by Randi Rigby
The 4 x 800 relay was the last running event for this meet, and when I took the baton from Chen, we were in a distant third place. I hated the 800m. It basically meant sprinting until your lungs and legs felt like they were going to explode. Maybe it was because I was insanely competitive—I hated to lose. Maybe it was because Mom had been pushing me hard the last few weeks. But with so much ground to make up, I dug deep until I could only think about stretching to close the space, my legs kicking into a rhythm my heart ignited. At last, I was in front, and with 200 meters left to go I knew, I knew, I had a little more in the tank. All out.
When I tore across the finish line in first place, I didn’t need to look at my split time. I knew I’d just scored a PR.
My teammates instantly swarmed me, cheering and giving me hugs. The other runners offered their congratulations. But I found myself searching the stands for Luke. Seeing his rare smile made me feel higher than a kite.
Later that night, Cal knocked on my bedroom door and asked if I was decent. Considering I was already in my pajamas and in bed with my blankets up to my chin, I assured him I was. He seemed surprised to see the lights already off. I flicked on the lamp next to my bedside and blinked in the sudden brightness. “What?” I said. “I pushed myself hard today. I’m tired.”
Stacking my pillows, I rubbed at my eyes and slid over to make room for him when it became apparent he’d come to talk. My legs felt like lead.
He sat down in the space I’d made. “Tell me the truth, Harp. Do you really like Luke?”
This felt like the same opening of the conversation we’d had when we’d gotten home from Miller’s party. Not that I could blame him. It had been a surprising night for all of us. But this time, it wasn’t the shock talking.
“Oof. What kind of question is that?” I demanded.
Cal didn’t answer. Instead, he drifted to the edge of my sleeve, and unconsciously began slowly rubbing at the hem with his long fingers. It was something he used to do a lot to comfort himself when we were little. I suddenly remembered huddling together with him through a terrifying thunderstorm once when we were six. As long as I could feel the warmth of his body next to mine and the rhythmic movement against the edge of the fabric as he rubbed at the bottom hem of my top, our world felt somehow smaller and safe. “What are you really worried about?” I asked, folding my knees up under my blankets, all thoughts of sleep now gone.
He seemed to be weighing his words. “I know you think Luke’s this big, tough guy—you’ve certainly beaten him up enough over the years. Just. Be careful with him. He hasn’t had a lot of people be there for him. I don’t want you to break his heart.”
I stared at Cal, stunned.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said. “You’re the two most important people in my life. All three of us are going to school together this fall. If this goes sideways, you know it’s going to get ugly.”
I’d heard enough. “You don’t need to worry about a thing. Promise. Luke and I are going to be just fine.” Mostly because there wasn’t a “Luke and I” to begin with—but now seemed like the perfect time to bring up a canker that was all too real. “How are things going with Jasmine?”
Cal’s eyes immediately went to that dreamy place they always went whenever her name was mentioned. Fortunately, my gag reflex wasn’t strong. I waited impatiently for him to return to earth. “She’s . . . she’s . . . ”
“Indescribable?” I hazarded a guess. Blech.
“Beautiful. Inside and out,” he sighed. “I just want to be with her all the time.”
“I bet,” I said, realizing I’d officially reached my limit for listening to this nauseating drivel. Why couldn’t my otherwise highly intelligent twin see her for what she really was? Maybe love wasn’t only blind, it also made you stupid. “Okay, shove off, you. I’m wiped. And in case you hadn’t noticed, I desperately need my beauty sleep. I’ve got a guy now.”
Cal got to his feet. “Remember what I said.”
“She’s . . . she’s . . . ?”
He turned the light off. “Night, brat.”
☆ ☽ ☆
The next day at lunch, I stopped by the administration office at school to buy prom tickets. Cal had given me Luke’s money and his and begged me to do them this favor since the baseball team had yearbook photos scheduled. I didn’t for one second believe this flimsy excuse—there were plenty of other opportunities for them to make their way down to the office between now and prom—but since this was Luke’s first dance, I felt somewhat obligated to make it as painless as possible. Erika humanely kept me company.
