Harper opened her mouth-then closed it again. She couldn't betray Adam's confidence. At least not until she heard all of what Kane had to say.

"That could work," she mused.

He shook his head slowly but surely. "Not so much-think about it. Beth breaks up with Adam in a fit of anger, and Adam spends the rest of his life trying to win her back. And I don't think either of us wants to deal with that."

"Agreed," Harper said, her heart sinking. He was right-and she had nothing. Nothing that wouldn't turn Harper and Adam's potential relationship into collateral damage. "In fact, I think Adam needs to be the one to break it off," she concluded in spite of herself. "He feels betrayed, she feels unjustly wronged, they both want nothing to do with each other and go running into our arms."

"Sounds like the perfect plan. Except ..." Kane sighed in exasperation. "We still need to figure out how to get from point A to point B."

"We'll figure it out," she comforted him. "In the meantime we continue to drive Adam out of his mind with jealousy?"

"You got it. And, hey, never underestimate the power of the Kane Geary charisma. For all I know, a couple more of these study 'dates' and she'll be begging me to hit the bedroom."

Harper balled up a piece of paper and tossed it at his big, fat head. "Leaving Adam ready and waiting for some sympathetic TLC from his beautiful next door neighbor?" she suggested sarcastically. "Unlikely."

"Hey, you never know-it could happen."

It's not like Miranda had no one to eat lunch with. No, she rea.s.sured herself, she had plenty of friends. Just because Harper had randomly decided to skip out on lunch didn't mean Miranda was adrift on some sea of loserdom. There were plenty of people she could sit with, plenty who would covet her presence at their table if only because the reflected beams of Harper's glory made Miranda glow with the light of borrowed popularity. But the prospect of pushing "food" around on her tray while listening to the stupid simpering of these so-called friends-without Harper across the table to exchange timely eye rolls with-was just too much for her to handle this afternoon. So instead, Miranda opted for a snack machine lunch (granola bar and mini canister of Pringles) at the newspaper office, which had a door that locked and a couch that creaked noisily but had yet to collapse.

But first, a pit stop at the girls' bathroom. She stood in front of the mirror, touching up her makeup-and making a mental note that a makeup makeover would definitely have to be the next stop on her road to self-improvement. The peach frosted lip gloss and smoky gray eye shadow she'd picked out in tenth grade just wouldn't do. Her mother, though usually having more than enough to say on the subject of Miranda's appearance-and how to improve it-knew nothing about makeup herself. She'd been able to contribute very little to Miranda's education on the subject beyond such helpful pointers as "That blush makes you look like a wh.o.r.e."

The bathroom was surprisingly uncrowded for this time of day. A couple stoners lurked in the back corner, from the sound of it competing over who had more Phish bootlegs. A cl.u.s.ter of super-skinny bottle blondes-Miranda didn't recognize them, so figured they must be freshmen-hogged most of the mirror area, reapplying their hairspray and shimmery lipstick. From the short skirts to the perfect manicures to the c.o.c.ky tilt of their heads Miranda could tell they were jockeying for a place in the line of succession, ready to fill the power vacuum once Harper had graduated. Cosmo clones, Miranda thought disdainfully. They could look the part all they wanted, but they'd never have that spark, that something special Harper had that made people want to follow her to the ends of the earth (or at least to the end of good judgment). Harper was a leader. These girls-it was obvious-were sheep.

And yet ...

And yet, she thought, looking from one perfectly sculpted and outfitted body to the next, wasn't this exactly the look she was craving?

Long, silky smooth hair that could bounce and blow in the wind-Miranda's hair was brittle, thin, and impossibly flat. Flawless complexions-Miranda had zits and freckles. Long, slim, tanned legs-Miranda's thunder thighs were albino pale.

The girls bustled out of the bathroom, chattering about who had hooked up that weekend and who was feeling fat. Big surprise-unanimous responses to both.

Miranda sighed and considered trying to score some pot off the stoners in the corner, anything to calm the rising tide of anxiety she suddenly felt at the daunting prospect of finding a way to turn herself into that. Not that she wanted to be vapid, of course. But beautiful? Stylish? Skinny? The kind of girl who screams "high maintenance" but which, it seemed, was all any worthwhile guy wanted?

