Envy

Chapter 2

Saturday morning, Haven High, room 232. The disgruntled seniors, all forty-eight of them, filtered into the room, spitting out variations on the same theme.

It was Saturday.

It was early.

And in a just world, they would all be at home in bed.

No one wanted to be there.

Not Kane, bleary-eyed and hungover from last night’s revelry, who thought studying was for saps and that SAT prep courses, even the lame one-time freebie offered by their tiny public school, should be reserved for those too stupid to score well on their own.

Not Adam, who’d decided he didn’t need the SATs or college-not when he was planning to stay in Grace until the day he died.

Not Beth, for whom every minute wasted in the classroom listening to the teacher drone on was a minute she wasn’t able to spend shut up in her room poring over Princeton Review books and searching for the magic strategy that would guarantee her a perfect score. (And the fact that the class was led by Mr. Powell, that she could feel his eyes boring into her even as she stared resolutely down at her desk? It didn’t help.)

And certainly not Jack Powell, who, as the newest hire, had been compelled to “volunteer” for the Saturday class. Sacrifice his morning. Stare down Beth and pray she wouldn’t grow a spine (or a mouth). Avoid the penetrating gaze of Kaia, whose very unwelcome and very public liplock with him in the middle of a school dance had left him the focus of hallway gossip, faculty lounge whispering, strict administrative scrutiny-and temporary probation.

No, Jack Powell would rather be at home and in bed too. Jack Powell would, in fact, rather be strapped into a dentist’s chair getting a root canal.

But no one had asked him.

“Okay kids, quiet down,” he called out in his clipped British accent. He was only too aware of its charm-he’d made girls swoon all up and down the eastern seaboard, and it wasn’t surprising that the upper crust London inflection had an even greater effect out in this desert wasteland. “I know you don’t want to be here.”

Shouts of agreement.

Join the club, he thought, with more than a trace of bitterness. If his former colleagues could see him now, stranded in the middle of nowhere, policing these deadbeats-in-training. None of them knew how good they had it. He hadn’t known himself, until he’d ended up in this godforsaken corner of the world. And the worst part was, he had no one to blame but himself.

“Well, let’s make it quick and painless, then.” He began to distribute a practice test-at least that would keep them busy for an hour or so.

He looked around at the roomful of students with a flicker of pity. They don’t pay me enough to work on Saturdays, he reminded himself, but hell, these suckers have to be here for nothing.

Two hours later Beth staggered out of the school, feeling like she’d just emerged, not entirely unscathed, from an emotional car wreck. Sitting through French class with Powell was bad enough. Especially with the whole school buzzing about Kaia’s kiss at the dance: Debate still raged as to whether Kaia had thrown herself at the clueless young teacher-or whether the dashing Jack Powell was, in fact, carrying on a not-so-secret affair with his hottest student and God knew who else. Beth flushed every time the subject came up and just hoped no one could read the truth that was, she feared, written all over her red cheeks and tortured frown.

She still couldn’t believe that she’d been stupid enough to trust him. Yes, he was the new sponsor of the newspaper and she was its editor in chief-at the time it had made sense that he’d want to spend a series of long, intimate afternoons together, going over logistics-but it had been more than that, right from the start, hadn’t it? “Call me Jack,” he’d suggested-she shuddered at the memory. She had trusted him, believed in him, confided in him, until that final day. When it turned out that all he wanted was-

“Beth, wakeup!”

That was the trouble with zoning out-it made it a lot harder to avoid the people you didn’t want to see. People like Harper Grace. Haven High’s resident alpha girl: best dressed, best coiffed, best bitch. And, oh yeah, Adam’s best friend.

“Hey, Harper,” Beth greeted her, hoping her grin didn’t seem too fake.

She didn’t like Harper, didn’t trust Harper-but since she’d drifted away from her real girlfriends a few months into the relationship with Adam, she also didn’t have too many other options.

Harper pulled her away from the crowd of students milling across the school grounds and gave her a conspiratorial grin.

“So, I’ve been meaning to ask you,” she said softly. “How are things going with you and Adam?”

“Uh… okay,” Beth responded guardedly.

“No,” Harper leaned in even closer. “I mean with, you know, that problem you were having.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” But Beth had a sinking feeling that she did. She’d made the mistake of confessing her fears about sex, and about her relationship, to Harper. The conversation hadn’t been a total nightmare, but she wasn’t looking for an instant replay anytime soon.

“I’ve been so concerned about you,” Harper said, linking her arm through Beth’s. “I mean, I just feel so terrible for you, with all your issues.”

Beth pulled her arm away but forced herself to do it with a smile. Adam was always urging her to see the good in Harper, and so for his sake she’d tried, and failed, and tried again. She was still working on it-the least she could do in the meantime was be polite.