“Look, there she is,” Erika whispered, elbowing me in the back.
I handed over the money for the tickets. Ka didn’t have to tell me who she was; I could already smell her coming. “Hey, Jasmine,” I said, and already prepared with a smile, I turned around.
“Harper. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” She looked me up and down like my entire existence was somehow inappropriate. She wasn’t quite as sweet when the boys weren’t around. I told myself to be fair. Maybe she was just having a bad day. Or, maybe she instinctively knew I didn’t trust her.
I fanned out the tickets I’d just been given. “I’m Errand Girl. Cal owes me big time.”
“You going with Luke?” She asked.
I nodded.
“I thought you said he never dated or went to dances?”
“Did I say that?” Squirming slightly, I beamed at her. “I reformed him.”
“You’re not going?” Jasmine said to Erika, noting correctly that I held only four tickets.
“I have a college boyfriend,” Erika said in a slightly superior tone and shrugged. I kind of loved her for it.
“Too bad,” Jasmine returned. “Your senior prom only happens once. It’s a shame you couldn’t find someone to take you.” Her manicured fingertips trailed over the paperwork stacked neatly on the counter and stopped. “Oh, you have a Miss Sweet Mountain Pageant here?” She picked up an application and appeared to be searching it for details.
That sounded vaguely familiar. I seemed to remember someone in a sparkly dress and sash wearing a crown and a really strange smile sitting on top of a float in last year’s Fourth of July parade. I looked at Erika for back-up. She nodded. “I guess we do,” I said.
“I competed in a pageant once before, in San Diego.”
“Really? You should go for it then,” I said. “I mean, I don’t know the first thing about pageants, but if it’s not too late to sign up or whatever, why not?” As I was saying this, something Cal said last night tugged at the back of my brain. I bet pageants took up a lot of time. Maybe this was just the break we needed. All our problems might be solved if we could only get her interested in something else besides Cal. And Luke. I grabbed an application and quickly scanned it—the competition took place the week after prom. “Look, you still have time. Jasmine, you should do this.”
Her cheeks became flushed with excitement. “Do you really think so?”
I suddenly loved pageants. “Absolutely!”
“Would you do it with me?”
“Sure! Whoa. Wait. What?” I’d already started vigorously shaking my head.
“It would be so much fun, Harper. I mean, you wouldn’t win—no one does their first time—but it’s such a good experience. You learn a lot about yourself.”
Like, I hate doing pageants? “I really don’t think I’m pageant material. Seriously. But you, you look like you’d be great at it.”
“I am. And I could teach you everything you need to know. Please, Harper.”
Erika seemed to be thoroughly enjoying this.
“Nooo. I couldn’t. I’d be a hot mess, trust me.”
“Please?”
“Sorry,” I said firmly. Jasmine slowly returned her application to the stack. “Come on, don’t do that,” I protested.
She shrugged and even looked a little sad. “I don’t really want to do it by myself. I thought it might be something we co
uld do together. It’s okay.”
I stared at her, puzzled. Five minutes ago, I’d gotten the distinct impression she’d exceeded her Harper quota for life. Now she suddenly wanted to be besties?
“You know Harp, you do know how to walk in heels,” Erika said.
I squeezed my eyes shut tight, suddenly hating my life. Flippin chicken! This better work. “Fine.” My teeth were clenched.
“You’ll do it?” Jasmine squealed, and she started jumping up and down and hugging me.
“I guess,” I muttered darkly.
Erika just grinned.
“I’ve got a meeting with my guidance counselor right now, but as soon as I’m done, we should talk,” Jasmine said, looking at her phone. “Text me?”
We watched her walk away.
“JAM DONUTS!” Both my fists were clenched as I pulled my head into my chest and kicked at the air. Stupid prom tickets.
“Language, Harp,” Erika snickered.