Yes, please.

Haven High was a small school. Claustrophobically small, it sometimes seemed to Adam. But he'd done a decent job so far of avoiding Kaia. He hadn't spoken to her, in fact, since their last encounter. He still shuddered at the thought of it-the intense, mind-blowing s.e.x in an abandoned motel, followed almost immediately by an utterly humiliating blow-off. What a loser he'd been. He saw that now. It was too late, of course-he'd done it, this huge, horrible thing that weighed on him, crushed him, and yet still flickered through his fantasies, taunting him with what he couldn't have yet still, in some deep part of him, wanted.

Beth had wondered why he suddenly stopped following Kaia around and inviting her out with the group, but she had no fond feelings for Kaia herself, so hadn't wondered very long or very loudly. And maybe she didn't want to know.

Still, it was a small school, and he'd been bound to b.u.mp into Kaia eventually. He just hadn't counted on a literal collision.

"Oh, sorry!" he exclaimed, after spinning away from his locker and slamming into someone rushing past him down the hall. Then-"Oh, it's you." Suddenly, the split-second collision became, in his mind, an embrace, as if he could still feel the ghostly touch of his body pressing against hers, their hands and chests and hips awkwardly rubbing against each other, her silky hair whipping across his face.

"And it's you, too," she pointed out. "Where've you been, stranger?"

"Far away from you, which I thought was how you wanted it." Her words to him at their last meeting echoed through his head. And the mocking laughter.

"Oh, Adam, I hope I didn't hurt your feelings." She placed a soft hand on his chest-he pushed it away. "I don't know what I'd do if I thought you hated me!"

"Give it up, Kaia," he said harshly. "I'm not falling for your c.r.a.p again. Find someone new to screw over."

Kaia rolled her eyes. "Oh, right," she scoffed. "You're such the wounded victim, used and abused, right? You didn't seem to mind the s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g part so much."

"Shut up," he hissed, suddenly aware of the students swarming around them. Watching. Listening? "I thought we agreed you weren't going to tell anyone about that."

"Oh, calm down. My lips are sealed. Why would I do anything to get between you and your precious Beth?"

"I appreciate that, Kaia." He tried to ignore the disdainful edge to her voice. Kaia, he'd decided, was like a venomous snake-you just had to be very careful, stay very still, and wait her out until she got bored and went away.

"Of course," she added, smirking, "maybe I'm not the one you need to worry about."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, against his better judgment.

"I saw your blushing rose getting cozy in the coffee shop with your supposed best friend the other day. Just thought you'd want to know."

"Old news," he said, affecting nonchalance. Ignoring the taste of bile. "She's tutoring him for the SATs. I know all about it. And it's completely innocent." And this he believed wholeheartedly, he told himself. He had to, right?

"So I heard. Such a sweet girl, to commit her time to helping him, when she's oh so busy. But totally innocent, of course," she a.s.sured him, voice dripping with false sincerity. "I'm sure you're right. Just another platonic extracurricular, like any other: yearbook, newspaper, party planning ..."

She narrowed her gaze suggestively and Adam felt the tips of his ears turn red. It was, after all, planning a party that had brought Adam and Kaia together in the first place. A few weeks' worth of purely platonic meetings culminating in one night of illicit but extraordinary pa.s.sion.

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about, though," she said after a moment of silence. "I mean, you're in love, right? And that's what love is all about-trust."

Trust. Right.

If Beth's love for him proved as trustworthy as his love for her, they were in for some serious problems.

Job well done, Kaia congratulated herself. Adam had, of course, walked away from her in disgust, but she could see the beginnings of doubt in the nervous twist of his lip and the tiny rivulets of sweat that traced a path down the muscles of his neck. She'd gotten under his skin-again.

Kaia laughed to herself. It probably wasn't very nice of her to pick on Adam again. After all, he was such an easy mark, and clearly still smarting from their last encounter. On the other hand, she considered, she'd given him a true gift-one that he'd certainly enjoyed enough at the time, no matter how much he may now claim she'd ruined his life. Didn't she deserve to have some fun too? And if it was fun at Beth Manning's expense, even better. Much as she tried, she couldn't forget the fact that Mr. Powell had chosen that simpering softie over her. Yes, it was clearly because he thought Kaia spelled trouble, while Beth would be easy prey. Powell was a predator; it was why she liked him so much. But still, there it was-he'd rejected her in favor of Beth, and while that was a lapse in judgment she was willing to forgive, Beth still needed to pay.