“So… you two still haven’t…?” Harper prodded.

“That’s really none of your business,” Beth snapped.

Harper looked at her appraisingly. Beth squirmed under the scrutiny of her gaze.

“Mmm-hmm, that’s what I thought,” Harper said finally, nodding her head.

“Look, I really have to go,” Beth told her, pulling away, wishing that a hole would open up and swallow her before their little chat could go any further.

“No, no, I almost forgot why I wanted to talk to you in the first place,” Harper said, once again threading her arm through Beth’s as if they were the best of friends. As if they were anything. “So, listen, you aced that practice test, right?”

Beth darted her eyes toward the ground and reddened slightly.

“I guess… Why?”

“We knew it!” Harper said triumphantly.

“We?”

“Me-and Kane. Look, he’d kill me if he knew I was telling you this, but Kane’s not too hot on standardized tests. He’s a smart guy, but he just freezes up. Have you heard that rumor, how they give you six hundred points just for writing your name?”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled dubiously.

“Well, let’s just say Kane’s going to need it.”

Beth snuck a glance over at the Greek god of Haven High, preening for a couple of blondes from the cheerleading team. Beth wasn’t surprised to hear he was lagging behind. From what she’d seen of Kane (another one of Adam’s friends whose “good side” was impossibly difficult to find), his definition of a hard day’s work involved vodka, girls, and plenty of naps. Still, it didn’t seem like her business-or her problem.

“Why are you telling me this, Harper?” she asked, again pulling her arm away.

“Kane doesn’t want to be stuck in this deadbeat town any more than the rest of us,” Harper explained. “Which means college. Which means decent SAT scores. Which means… he needs your help.”

“Me?” Beth wrinkled her face in surprise-but a warm rush of pride began to spread through her. That they were desperate, and they’d come to her, needed her…

“You,” Harper confirmed. “He wants you to tutor him.”

“Then why isn’t he asking me himself?”

Harper laughed and shrugged. “You know guys, they’re idiots. He’s just embarrassed. Kane can be a little shy sometimes, you know?”

“Kane?” Beth repeated in disbelief. She looked back toward the entrance of the school, where Kane had hoisted one of the cheerleaders into his arms and was now spinning her around as she squealed in mock dismay. He didn’t look shy to her. Arrogant, maybe. Sleazy. Impressed with his own existence. All of the above. But shy?

“I’m not really going to have that much time,” she cautioned Harper. “I don’t know if-”

“Beth, he needs you,” Harper pleaded. “Really, you’re his only hope. He told me he knew you were the only one who’d be able to help him.”

“Really?” When she was eleven, Beth had found a three-legged jackrabbit lying in her backyard and, with her father’s help, had nursed it back to health. She’d never been able to say no to desperation-and today was no different. “Well, I guess if he needs me…”

“Great!” Harper tore a piece of paper from her notebook and scrawled something on it before handing it to Beth. “Here’s his number. I’ll tell him you’re going to call ASAP.”

And she skipped away before Beth had a chance to change her mind.

Mission accomplished-and so easily that it was difficult to feel too proud of herself.

But Harper managed.

“You are going to love me,” she crowed into her cell once Kane answered the phone.

“Not unless you’re waiting for me in the parking lot with some black coffee and a Playboy bunny,” Kane retorted. “Otherwise, I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Yeah, I can see that.” Harper, about a hundred yards away, sneered at the sight of his adoring harem. Had these girls no respect for themselves?

Stupid question.

“What do you mean, you can see?” Kane looked up from the nearest buxom brunette and began scanning the parking lot.

“On your left, loser boy.” Harper waved lazily until he spotted her. “And you’re not too busy for this. Trust me.”

She snapped the phone shut and watched as Kane grudgingly kissed the girls good-bye and jogged over.

“This better be good,” he grumbled once he’d reached her. “I’ve been bored long enough for one day. I need to go out and wash off the stench of all this educational earnestness with some good, old-fashioned debauchery.”

“What you need is to go home and study for the SATs,” Harper countered.

“The SATs?” he asked incredulously.

She nodded.

“The SATs that are three weeks away?”

She nodded again.

“The SATs that I couldn’t give a shit about?”

“You got it.”

“Harper, you know that practice test in there? I scored above a seven hundred on every section. You know what that means?” He spoke slowly and patiently, as if she would soon be taking her own test-English as a second language. “It means I’m not studying today, tomorrow-hell, I may never study again.”

Harper gave him a gentle pat on the back and shook her head sadly. “No, you’re going home and cracking the books. Right now, and tomorrow, and the next day. You’re going to make the library your new best friend.”

“And why would I want to do that?” he sneered.