“This isn’t funny.”
“Oh, it so is.”
6
Luke
Miss Sweet Mountain. It made me grin every time I thought about it. Not that I’d do it in front of Harper. I wouldn’t dare.
“I want to know what you’re doing?” Harper demanded. She had me backed up against the wall between the water fountains at the public restroom facility for our school’s outdoor athletic events. Practice for both our sports had ended, almost everyone had gone home, but the odd straggler still wandered through the venue. She was trying to keep her voice down, but somehow, that just made her sound more threatening. “Because it feels like I’m doing all the heavy lifting here.”
“Harp, I didn’t make you sign up for that pageant.”
“We needed a distraction.”
“Okay.”
“I’m letting her take. Me. Dress. Shopping. It involves fittings and me telling her for the fiftieth time, NO SPARKLES.”
“What do you want me to do?”
She thunked her forehead against my chest, suddenly defeated. “I don’t know. Something.”
It occurred to me that maybe, for the first time, Harper Adams felt overwhelmed. It tugged at my reluctant heart. “Hey. Come on, I got this.” My hands gently touched her hair. For once, it didn’t feel wrong. “I’ll take Cal over to Randall’s for some extra batting practice. He needs it. He’s got Jasmine on his brain. Coach has already been on his case.”
“Make sure you do.” She pulled away. “Because Jasmine wants you both to come with us to help pick out dresses.” She started pacing. “And Cal would totally do it. Clunkhead.” I suddenly realized she was staring at me, horrified. “Where is he now?”
I couldn’t be in two places at once.
She glared at me. “Seriously, Drake? You had one job.”
“Harper.”
“You’re fired.”
☆ ☽ ☆
That was Wednesday night. Thursday we had a game, and I knew no matter how mad Harper was at me, she’d be there for Cal. Sure enough, the minute her practice ended, she slid into the stands next to Jasmine, who had taken over wearing Cal’s away jersey with a smug smile. Our eyes connected as I made my way to the plate.
Still furious at me for leaving Cal to Jasmine’s clutches the night before and bitter about the upcoming pageant, Harper had been giving me the silent treatment all day long. The air was particularly chilly at lunch. Jasmine and Cal had been clingy, and if looks could kill, Harper would’ve ended me often and early—like somehow it was my fault her brother had hormones, and Jasmine knew a good thing when she saw it.
I braced myself again for the poisonous darts only her eyes could fire, but Harper leaned forward on the bench with a soft smile. “You got this, Luke,” she said.
I froze in my tracks.
Harper had an incredibly expressive face, mostly because she’d always been very free with her emotions. You could always tell what she was feeling—or pretending to feel—because she seemed to feel it with every atom she possessed. She might be twenty feet away, but even at that distance, Harper Adams looking at you like you were her whole world could still blow a guy’s knees out.
Move.
I swallowed hard, made my way to the plate, sat in my stance, and focused on the pitch. Those cat-green eyes. They were all I could see.
“Strike ONE.”
The memory of the dizzying smell of her hair. It filled my head.
“Strike TWO.”
Coach Samms took off his cap and wiped his forehead. I stepped away from the plate. Don’t look back at her, moron. Kicking at the dirt in front of me, I rotated the bat over my shoulder. Get your head in the game. I inhaled deeply and slowly let it out. The pitcher smirked. Stepping back in, I readied my bat and dared him to rip out another fastball. He did—it blistered through, right in my sweet spot.
I swung mightily.
And missed.
Even Harper looked confused. I shrugged as nonchalantly as I could manage and returned to the dugout. It wasn’t the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last time I’d strike out, but for some reason, this one really burned. Cal patted me on the back as I pushed past him. He’d had his own troubles at bat lately.
It took extra innings for us to finally secure the win, and it was Tucker who brought it home for us. I watched Harper give him a congratulatory hug. The poor kid looked like he’d won the lottery. “Tough game,” she finally said, turning to me.