This time, she'd decided, there was no reason to go it alone. Not when such a good game was already afoot.

So she headed to the library. She'd spotted Harper heading in that direction at the beginning of lunch period, and she had a sneaking suspicion she'd find her huddled over a desk with Kane, hatching some pathetic plan. It was time to lend these small-town tricksters the wisdom of her experience.

Why?

Why the h.e.l.l not?

She found them just as she'd imagined, heads together, arms waving animatedly, whispers flying. She crept up slowly behind Harper, finger to her lips, trusting Kane to keep his poker face, which he did, right up to the moment that Kaia tapped Harper on the shoulder and smiled angelically into her face, which reflected, in quick succession, surprise, guilt, and disgust. Harper settled on the latter, but Kaia kept up her icy smile.

"What do you want?" Harper hissed. "We re busy here."

"I don't mind if the lovely Kaia joins us," Kane said generously.

"Shut up, Kane." Harper glared at him, then turned back to Kaia. "Why are you still here?"

"What, is this where you tell me, 'This is an A, B conversation, and I should C my way out of it?'" Kaia sneered.

"I was leaning more toward, 'This is an X, Z conversation, so Y don't you just go away," Harper corrected her. "Or at least I would have been if this were 1998 and we were ten years old. What do you think this is, VH1's Lamest Slang of the '90s?"

"Well, your outfit does say 'retro gone wrong,'" Kaia pointed out, "but I guess you're not out of time, just out of taste. I can live with that."

"I'm supposed to take fashion tips from someone who makes Paris Hilton look cla.s.sy?" Harper scoffed.

Kane, whose eyes had been bouncing back and forth between the two as if he were following a heated Ping-Pong match, began to softly applaud. "Bring it on, ladies. When do we take out the mud wrestling pit?"

"Shut up, Kane," they snapped in unison.

He chuckled softly. "Okay, okay, I know when I'm not wanted." He checked his watch and stood up, collecting his books. "Besides," he gave Harper a meaningful look, "I've got to go meet someone. We're setting up a study 'date' for later. See ya."

Harper shot him a vicious, how-dare-you-leave-me-here-alone-with-her look, but he just grinned and disappeared.

"Such a studious guy all of a sudden," Kaia commented.

"Yeah, well, you know Kane, needs to win at all costs," Harper said uncomfortably. "Even if it means some hard work."

"It's going to be pretty d.a.m.n hard to win at the rate you two are going," Kaia pointed out.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Kaia laughed to herself. It would have been cute if it weren't so pathetic, this little show of ignorance and innocence. Harper was going to have to work on the poker face a bit if this whole thing was going to work.

"I think you know," Kaia said simply.

Harper sighed. "Kaia, it's a little early in the week for mind games, don't you think?"

"Look I didn't come here to fight, or play games," Kaia promised her, wishing they could just cut through the bulls.h.i.t and skip to the part where they got something done. But, as she well knew, that's not how these things worked. And the bulls.h.i.t was, in the end, half the fun. "At least, not with you."

"Then what?" Harper asked wearily.

"I know what you're up to," Kaia said, relishing the involuntary shudder that ran through Harper's body. "And I want to help."

"You know what we're up to? Are you talking in code now? What is this, a James Bond movie? What would we be 'up to'?"

"Do you really want me to spell it out for you? Adam, Beth, Operation Screw Over Your Supposed Best Friend-or, in your case, just screw him?"

Harper's face turned pale. "I don't know what you're talking about," she claimed in a strangled voice.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say. You're totally innocent, you're appalled I would even suggest it. Whatever." Kaia checked her watch. This was getting old. "Here's my point. I want to help-you two are playing out of your league, and I think you need some coaching from a pro. That's me."

"Just out of curiosity," and it was clear that Harper had plenty, "let's say Kane and I did have some unholy alliance-why would you want to help? And why would we trust you?"

