The Betrayal of Natalie Hargrove

by Lauren Kate

  Since Mike and I had more footage of the two of us over the past three years than probably any other couple, everyone was expecting our film to be of Oscar-worthy caliber. We'd finished editing it way before Palmetto had even announced the winners, so all that was left to do was turn it in to the Anger, resident dance technician, who vetted it through the fishbowl to make sure it was PG enough for the dance. I loved our movie almost as much as I loved wearing the crown.

  So it gave me a sizable pang of sadness to think about pulling our tape from the deck. But when I saw the intrigued look on Mike's face, I knew it would be worth the sacrifice.

  "You're going to rig the 'Path to Palmetto' segment at the Ball to play an Officer Parker sex tape?" He laughed, incredulous. "You really want to do that? But you love our movie."

  "I also love the idea of blackmail for the blackmailer," I said.

  "Well, that would do the trick."

  I smiled. "He'll be lamer than a Carolina duck in hunting season."

  Mike ran his hand through my hair. It felt so good I closed my eyes and just basked in the simple comfort of the moment. But when I opened them, his brow was furrowed yet again.

  "What?" I asked, sitting up and taking his hand. "What's going on with that look?"

  Mike kissed my hand, but his eyes still looked worried. "I'm glad you figured something out about O.P. I mean, I could kill that guy. But there's something I have to tell you."

  I nodded.

  "I have some news about Baxter," he said.

  "He's in rehab," I said without looking up. "I know that."

  "Yeah, well, not for long." Mike sighed. "He's on his way back, just in time for the Ball on Friday."

  A rush of humid water from the fall seemed to choke me. I dropped the brownie in my hand.

  "How did you hear about this?" I demanded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  "I'm telling you now." Mike sounded defensive. "I got a letter from him today. He says he knows what we're up to, Nat. I don't think he's going to let us get away with it."

  "But . . . what happened was an accident," I stammered. "It wasn't our fault!"

  "I know that," Mike agreed. "But what's happened since J.B., all this plotting . . ." He trailed off. "You do realize we're framing someone with murder?"

  "Of course, I realize it. I've spent every waking minute consumed by it. But what other choice do we have? It's going to end up being Baxter's word against ours. Who do you think the school's going to believe?"

  Mike stepped away. He was rubbing his forehead again.

  "I think we're in over our heads." He bit his lip. "The letter came through Kate. I think she's got his back."

  I narrowed my eyes. This was an unwanted twist. Under normal circumstances, I might have pulled Kate aside to school her on the perils of expecting too much from a guy like Baxter. I might have suggested she just cut her losses and move on. But Kate had crossed me twice now in the wrong week, when Mike and I didn't have the time or energy to look out for anyone's best interests other than our own.

  "Kate is nothing more than a childish slut with too much money, and Baxter is a junkie," I huffed finally. "I guarantee you as soon as she gets distracted by another guy, she'll have no problem abandoning her post. It's not like she's getting any conjugal visits while Baxter's under house arrest."

  "Okay," Mike said, "so . . ."

  "So that's it." I smirked. "You get one of your linebacker friends to hit on her at the Ball. Make sure he takes her home. I guarantee, it will be like Baxter Quinn never even existed."

  Mike nodded, but he was starting to look confused again.

  "Hey." I cupped his chin. "Remember a short while ago when you loved my single-minded masterfulness?"

  He gave a sad little laugh. "I do," he said.

  "It's still me, baby. We're still in this together. I just want to stand up there next to you and wear that crown. I know you want it, too."

  "I don't know," he said. His words came fast and sounded nervous. "It's like, I want to reach out and touch you, to make you feel better, to make myself feel better. That's all I know how to do." He shook his head. "But recently, I feel like I don't know anything. I love you and I'm trying, but I don't know who you are."

  It was only then that I realized how disconnected Mike and I really were. We'd never had to try before. There'd never been a need to reconnect because we were always just together. Our friends even called us John and Yoko, teasing us because wherever one of us was, you could always find the other.

  I reached for his belt buckle. Maybe it was a reflex. It was all I could think of to keep us together, even though part of me knew it was wrong.

  "No," he said, flicking my hand away.

  I looked down at my hand as if I'd just been stung. I felt my face fall. Mike had just swatted me away. He didn't mean it. He couldn't.

  I sat down next to him on the rock and pulled his lips to mine. He kissed back, but something about it was like a reflex more than a desire.