I eyed her warily, not sure which Harper stood in front of me at the moment. She wrapped her arm around my waist and leaned in close. Apparently, the one who was still pretending to like me. “It happens,” I gruffly replied, fully aware of her scent again. I suddenly felt like I needed some air, a cold shower, and maybe a mile run.
“We should go to Toppings or Hot and Wild,” Jasmine said, tugging on Cal’s shirt but watching Harper and me.
Still smiling sweetly, Harper poked me hard in the back.
“Cal and I should really hit up Randall’s,” I obediently responded.
“Yeah. But we could do that Saturday,” Cal, always the voice of reason, replied.
“Do both!” Coach boomed, his caterpillar eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head. “In fact, after the way you two played today, I’d plan on spending every free moment I had over there. Move in.” He pointed a beefy finger at Cal. “You especially. I mean it, Adams. I’m this close to benching you.”
Beaming, Harper threw her arms around Coach Samms and hugged him tightly. She looked like she could have kissed him. “Good game, Coach!”
Jasmine only waited until he was out of earshot. “I’m thinking, Hot and Wild.”
Harper’s eyes sparked dangerously. I could literally see the moment she was ready to tear into Jasmine for not giving a rip about her brother’s baseball season—and then came the transformative pause and shift to perhaps a better tactic. “Oh, let’s leave the boys to practice. We still need to go dress shopping for gowns, remember? And I need some cute shoes. Maybe several pairs.” She linked her arm with Jasmine’s and blessed her with her sparkliest smile. “I could really use your help picking them out.”
I suddenly felt humbled. Harper was right. She’d gone all out on this—I’d been phoning it in. It was time for me to step up my game.
Cal was uncommonly quiet on the drive over to Randall’s. Normally, our silence was comfortable. Cal would realize he’d gotten all he was going to get out of me on any given subject, and he’d let it go. I didn’t know how to handle this new arrangement—the one where I had to get things rolling. I tried to remember how he did it. “So, we both sucked today,” I said.
He looked over at me from behind the steering wheel, somewhat surprised, like he’d almost forgotten I was in the car.
I tugged on my seatbelt. “Something on your mind?”
“What? No. Nothing.” He shook his head. “Just something Jasmine said,” he returned vaguely and stared out the driver’s side window.
One of the things I valued about our fr
iendship was that we knew not to ask each other questions when it was blatantly obvious we didn’t want to answer. Usually,—okay, pretty much always—that worked in my favor. But I still carried Harper-guilt. “About what?” I asked, plunging in.
“What?” He looked confused.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Really? Because you’re acting weird.”
He shook his head. He was back now. “So, prom? You ready for this?” He started giving me a rundown of the list of things I should expect Harper to want or do. The more animated he became, the more worried I grew. Cal Adams didn’t have a lot of secrets—why would he? The guy lived a practically perfect life. Keeping one now, talking about some dance instead of what was truly eating away at him, seemed to be stressing him out. He avoided eye contact. He turned on the air conditioning and kept swiping at the perspiration on his forehead and under his jawline with the back of his hand. He licked his lips a lot.
I texted Harper. Something’s wrong with Cal. Don’t ask me what. Don’t know. Just warning you.
???Where are you?
Randall’s.
Do you need me?
You still with Jasmine?
She sent me a picture of Jasmine making some sort of pouty face in a very tight, silver dress that looked like it was covered in fish scales.
I sent her the See No Evil monkey emoji with its eyes covered. Meet you back at your place later tonight.
I got an immediate thumbs up in response.
Harper’s car was already parked in its spot in the Adams’ four-car garage when we pulled in later that night. Neither Cal nor I had made good use of our batting practice. His mind was obviously on something else, and I couldn’t stop wondering what that might be. He tried to drop me off at home on our way back, but I told him Harper would take me later. It was a sign of just how distracted he was that he didn’t even question this. I’d never allowed anyone but Cal to come to my house. Ever. I had my license but no car and no insurance. I either biked or ran everywhere I went—or Cal drove me.