"I'm helping because I'm bored, and because I hate to see a good opportunity go to waste. As for why you should trust me?" Kaia paused. It was a good question. One that deserved a reasonably honest answer. "You shouldn't. But you're going to anyway because you've got almost everything you need-will, motive, lack of scruples-but you're missing one key thing, and that's what I can supply."

"And what's that?" Harper asked skeptically.

"A plan."

CHAPTER.

5.

It was Harper's policy never to have to depend on someone. Especially not because she was desperate.

She was Harper Grace.

She didn't do desperate.

At least, not usually. Under normal circ.u.mstances she plowed through the world and everyone else got out of the way. Unless you were slow. Then you just got run over. She certainly didn't need anyone's help to do it. Of course, under normal circ.u.mstances she didn't usually betray one of her best friends for the purposes of seducing the other, but these circ.u.mstances were anything but normal, and with the fate of her love life hanging in the balance, speed was of the essence. Which meant that Harper, lacking scruples and strategy in equal amount, was desperate.

And desperate times called for desperate measures ... right?

So when Kaia stood up from the cramped library table with an ultimatum: "Meet me after school and listen to what I have to say, or forget the whole thing," Harper had nodded. Finally, and fatefully, she had decided to give Kaia a chance.

But she wasn't about to do it anywhere near the school, where someone could see them together. Kaia's Eurotrash wardrobe, frozen beauty, and outlandish public liplock with Haven High's most eligible bachelor had won her a fair amount of notoriety, but it wasn't the kind that translated into social acceptance. She had a few followers, of course, but she was too high and mighty to inspire much loyalty, and most of the initial curiosity seekers had drifted away as Harper slowly but thoroughly put out word that the new girl was not to be touched. Someone like Kaia could have easily toppled Harper's carefully constructed high school hierarchy-so Harper did what she had to do to neutralize the threat.

When Harper spoke, people listened. And if they knew what was good for them, they obeyed.

She wasn't about to waste all that hard work by meeting with Kaia in a public place and letting the world think they were suddenly bosom buddies. Harper saw her friendship as a powerful gift, and Christmas for Kaia wasn't coming anytime soon.

So she needed a place where no one-no one-would recognize her, where no one she knew would ever deign to set foot. Hence: the Cactus Cantina. A greasy Tex-Mex bar with Cheez Whiz nachos and double-shot margaritas, the Cactus was good for inducing a heart attack or drinking yourself into oblivion, but little else.

Harper was already seated (albeit gingerly-she had no interest in letting any part of her body touch the mysterious sticky patches that dotted the booth) when Kaia arrived. So she got a good look at the cover girl's face when she walked in the door. It wasn't pretty. Or, rather-this being Kaia-it was spectacularly pretty. But it was prettiness scrunched up into a grimace of horror and reticence, her whole body telegraphing a single message: Dear G.o.d, don't make me go in there. Please.

She stood in the door for a moment, half in, half out, and a shaft of light sliced into the darkness, sending up a groan of discomfort from the bowels of the bar.

"Yer in or yer out, senorita," the bartender with the fake Zapata mustache called to Kaia. She flinched at the sc.r.a.ping sound of his voice. "Make up your mind, por favor"

Harper waited and watched. It was the first test of Kaia's commitment to the cause-and, to her credit, she pa.s.sed.

"Was this really necessary?" she asked Harper, sitting down across from her.

"What?" Harper tried her best to look comfortable, though not too comfortable, as if this world were foreign but unintimidating-and especially as if she weren't planning to take a shower the moment she got out of there to wash the stench out of her hair. The goal had been to throw Kaia off balance, to make sure she was out of her element-a plan which, by all appearances, had worked like a charm. Harper would just have to deal, and keep her own squirming and scowling to a minimum.

"This place" Kaia said, waving her arms in elaboration, as if to encompa.s.s the cardboard lizards and cacti papering the walls, the tinny salsa soundtrack, and the seedy denizens all in one sweep. "Or is this just your thing?"

Harper shrugged, affecting unconcern. "You're the one who thinks Kane and I have this dirty little plan," she pointed out. "I would think you'd understand the need to be a little discreet."

"Whatever." Kaia grabbed a napkin and gingerly flicked away the mysteriously colored crumbs littering her side of the table. "I take it we're getting right down to business?"