Robin Wasserman - Envy

“I thought so too!” Miranda crowed.

Harper smiled weakly, feeling like a sticky gob of something you peel off the bottom of your shoe. It wouldn’t be so bad, she told herself. Maybe once she spent some more time with this loser, Miranda would decide she actually liked him-maybe she’d finally forget all about Kane. When you thought about it, Harper was doing Miranda a service-Kane was a sleazebag, not good enough for her best friend. Things were bad enough now, with Miranda chasing after him so pathetically-but she’d be much, much worse off if she ever got what she wanted. Kane was bad news.

Miranda needed someone good, someone solid. Really, if she knew what Harper was up to, if she knew the whole story, she’d have to be grateful. She’d have to say thank you.

But maybe it was better not to risk it.

They arrived at the school at seven the next day, just after sunrise. The swim team, riding in a separate van, had already left, and Miranda and Harper found themselves lost amid a sea of rabid Haven High fans. It had been a long time since either of them had attended a school sporting event-now, trapped in a rowdy crowd of students waiting to get on the bus, they remembered why they’d stayed away.

“Miranda! Hey, over here!” The two girls looked over toward the sound of the voice to see a life-size foam cactus pushing through the crowd-and heading straight toward them. “Hey, I was hoping you’d be here,” the cactus-guy called, bobbing his head awkwardly-thanks to the costume, his arms were both stuck rigidly out from his body, as if in a permanent double-handed wave.

“Do we know this loser?” Harper muttered to Miranda, as the cactus approached.

Miranda just sighed.

“Hi, Greg. When you said you were coming, you didn’t mention you’d be-” She gestured to his elaborate green foam costume. It was too horrible for words.

“I’m the mascot,” he explained, a wide smile breaking out on his face. “I’m supposed to bring some cheer for the cheering section.”

“Well you certainly brought us some morning cheer,” Harper said snidely, smirking at Miranda.

Miranda just sneered back-then yelped in dismay as Greg’s thorny arm wrapped around her and pulled her toward the bus.

“Our chariot awaits, madame,” he told her gallantly. “You can help me lead the fight song.”

Harper stifled a laugh and tried her best to ignore the pleading look in Miranda’s eyes as Greg dragged her away. She knew she should probably feel guilty, but she couldn’t help it: All she felt was a rush of anticipation and excitement, and the warm certainty that everything was finally falling into place, exactly as she’d planned.

She found a seat for herself on the bus and watched out the window as they pulled out of the lot and onto the open road. The road stretched ahead of them, and Grace soon fell behind-and as the miles wore on, her heart grew lighter and lighter. It was all going to work. By the time the bus returned to Grace, late that night, everything would be different. And Harper would have everything she’d ever wanted. It felt like she’d been waiting a lifetime; but only a few hours more, and her wait would finally be over.

The pit stop was, almost literally, a pit.

It was a gas station in the middle of nowhere, a lonely gray outpost in the gray desert landscape. It looked abandoned, a wreck of a building that faded into the washed-out sepia tones of the scrub-brush covered land. But after three hours on the road, cramped together in a tiny van with nothing but drab scenery, dirty jokes, and a scratched up Outkast CD to keep them entertained, the swim team was ready for a break. And they weren’t picky.

Besides, at least there was a bathroom-unisex, and looking as if it had only recently been introduced to indoor plumbing, but semifunctional nonetheless. There was a small convenience store area by the cash register, where the coffee looked like it should have been dispensed by the ancient, rust-encrusted gas pumps, but it was coffee.

And there was even cell reception. Just in one spot, behind the semi-outhouse and a few feet from where the owner had tethered a sallow, swaybacked horse, but one spot was all Adam needed.

He couldn’t do it, couldn’t leave town without at least trying to talk things out with Beth. Or rather, he had left town, without saying a word, and it was killing him. He would go no farther.

“Hello? Beth?” he shouted when she picked up the phone, trying to make himself heard through the static.

“Adam? Is that you?”

“Beth?” He could barely hear her.

“Where are you?” she asked, her voice punctuated by static and silence. “You’re cutting in and out.”

“Beth, I wanted to apologize.” It took a great deal of effort to get the words out-since really, it was the last thing he wanted to do.

“What? You want to what?”

“I’m sorry!” he shouted.

“Did you say you can’t hear me? I can’t hear you, either.”

“Beth, I just want to…”

She interrupted, but her response was incomprehensible. There was too much static, too many moments of dead air.

“Adam, I-you, but you-if-and then Kane-”

“What? What about Kane?”

“-have to go, Adam-later?”

“Beth, wait!” he called uselessly.

Disconnected.

“Nervous?” Harper asked, hoping that her voice sounded normal and that Adam wouldn’t notice the desire throbbing beneath her carefully casual smile. They stood at the edge of the Olympic-size pool, waiting for Adam’s heat to start, and as Adam shifted his weight from one foot to the other and anxiously watched his teammates finish up the butterfly relay, Harper watched… Adam.

He was wearing nothing but tight orange briefs and an orange and black swim cap with goggles strapped around his head. His tan skin glistened, still wet from his warm-up laps. Harper’s eyes traced a path down his taut biceps, his chiseled abs, the angular curves of his muscles… His body was like a work of art.

“Not really,” he murmured, looking out at the huge crowd of screaming spectators. “It’s just a meet, just like any other.”

The lie was obvious in his face, but Harper didn’t call him on it.

“Good,” she said warmly. “Nothing to be nervous about.”

He looked past her into the distance for a moment, a wistful look crossing his face.

“I just wish…” His voice trailed off, but Harper knew what he was thinking. He wished that Beth were there. Sweet, loving Beth, his little good luck charm, always there to support him in his time of need. But she wasn’t there now, was she?

Better get used to it , she warned him silently.

“Never mind,” he said, shaking it off. “It’s going to be fine. I’m going to be fine.”

“You’re going to be great ” she corrected him-and suddenly, without fearing what he would do or think, threw her arms around him. Just a friendly hug , she told herself, pretending not to notice the warm touch of his bare skin against her body. For now . “Good luck,” she murmured.

“Thanks, Harper,” he whispered, clutching her tightly. “I’m glad you’re here.”

So was she.

Adam loved swimming. He loved the way his body sliced through the water, he loved the harsh, unforgiving rhythm of the strokes, and he loved the feel of his muscles working in concert, disconnected from his mind, from worries of speed or victory, just pushing and pushing, toward their limit. And, on good days, beyond.

But most of all, he loved the silence. When he dove off the edge and slipped beneath the water, the noise of the world dropped away. The screams and cheers of the crowd disappeared, and the universe narrowed to a single bluish tunnel of water. Nothing mattered except his body and his breathing, and forcing his limbs to cut through the water, surging ever ahead. He could shut out all the background noise of his life, shut off his mind, and just focus. Just be.