  This was so frustrating. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed harder, slipping my tongue between his teeth. I waited for the pull on my bottom lip that always told me he was really into it . . . but it never came.

  After a minute, he pushed me back. My heart raced, panicked.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I just can't pretend like everything is okay. I can't push what we did out of my mind."

  I sat mortified on the rock, with no part of my body touching Mike's. I felt like he'd slapped me in the face. A light breeze picked up, and I suddenly realized my face was damp. Tears were streaking down my cheeks.

  "Natalie," he whispered, clearly pained--which just made it worse. I felt myself breaking, ever so slightly. Something inside me was snapping. And he still kept his hands in his lap, not touching me. "Don't." His voice broke and I began crying in earnest.

  "I can't help it," I said, soaking my shirtsleeves with my tears. "I can't. . . . I just can't do this alone."

  At last, he turned to me and tucked my hair behind my ear. He kissed my eyelids, getting his lips wet with my tears.

  "You're not alone," he said. "I'm in this with you. You know I am." I tried to take a deep breath, but it had been so long since I had really cried that now I felt like I couldn't control it. I was so tired. So, so tired.

  He brushed my hair back again with his strong hands and finally showed me the smile I hadn't realized I'd been craving all week. "Here," he said, "I have something for you."

  "You do?"

  I wiped my eyes while Mike reached behind him and pulled out a large white box.

  "I know you've been waiting for this," he said, handing it to me.

  When I opened it, I gasped. I had completely forgotten that tomorrow was Jessamine Day. I'd been waiting four years to get the all-white senior privilege flower, instead of the gaudy, colored underclassmen one. And this Jessamine was perfect. My eyes stung as fresh tears threatened--in all of this awful mess, Mike had still remembered. He still loved me. I wasn't alone.

  And the Jessamine. It was gorgeous.

  It was big enough to make an impression but completely tasteful in its design. I held it up to my heart, where I'd wear it pinned to my overalls to school tomorrow. The centerpiece was a crown with an opal at its center.

  "I had to have it specially ordered," Mike said. "The Dick had to call three factories to find that there crown. It's the only one in the state. But I knew what I wanted," he said. "And I got it."

  "It's perfect. It's royal," I said, slipping my tongue in his mouth. This time he kissed me back softly.

  "Is it too heavy for you?" he asked when we pulled away for breath.

  I pressed my mouth against his again, glad to feel his tug on my lower lip.

  "With your help bearing the load," I said, "I think I can manage."

  CHAPTER Sixteen

  THESE SERPENT UNDER THE FLOWER

  "H"ave you seen what the Double D is wearing on her veralls today?" Jenny asked the next morning by my locker. overalls today?" J
enny asked the next morning by my

  I snorted, adjusting my Jessamine to hang at a perfectly straight angle. "I didn't think she'd show. How'd she get a date?"

  "Au contraire," Amy Jane said. Her own Jessamine was gaudy and glittering. It lit up like a Christmas tree when you pressed a button at its center. I would never wear anything close to it, but somehow Amy pulled it off. She lowered her voice and leaned in. "The D.D. is dateless. Her daddy made a Jessamine for her out of pity."

  "Of course he did," said Jenny, whose Jessamine was totally old-school and tasteful, its centerpiece a rare real flower. Jenny cleared her throat and nodded at my own Jessamine. "I'm sure that's how she got a crown as her centerpiece, too."

  "What?" I gasped. "Mike said mine was the only one in the state."

  Amy Jane grimaced and took out some cooling cucumber facial mist from her bag. "Uh uh uh," she coaxed. "No stressing today. You cannot get all puffy-faced before your big night tomorrow."

  "I'm the Princess. Double D is hardly a groundling." I could feel my breath quicken, and I held on to the base of my locker for balance. Usually something like this wouldn't unnerve me so much.

  "She's flipping," Jenny said. "Nat, you must stay calm. Darla's mum is tacky and looks nothing like yours--"

  "Except for the crown," Amy Jane said automatically.

  Both Jenny and I shot her a look. She shrugged.

  "Sorry," she said. "Jenny's right--Double D's flower is school colors. Utterly tacky. Anyway, she won't even be at the dance tonight--it's not like she can get away with bringing Daddy as her date."

  "Whereas you, Princess Nat," Jenny picked up, "will be the belle of the Ball"--she looked at her watch--"in less than twenty-seven hours. At least if I have anything to do with it." She clapped her hands and opened her PDA. "Now we're all meeting tomorrow at four o'clock with garment bags and cosmetics, yes?" Amy Jane and I nodded. "The Bambies are coming to help--don't groan, you know they're good at the grunt work--"

  "At least that's what the football team says. . . ."

