And, ever obedient, Adam did as he was told.
Maybe he would follow the coach’s advice and spend his week off trying to relax, trying to move on and forget about the wreck Harper, Kane, and Kaia had made out of his life. Maybe he could even accept that Beth wasn’t going to forgive him. Maybe he could find a way to live without the constant urge to break something.
Maybe.
Kaia used to struggle with staying awake in school; now, though it seemed like she hadn’t slept in days, she arrived every morning feeling like she’d injected a double espresso directly into her bloodstream. She was too aware of every set of eyes that might be tracking her path down the hall.
She stared down at her desk every day in French class, feeling Powell’s gaze resting on her from across the room. Reed was nowhere to be found, and yet it felt like he was everywhere, lurking in corners, peering out from behind lockers, sneaking glimpses of her-but disappearing as soon as she sensed his presence.
She’d had her car repainted and washed it three times, but she could still trace her fingers along the ghostly letters. They were too faint to make out, but she knew they were there, hiding under the new coat of paint, for only her to see.
So she spent her days watching and waiting, and her nights lingering in town, wandering the narrow, broken down streets of Grace, preferring to stay away from her empty house and its loud silence. The last three nights she’d gone to a movie at the Starview Theater. The same movie was showing each night-Clueless. She didn’t like the film very much; as someone intimately familiar with a realworld life of luxury, she didn’t have much patience with the movie’s shoddy impersonation. But still there was something strangely appealing about sitting alone in the dark, surrounded by strangers, watching a completely predictable life unfold with perfect symmetry on the screen.
Besides, it gave her something to do.
It was ridiculous, Kaia told herself, spinning the combination lock on her locker, all this angst over a one-time thing. It could have been a random act of vandalism-it’s not like there weren’t enough bored delinquents running loose in this town. There was no reason to think that she’d been a carefully chosen target.
Kaia opened up her locker, and a small envelope fell out. An envelope she’d never seen before, an envelope that couldn’t have been slipped in through the vent because her locker had no vent. Just a door, and a lock. And someone out there knew the combination.
She looked up and down the hallway. No one was watching her.They were all absorbed in their own lives. Or so it appeared.
The envelope was small, and light blue. And it was blank. She stuck a nail under the seam and slowly ripped it open, unaware that she was holding her breath.
She pulled out three small pieces of glossy paper. And now she breathed again, harsh and fast. They were photos.
The first, a distance shot of her buying a movie ticket.
The second, framed by her living room window, showing her curled up on the couch, eyes fixed on the TV.
The third, a close-up, her head tipped back against a wooden deck, her hair wet and plastered against her face. Her eyes closed. And there was something else in the frame, a hand, reaching down toward her face, toward the lock of hair that covered her left eyes. Proving that it wasn’t a telephoto lens, that someone had been there.
Close enough to touch.
“I didn’t do it.” Miranda could come up with no strategy other than repeating that over and over, until they believed her.
“Ms. Stevens, we have proof. Mr. Powell found traces of your file on the newsroom computer.” The vice principal nodded in the direction of Jack Powell, who stood behind his desk, stone-faced and silent. “You were the only one logged in that morning. But we do suspect you had an accomplice. Who were you working with?”
“No one,” Miranda protested. “I didn’t do it.” She was shaking. She and Harper had gotten into plenty of trouble over the years, but never anything that had landed her here, squeezed into an uncomfortable chair, facing down the vice principal and fending off the claustrophobic conviction that the walls of his office were closing in. And she’d never gotten into trouble without Harper by her side. It was different, she was quickly discovering, when you were alone.
“If you tell us who it is, Ms. Stevens, I might consider your cooperation when deciding your punishment. What you’ve done is very serious, you realize. This will go on your permanent record. It could affect your entire future.”
Was her loyalty to a girl she barely knew and barely liked really worth getting into even more trouble? Miranda didn’t know-but she knew she wasn’t a rat. Once Beth found out they’d been caught, she would surely insist on turning herself in-say what you wanted about Beth, she at least had principles-but Miranda wasn’t about to make the decision for her, no matter what it cost. She lifted her head up and crossed her arms in an effort to look resolute-and to stop herself from trembling.
“I’m sorry. I wish I could help you, but I can’t.”
“This is a one-shot deal, Stevens.Tell me now, and I can help you. But once I’ve decided on your punishment-”
“I’m sorry,” she repeated. “I can’t.”
“Very well, then.” He rubbed the large brown birthmark on his forehead, then looked down at his desk and began flipping through a stack of papers, as if to signify that she was no longer worth his time. “A month of detentions, then, starting today.”
Miranda got up to leave, doing her best to hold back the tears. Harper would never cry in a situation like this. She would just grin at the vice principal, making it clear that nothing he could do or say would affect her in the least. Miranda couldn’t manage a smile, but at least she didn’t cry.
“Stevens,” the vice principal said as she was almost out the door, “you’ve made a very poor choice here today. I hope, for your sake, you don’t look back on this moment and realize it was a huge mistake.”
Kane ambushed her right outside the vice principal’s office. She’d caught him at his weakest moment, so it seemed only fair to return the favor.
“I have to admit,” he said, slipping up from behind her, “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Miranda flushed and looked away, one hand flying up, as if on its own, to check that her hair was sufficiently in place. The small gesture was all it took to confirm Kane’s suspicions.
“Didn’t know I had what in me?” she asked in confusion, smiling widely despite the tears forming at the corner of each eye.
“I think you know what.” He jerked his head back toward the office. “What’d they give you? Life without parole? Plus a little community service?”
“A months detention,” she said ruefully. “Wait-you know, and you’re not mad?”
“Mad?” Kane grinned at her, delighting in the way the blood all rushed back to her face. Not that there weren’t plenty of girls falling all over themselves to have him, but Miranda was different. She’d always been a bit of a riddle, and there was something almost comforting about being able to tuck her neatly into a recognizable category. Something a bit disappointing, as well-she didn’t belong with the bimbos. “Why would I be mad?” he asked, stroking his chin in deep thought. “Just because you spread a bunch of embarrassing rumors about me to the whole school?” She raised her eyebrows as if to say, well… yes.
“I was mad,” he allowed. But it had, after all, been such a feeble scheme. And there was almost something endearingly pathetic about Miranda’s little attempt to strike back. Like a kitten trying to take down a tiger. “I was mad,” he repeated, “but it’s not a deal breaker.” He put an arm around her, the way he had a hundred times over the course of their friendship-except, this time, he noticed the way she brightened up at his touch. “Besides, I’m kind of impressed. It’s good to see you raising a little hell.”