revulsion she would have expected. It was comfort-and gratitude. You too, she wanted to say. But she couldn’t force the words out.
”Excuse me?” Mini-She slammed three bottles of soda down on the table and advanced toward Reed, hands on hips. “What are you doing here?”
“Am I hallucinating, or are you, like, touching her?” Mini-Me chimed in, sliding a heaping lunch tray next to the drinks and joining her co-clone.
“You must be hallucinating,” Mini-She pointed out, “because no way would someone like him be bothering someone like us.”
“Don’t you have, like, an engine to build?” Mini-Me asked. “Or some fires to set?”
“He’s probably just begging for funds for his next pot buy,” Mini-She suggested. She waved disdainfully. “Sorry, but charity hour’s over for the day. Better luck next time.”
Harper wanted to stop them, but if she did that, and took a stand, it would surely mean something-and she didn’t have the energy to find out what.
“Yeah…,” Reed mumbled. “This was a mistake. Later.”
“Try never!” Mini-Me called as he ambled away. Then she burst into giggles. “God, Harper, were you actually talking to that waste of space?”
“You’re such an airhead,” Mini-She taunted her friend. “She’s Queen for a Day, remember? She was just waiting around for us to get rid of him for her.”
“Which, by the way, you’re welcome.” Mini-Me did an exaggerated curtsy. “We’re at your service, as always.”
“Great job,” Harper said weakly She slumped into a chair at the nearest table. The giggle twins bounced down beside her.
“They didn’t have Vitamin Water,” Mini-She explained, pushing a handful of bottles across the table. “So I got you some Sprite, and Diet Coke, and some Poland Spring, and I can go back if you want something else…”
“And the salad looked kind of dingy,” Mini-Me added, setting a tray in front of Harper. It was piled high with a lump of brownish slime, surrounded by heaps of creamy beige sludge. “So I got you the… well, I’m not sure what it is, but there’s plenty of protein. And then I got the mashed potatoes instead of the fries, you know, so there’d still be something healthy…”
They gazed at her from across the table, identical expressions of nervous excitement trembling on their faces.
Harper felt sick at the thought of eating anything, especially the steaming heap sitting before her. She felt even sicker at the thought of sending the idiots away with a bitchy comment or two-much as she longed for some alone time, their words to Reed still hung in the air. They’d just been imitating her; she couldn’t bring herself to repay the favor.
“This is great, guys,” she said instead. “Everything’s fine. Thanks.” She grabbed the Sprite and took a fake sip. Ten minutes, she promised herself, and then she’d be up and out.
“You okay, Harper? You look kind of pale.”
“Yeah, and no offense, but you’re a little, like, sweaty. You sure you’re okay?”
The more times she had to say it, the bigger the lie. But it’s not like she had any other option.