I ran to the bathroom upstairs, slammed the door so they’d think I was in there, then slipped into Carter’s bedroom. Not that I didn’t feel like puking because a big part of me did. Carter and I didn’t always get along, but he’s my twin, and a twin should always be there for the other one, even if there is no special mental connection. I mean, I had no idea about the time he snuck out of the house two years ago to meet up with his girlfriend, or the time he dented Mom’s van and I got blamed.
I leaned against his door, my eyes closed, practicing the breathing techniques I’d learned for times like this when I was about to explode from a self-induced panic attack.
He gently strummed his guitar. He was trying to be the cool garage band guy with his own set of groupies. He could write love songs and the girls could swoon. “So they told you?”
I nodded, rolling my eyes and putting forth my best act to convince Carter I already knew my punishment. “Yeah. Totally stinks.”
He stopped playing. “I hate to say I told you so.”
“Please. That’s not what I need right now.” I flopped down on his bed, creating a ripple effect that blew his sheets of music to the floor. I caught a glimpse of Taylor Swift lyrics. “Seriously?” I stifled a laugh. “I don’t think the girls are going to go for a guy singing Taylor Swift. You should pick something a little cooler.”
“Shut up.” He gathered up his music and shoved it into the folder. “It was free, okay?”
“Sure thing, bro.” I gave him some time so he wasn’t quite as annoyed with me. “Can you believe what they want me to do?”
He closed his guitar case. “Honestly? They surprised me. I thought they’d make you spend the summer cleaning out the garage and attic and doing random chores, but I never thought they’d…” He paused and studied me, his eyebrows lowering and he did this thing he does with his mouth when he knows he’s being played.
Uh-oh. My brother is the one person in the world I have a hard time lying to. I guess we did have a special twin connection after all, just not the kind I wanted.
“You pulled the barf routine, didn’t you?”
I played with his pillowcase fraying around the edges. “Maybe…”
My parents called from the bottom of the stairs. “Cassidy? We know you’re up there.” Then just in case I really did have to barf and they’d feel bad for not believing me, my mom said, “You feeling alright?”
They started up the stairs. I grabbed Carter’s arm. “Help!”
He yanked away, clearly annoyed that I put him in the middle of this. “You’re the one famous for getting out of scrapes, not me.”
“At least tell me what they’re going to say. I have to know.”
He shrugged. “I can’t tell you. They’d kill me.”
Mom knocked on the bathroom door. “Cassidy? You ready to come back down?”
Carter must’ve have noticed the I’m-about-to-puke look that crossed my face, or he was scared I’d actually puke into his guitar. He’ll do anything when it comes to preserving his image, and with a puke-scented guitar he wouldn’t be roping in the chicks.
“Fine.” He nodded toward the closet. I dashed into it and pulled the door shut just as Mom opened his door.
“Have you seen Cassidy?”
I should’ve accepted my fate and let my parents talk to me. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as I thought. It’s not like hiding out with my brother’s week-old socks and smelly T-shirts was helping.
Moments later, in what I consider the ultimate act of betrayal on my brother’s part, Mom opened the door and I spilled out, a cheesy grin plastered on my face. “Oh, hi.”
When Mom turned to go without even a word, just a look of complete and utter frustration, I flashed Carter a dirty glare. Then because I was ticked off, I stomped downstairs and slumped onto the couch. “Fine. I’m ready.”
I guess their well of patience had runneth out, because they stopped trying to make this sit-down experience nice and sweet.
With straight shoulders and a blank face, Dad laid it all out. No messing around. “Cassidy, we’ve given you chance after chance and you just can’t seem to get your act together. Frankly, we’re done with all your crap.” Except he didn’t use exactly that last word.
Mom gasped. She has an allergy to swear words due to her church background. Any time something close to a swear slips out in her vicinity, Mom’s face goes white and she acts all dizzy and has to fan her face. It’s kind of embarrassing, especially when out in public and she says it loud enough so the offending party hears, and the offending party happens to be your possible future boyfriend’s father. Just saying.
“It’s okay,” Dad said. “It’s the truth.” He turned all his seriousness toward me. “We’re worried about you. It’s like you don’t have any moral guide or ruler to measure your actions up against.”