  Jenny rolled her eyes at Amy Jane. "Nat, you gave Ari Ang the DVD of your 'Path to Palmetto' story?"

  "Of course," I said, my heart fluttering briefly about the alternate DVD I had tucked in my backpack and what I was about to undo. Slutsky had come in handy after all. Once I'd called her out on the pills she'd picked out of my purse, she'd been more than happy to "lend" me a naughty tape of her and Officer Parker for sex education purposes only, of course.

  "Oooh, I can't wait," Jenny squealed. "I bet it's the best 'Path to Palmetto' this school has ever seen."

  I beamed at her and nodded. It was certainly going to be memorable. And more importantly, after tomorrow night, Officer Parker wouldn't be giving me any more problems. Now all I had to do was find a minute today to sneak into Ari Ang's projector room and swap the tapes.

  The bell rang, and the girls and I exchanged hugs.

  "Happy Jessamine Day," we called on our way to class.

  En route to French, I knew I'd find Mike by his locker. I snuck up behind him and covered his eyes with my hands. He jumped and turned around, then tried to recover and look relaxed when he saw that it was me.

  "Sorry," he said. "Don't know why that scared me." He looked down at the Jessamine, and his old grin spread across his face. "Hey . . . nice bud. I've been listening to people sing the praises of that Jessamine all day. Now I see why. You wear it so well."

  He swooped me up, smashing the Jessamine a little in the process, but I didn't even care. I sucked playfully on his neck and purred.

  "I'm so glad things are back to perfect with us," I said.

  "Hate to interrupt," a voice called from behind us. We broke our embrace to find Officer Parker, with his eyebrows raised and his hands on his hips. "But I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to keep it clean in the hallway." He shook his head at me. "And I thought you might have learned a lesson from our conversation last week. Maybe you're just too much of a little sl--"

  "You shut your mouth." Mike's fist was clenched, and I knew it was on its way around Officer Parker's collar.

  "Mike," I jumped in, pushing them apart. "Stop it," I gasped. "He's right. Let's just go to class."

  I hauled him toward our last class, and we left O.P. fuming in the hallway.

  "Don't worry, baby." I grabbed Mike's hand. "He won't be on our backs for long."

  But instead of heading to my French class, I dropped Mike off at his history class and waited until the halls were clear. Then I slipped into the A/V room with the DVD burning in my bag.

  The windowless studio was dark and cold, and I bumped into more than a few rolling TV stands before I found a desk lamp. I'd only taken one media class at Palmetto, my first semester here, but from the looks of the same rickety tape reels, torn projector screen, and mystifying PA system, you'd think not much had changed in the world of technology over the past three years. I waded past the dated electronics toward the attic, an alcove jutting over the back of the gymnasium. Tomorrow night, Ari Ang would emcee the dance from here.

  The Anger was nothing if not organized, so it shouldn't be too difficult to find his neatly labeled multimedia binder for the Ball. I'd already labeled my replacement DVD with the same Mike 'n' Nat sticker that decorated the real "Path to Palmetto" DVD, so everything was ready to go.

  I pulled open the thick soundproof door to the attic and stepped in. The room was a myriad of knobs and blinking lights that I would never understand, but it did have one of the best aerial views in the school. The tinted window above the main control panel overlooked the gym, which overlooked the football field, where we'd all had so many good memories.

  But when I leaned up against the glass to look out, I was struck by one specific memory, the kind of memory I was least expecting.

  I'd spent the bulk of first semester freshman year working on my final project for Media 101, a documentary on the town of Charleston. I remember being surprised to find myself so into it--maybe all those hours cutting footage in the A/V room were an excuse to be away from Mom and her sugar daddy du jour. But in the end, I remember being really proud of it. I was watching the final cut after school one day in the alcove when Justin Balmer barged in unannounced.

  I'd had the soundproof headphones on, so I didn't hear anything until he tapped me on the shoulder. I'd spun around so fast I knocked them off.

  "Whoops," he sounded surprised. "I was looking for Amber. Sorry."

  Amber Lochlan was a cool older girl in my media class, who went on to be that year's Palmetto Princess. She had the same short dark hair as I did, so maybe we could have passed for each other from behind. But I liked to think my hair was not as susceptible to humidity as Amber's.

  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.