Лорен Кейт - The Betrayal of Natalie Hargrove

I shrugged at J.B. “Haven’t seen her.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” he said, pointing his finger at me. “I know you.”

I froze, trying to shake my head that no, he didn’t. I wasn’t anyone he knew.

A smile spread across his lips. “You’re the new girl who keeps avoiding me. Which makes you my next target.”

“You should save yourself the trouble,” I said, fumbling to pull my headset back on. “It’s not going to happen.”

“Ouch. . so harsh.” He leaned forward, almost grazing my lips with his. “I swear we knew each other in another life. You should give me another chance.”

My body tingled at his touch, but my mind recoiled at his nerve. After a few panting breaths, I forced myself to push him away.

“Never,” I spit, not letting myself make the mistake of tacking on the word again.

J.B. squinted at me then, and I hung there, terrified, after vowing how many times that I would never let myself feel trapped by a guy again.

And then what I remember most was the way his expression changed in that moment. The color drained from his face, and the side of his mouth started quivering. His eyes widened, like he was afraid, but then just as quickly, they narrowed into slits. He said nothing, just barged back out the attic door with awkward lurching steps that I’d chalked up to too much testosterone.

Now, three years later, alone in the attic again, I shivered. I’d been too consumed by my own fear that day to see what was behind his hasty exit. J.B. must have needed his meds, even back then. He must have been swallowing down those Trileptal as soon as he was out of eyeshot, while I struggled in my own way to compose myself over the control panel.

I yanked open the file cabinet. I had to stop letting him haunt me. I was going to make it through tomorrow night. And it wouldn’t be a good start to get busted lurking around the A/V room. Rifling through the file folders, I found Ari’s materials for tomorrow night. Inside the green tabbed folder were playlists for slow songs, playlists for fast songs, scripts for the faculty speakers. And our “Path to Palmetto” DVD.

This was no time for sentimental flip-flopping. I couldn’t think about the opening shot of the two of us walking arm in arm on Capers Beach. I swapped the CDs, slipped the original in my backpack, and headed for the door.

The bell for second period was about to ring, and I could still make it into my English class without incident. Tumbling back out into the brightness of the hallway, I turned the corner and nearly had a heart attack when I ran smack into Kate.

“What are you doing here?” I blurted.

“It’s called a hall pass.” She waved the laminated card in my face. “What’s your excuse?” Her eyes narrowed at me. “Why so on edge, Princess?”

There was a new iciness in her voice that I didn’t like the sound of. Had she seen me come out of the A/V room?

“Love your Jessamine.” I changed the subject swiftly, tugging on a particularly garish purple bell attached to her flower. “Did Baxter get it for you?”

“Mmm. . more or less,” she stuttered. “He was able to call in the order absentee. I went to pick it up from the Duke last night—” She broke off, then looked up at me coolly. “You know what, I don’t need to justify this to you. You’ve made it more than clear what you think of him.”

I looked at the pride with which she wore that kitschy Jessamine and sighed. Mike and I had enough on our hands, what with taking the throne and taking down Baxter and O.P. We could not afford to have Kate cross over to the other side, too.

“Kate,” I cooed, cupping her cheek, “can’t you see, all I want is for you to be happy? And. . if a long-distance rehab relationship spells happiness for you. . well, who am I to judge?” I smiled, squeezing her shoulder in good-bye. “See you tomorrow night.”

“May I present,” Jenny read from her prompt into the microphone in front of the whole student body, “the Prince and Princess of Palmetto — Mike King and Natalie Hargrove!”

It was three hours later, and I was made-up and poured into my long plum-colored gown, standing hand in hand with Mike behind the curtain separating us from our subjects. Both of us wore our glittering crowns. I could feel the energy of the whole school on the other side of the curtain. When it rose, the crowd would roar, and Mike would escort me down the stage for our private waltz, the kick-off dance of the party. I couldn’t wait to get out there.

I knew my Jessamine sat in a glass cage under a spotlight on the stage so the rest of the school could come up and admire it more closely. I also knew that in a video projector at the back of the room, the very surprising DVD lay waiting for its premiere.

“You ready, baby?” Mike squeezed my hand.

“I’ve been ready for so long,” I said.

A drum roll rose up from the orchestra pit, and the glittering purple curtain rose up in front of us. Mike and I blinked into the bright lights shining down on us. I held my breath. The gym was packed with everyone we knew, transformed into the best-looking versions of themselves. Thick drapes of pearls covered the ceiling, giving the whole place the feel of an opalescent tent. The music for the classic Palmetto waltz began, and Mike turned to me and grinned.

“May I have this dance?” he asked.

We’d gone over the routine a hundred times before — in Mike’s bedroom, in the halls at school, under the bleachers as foreplay. But when we started dancing, I realized that we hadn’t practiced once since everything happened with J.B. For a moment, both of us seemed to remember this at the same time, and we looked at each other a little bit terrified. But then, amazingly, the steps came right back to us both, as naturally as if we’d been rehearsing around the clock all week. The lights were so bright I couldn’t see anyone in the crowd, but I could imagine all of their faces, upturned and smiling at our first dance.

“Let’s hear it for the royal couple,” Jenny emceed when the song came to a close. The applause was loud and passionate. “Now, I invite you all to come out to the dance floor and get on down. ”

Mike swung me around in one final lift and dipped me back for a kiss.

“Drinks?” he said.

“Drinks.”

We scooted to the back of the room where the massive bowls of virgin lunch-lady-made punch were being customarily spiked by Rex Freeman’s team of JV protégés.

“This is quite an operation, Rex,” I laughed.

He shrugged. His flushed face was as red as his hair. “I can’t do all the work myself,” he said. “How about two royally strong ones for the Prince and Princess?” he called to his workers.

The drinks were delivered, and Mike and I sat on a tall booth looking out at the party spinning before us. Everyone looked incredible — big hair and bold colors for the girls. The guys wore classy tuxes with handkerchiefs matching the color of their dates’ dresses.

“We needed this, didn’t we?” Rex said, with a rare tone of sincerity in his voice. “I mean, after the week we’ve all had, we all needed to just let loose.”

Mike and I looked at each other and nodded.

Rex clapped us both on the shoulder. “It’s you guys who are making things right again. Another Prince and Princess might have lost it. You two kept everyone strong this week.”

“Thanks, man,” Mike said, putting his hand over Rex’s, but keeping his eyes on me. Rex looked down and shuffled his feet. When he looked back up, he’d lost his serious look and had his usual lecherous gleam in his eyes.

“Well, I feel like a pud now,” he said. “I’m going to go get in touch with myself again by breaking off a piece of that Bambi over there.”