Harper grinned, and jerked a thumb across the parking lot toward Beth, who was climbing into Adam’s rusty maroon Chevrolet.

“Meet your new tutor.”

Kane’s eyes widened. “You didn’t!”

“Oh, I did.”

Harper laid out her vision for him-long, late nights huddled together over the books; frequent breaks for coffee, pizza, and intimate getting-to-know-you sessions; close quarters; moonlit strolls; high stress, low inhibitions-when Harper Grace made a deal, she delivered. And even Kane had to admit that she had just delivered Beth to his doorstep, complete with gift wrap and ruffled bow.

“And while I’m sweeping Beth off her feet with my charm and feigned stupidity, I assume you’ll be… taking care of Adam?”

Harper allowed herself a moment to enjoy a second vision: Adam, sitting at home, bored, lonely, angry, jealous, and primed for… well, anything.

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” she said sweetly.

Kane laughed and slung an arm around her shoulders.

“And I have no doubt, Grace,” he assured her, “that you’re just the girl to do it.”

Having finished eavesdropping on the pathetic scheming out in the parking lot, Kaia headed back inside the school to take care of some unfinished business. Watching Harper and Kane haplessly put together their juvenile little plot had inspired her-why should they be the only ones having any fun?

She tugged down her silk tank top and hitched up her blue miniskirt so that her perfect (and worth every cent) cleavage and Pilates-sculpted thighs had maximum visibility. Then she stepped inside the classroom. Jack Powell may have thought he could avoid her forever, but his time had just run out.

“Hey, Mr. Powell,” she whispered, leaning against the door frame and aiming an unmistakable look in his direction familiar to any adult-movie fan as a silent “Hey, big guy, throw me down and do me right here on the floor” invitation. It was intended to be ironic. Partly. “Long time, no see.”

“I see you every day in class, Ms. Sellers,” he said. She shivered at the sound of his voice. “And trust me, that’s quite enough.”

He turned his back on her. Big mistake.

Kaia closed the door and crossed the empty classroom, shedding the cheesy sex-me-up grin as she went. It seemed Mr. Powell was still playing hard to get-and she was beginning to enjoy his game. She laid a light hand on the small of his back, saying, “I see you every day in French-but I’m not sure you’re really seeing me.”

He whirled around to face her and backed away.

“What kind of game are you playing?” he hissed. “Isn’t it enough for you that I’m on probation after your little stunt at the dance? It was all I could do to talk them out of firing me.”

“Hey, don’t look at me, I’m the victim here,” Kaia countered. “According to Mr. Hemp, at least.” Kaia had been reprimanded for her “flagrant disregard of Mr. Powell’s personal space” and had been sentenced to six weeks’ worth of meetings with the school psychologist, who, she suspected, had received his pseudo degree off the Internet, if not purchased it at Shrinks “R” Us. She would have preferred a prison term.

“Victim?” He snorted. “I’m warning you, Kaia, if you’re trying to spread some kind of-if you think you can set me up-”

“Chill out, Jack.” She flashed an insouciant grin. “I think you got my message. This time I come in peace. I want to call a truce.”

“A truce?” he repeated dubiously. “So this means you’re going to stop throwing yourself at me and end this apparent quest to get me fired?”

“Provisional yes to the latter, definite no to the former.” She leaned forward to give him a quick peck on the lips, but he twisted his face away, and instead her lips brushed his coarse stubble. Good enough. “You want me, Mr. Powell. You just don’t know it yet. But you will.”

“I want you to get out of here,” he said coldly, “and make sure that no one sees you go. And then I want you to drop French and do me the favor of pretending I don’t exist. Or at least letting me pretend that about you. Let’s start now.”

He sat down at the desk and began shuffling through a stack of papers, pointedly refusing to look at her.

Kaia stood before him, hands on her hips, shaking her head and clucking her tongue against the roof of her mouth, like a mother reprimanding her young.

“Mr. Powell, I thought we’d already established that if I want to, I can make life here very unpleasant for you. You said it yourself-I can be trouble. You’re right. I don’t think you want to be rude to me.”

Silence. And more paper shuffling.

“Okay,” Kaia agreed, heading for the door. “You’re lucky I’m in a ‘make love, not war’ mood… for now.”

After escaping the SAT session, Beth and Adam treated themselves to an impromptu picnic in Dwyer Park (complete with brownish tufts of grass, brownish decaying picket fence, and brownish pond-as desert oases went, it ranked somewhere between Palm Springs and a garbage dump). Once they’d gotten everything set up, Adam ran off to grab them some soda from the nearby drugstore. Beth’s phone rang as soon as he was gone.

