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need to tell you that I’m sorry. I was wrong, about everything.
    Then there was a pause, and a loud, deep breath.
    I’m sure you don’t want to talk to me, but—
    Her voice shook on the word.
    I need to talk to you, to explain. Just call me back. Please. Because I—
    Another pause. And this one was the worst, because he would never know what Kaia was about to say. And because he knew the last two words would be the last, and she would never know if he accepted them.
    I’m sorry.
    The joint was burned out, and he lit another one.
    “The strong, silent type,” Sandra said, winding her finger through one of his curls. “I like.” She edged closer.
    He inhaled deeply, blew out a puff of smoke, and waited for the calm to settle over him again. There was no other escape.
    The timing was suspicious. An hour after the Adam encounter and Miranda called, suggesting— quel coincidence! —a night out at the Lost and Found to see the Blind Monkeys.Harper may have taken a hiatus from scheming, but she recognized the signs; so Miranda and Adam were teaming up to drag her out of the house and back to “normal” life? So be it. She had her own reasons for wanting to suffer through a Blind Monkeys performance; and if she ran into Adam, at least she’d be ready.
    She just wasn’t ready to face the rest of the senior class, Miranda having neglected to mention that the band was playing the official opening event for Senior Spirit Week. That meant crowds, noise, gossip, a night of public posturing . . . and no alcohol to dull the pain. At the request of Haven High, the Lost and Found had gone dry for the night, and Harper was left with few options. She and Miranda pulled two chairs up to a tiny, filthy table and set down their Cokes.
    “This sucks,” she complained, trying to make herself heard over the noise passing as music that was blasting out of a nearby speaker.
    “What?” Miranda mouthed.
    “This sucks!” Harper shouted. Miranda just shook her head, miming frustration. It was too loud for anything else. “I shouldn’t have come,” Harper said at normal volume, relishing the strange sensation of knowing no one would hear. “I hate—” She stopped, as the lyrics became clear.
    Get out of my dreams.
Get out of my head.
Will I have to stick around this hell,
When I’m the one who’s dead?
     
    It was a shit song, but she knew who’d written it, and why. She’d wanted to see him—not speak to him, of course, but just watch him. Reed Sawyer, Kaia’s . . . whatever. He was hunched over the mic, dark, shaggy hair falling across his glassy eyes, his voice coarse and throaty, scraping across the so-called melody.
    She’d seen this band play once before, she suddenly realized. Months before, she’d come here with Adam, desperately hoping he would finally make his move, ending their friendship and starting something new. She’d come with Adam—but she’d left alone. And Adam had left with Kaia. Harper had cried and raged, while Kaia had whisked Adam away to an abandoned motel, laid him back on a sunken mattress, and fulfilled his fantasies.
    Harper could still picture them together, in a dark recess of the bar, Kaia’s hands in his hair, Kaia’s tongue in his mouth. And the Blind Monkeys blasting in the background, shaking the floor as Harper stood perfectly still, trying not to scream.
    That bitch, Harper thought, before she could stop herself. Then she felt sick. I never should have come back here.
    “I have to get out of here,” she told Miranda. But Miranda only looked at her quizzically and took another sip of her soda. “I HAVE TO GO!”
    Miranda nodded and, totally misunderstanding, pointed off to the left, toward the bathrooms.
    Harper already knew where they were. It’s where Adam had gone that night. He’d stood up from their table, headed for the bathrooms—and had never come back.
    Maybe he’d had the right idea.
    She made it outside before realizing she had nowhereto go. Miranda had the car