It was Kane. She’d left a message for him just after leaving the school, so she wasn’t surprised to see his name pop up on her caller ID. Still, it was strange-he’d never called her before. And if he had, she probably wouldn’t have picked up the phone.

They only spoke for a few minutes, just enough time to agree on the tutoring and pick a time for their first meeting. But the conversation wasn’t nearly as awkward as she’d feared-and weirdly, Beth found herself almost looking forward to their first encounter.

She put the phone away with a quizzical frown. Kane had seemed so genuine, so earnest, so pleasant, so… totally un-Kane-like. He’d limited himself to only two sarcastic comments and one sexual innuendo. For a five-minute conversation, it had to be a personal best. And even stranger-he actually seemed to want her help. He seemed to want to do well, whatever it would take.

Kane? Working? Had she walked out of the school this morning and into some alternate universe?

The Kane she knew-though, granted, she didn’t know him very well and had never wanted to change that-thought hard work meant applying a little extra torque when opening a stuck bottle lid. And even that was only worth it if the bottle contained some kind of alcoholic beverage or was handed to him by a weak and soon to be very grateful cheerleader. Back before she and Adam had gotten together, Kane had chased after her, as he did every girl-for about a day. She’d blown him off, and he’d disappeared. Kane didn’t believe in making an effort.

She shook her head. This time he really must be desperate.

“Who was on the phone?” Adam asked, sitting down on the worn quilt that served as their picnic blanket and passing her a deliciously cool bottle of Coke.

“Your best friend, actually.” Searching for a relief from the searing, dry heat of the afternoon, she pressed the bottle against her forehead, enjoying the icy chill that ran down her spine.

“Harper?” he asked, confused.

Beth flinched. She respected Adam’s friendship with the beautiful girl next door, but she didn’t have to like it.

“No, your other best friend-you remember Kane, don’t you?”

Adam shook his head in disgust. “What, is he trying to track me down? Dude, I never should have told him I was going out with you today.”

“Actually, he was looking for me,” Beth said, smacking him lightly with an annoyance that was only half for show.

“You? Why would he be calling you?”

“People have been known to want to talk to me,” she informed him, irritation mounting.

“I know, I know,” Adam murmured, kissing her on the forehead. “You’re in high demand. In fact,” he added, kissing his way down her nose and landing on her lips, “I want you right now.”

“He wants my help,” Beth explained, somewhat mollified. “With studying for the SATs.”

“Kane? Studying?” Adam burst into laughter. “I don’t think so. Seriously, what did he want?”

“I know, I thought it was weird too,” Beth admitted. “But he seems to really want a tutor.”

“And he asked you?”

“Why wouldn’t he ask me?”

“I just meant-whatever,” Adam stopped himself. “So he’s had a personality overhaul and wants a tutor for the SATs. You’re not going to do it, are you?”

“Of course I am-he’s my friend,” she reminded him. “Well… he’s your friend. And he needs my help. Why wouldn’t I do it?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because these days you’re too busy to eat or sleep, not to mention see your boyfriend?” He kept his voice level and light, but Beth could feel the dangerous tension bubbling beneath the surface. There just didn’t seem to be much she could do about it-and she couldn’t stop herself from egging him on.

“Not all of us want to spend our lives lying around watching TV and drinking beer,” she snapped, hating herself for it the moment she heard the words slip out of her mouth. “At least Kane cares about something and is willing to work hard to get it. How could I say no to that?”

“Fine,” he grunted.

“Fine.” And, after a moment, “we’re starting tomorrow.”

“What?” he yelped. “We’ve got plans for tomorrow!”

“I know,” she said in a gentler voice. “I’m sorry-it’s just, he wanted to get started right away, and he seemed so desperate…”

“You see? This is exactly what I’m talking about! How hard was it to find some time together this weekend, and now you’re just…?” He threw up his arms in disgust.

“Adam, stop.” Beth took his hands in hers and clasped them to his chest. “I’m here, with you, now. Can’t we just enjoy this?”

He didn’t respond, but he left his hands in hers, and she felt a gentle pressure squeezing back. Beth looked around-the park was mostly empty, and they were partially hidden from view by a cluster of decrepit trees.

She brought his hands to her lips and kissed them softly, then released them. He grazed his fingers across her cheekbones and cradled her face.

“How about if we stop talking about Kane for a while?” she suggested, lying back on the quilt and pulling him down beside her. He stroked her hair, and she breathed in the nearness of him, the familiar scent that somehow evoked both a cozy kitchen of fresh baked bread and the wide expanse of a bright summer morning. “Why don’t we just-”

“Stop talking at all for a while?” he finished for her, his hands slipping under her pale pink shirt and massaging her bare skin.

Beth sighed, feeling her tension slip away. It sounded like a plan.