Mom burst in, beaming, trying to make light of the situation like I just got invited to some amazing party or something. “You’ve been accepted to—”
“You’re not sending me out to the extreme wilderness with just a water bottle and a loaf of bread where I get in trouble for pooping behind the wrong bush, are you?” I felt it coming on, a full-blown attack. The room spun, and my breathing sounded like a freight train in my ears.
My breath whooshed out, and I ducked my head between my knees. Mom was right beside me in two seconds, lovingly stroking my back and shushing me. “No, we’d never do that. You’ve been accepted to the Adventure Program at school for the summer.”
“And you’re grounded too,” Dad added for effect.
All at once I thought about everything I’d miss. Hanging out with my friends, the pool parties, Michael. It was the summer before my senior year—and they were robbing me of the experience.
“It’ll be okay. Your father and I felt like we had no other option but now that I think about it, maybe there are other ways…”
I let out a shudder. “I’ve heard about this program. They bore you so badly they suck the creativity right from your brain. Trouble makers from other schools come. What if they leave us unguarded and one of the kids tries to escape? And he uses me for a shield as he tries to force his way out with a plastic knife? Who knows what could happen to me?”
I used my controlled breathing and gave my parents room to consider the danger they were inflicting on me.
“Dear, she does have a point. Maybe we should consider all other options first.”
I was so close to having everything I wanted that summer, except possibly cleaning out the garage. And honestly, in the heat of summer, that would truly be torture.
“Who will I leave my goldfish to if I die?”
The tension in the room skyrocketed and since my head was still between my knees, I couldn’t interpret the silent communication. Turned out I didn’t need to.
“Enough!” Dad roared. “Enough of your crap.” Again, he didn’t quite use that exact last word.
“Lord almighty, forgive him,” Mom exclaimed.
“She’s not having a panic attack. She probably never has. She’s playing you just like she always has, and you’re falling for it like always.”
“You heard her breathing. Her face is pale. She almost got sick.”
“Because she got in trouble and has to live with the consequences, that’s why.”
I lifted my head up just enough to catch a look at my dad’s face. Sure enough, it was blistering red and veins bulging everywhere. Every few seconds, I spaced out my breathing until it sounded normal. Tears were hot against my eyelashes. I lifted my head and grabbed my dad’s hands.
“Daddy, I’m sorry I disappointed you. I don’t want you to hate me. I promise I’ll never never never break another rule as long as I’m alive. I think I just need more prayer. Then I’ll be the daughter you’ve always wanted.”
His words were soft and fell over me like a light sprinkle of rain on a hot summer day. “Cassidy, you are the daughter I’ve always wanted.”
I hugged him, knowing that I’d never feel as accepted and loved as I did at that moment. I peered at him through my tears. “Then I can see my friends?”
“Unfortunately, no. Seems like the Lord would have other plans for you. The program starts the day after tomorrow.”
Chapter 3
Sleep is the best way to procrastinate, and the next day, I procrastinated all afternoon.
I awoke to the tantalizing smell of my favorite meal, grilled cheese sandwiches with tomatoes. Mom did feel guilty. I stumbled down the stairs to my entire family.
My parents must’ve thought this was a grand idea: schedule a party with extended family, so I couldn’t break them down and change their minds.
I stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring at the smiling faces of my family and friends. The forced looks of innocence like they didn’t know what was really going on.
Uncle Rudie patted his big belly like he was pregnant or possibly thinking of the twenty grilled cheese sandwiches he planned on chowing down. Aunt Lulu flicked the top of his hand as if to punish him for the subconscious act. He flashed her a look of annoyance, then smiled sweetly and murmured something to her. Aunt Lulu nodded then went back to her smug look while she studied me.
I don’t know why or how my mom can possibly be sisters with my Aunt Lulu. They’re different as night and day. Aunt Lulu is like a tornado and my mom is the quiet after the storm. For a moment—just a small, itty-bitty moment—I appreciated my mom.
Jules stood in the corner with Elena. With her blonde hair perfectly pulled back in a high ponytail, Jules looked the vision of a perfect daughter. She’d look beautiful in a brown paper sack, so it didn’t help that Aunt Lulu treated her like a show poodle.
It struck me that no one would ever guess she was my partner in crime. For some reason that idea didn’t sit well in my stomach. But a pact is a pact.
With her arms crossed, she gave me a look that said, the backyard ASAP. She whispered something to Elena—probably along the lines of “Stay here while I talk to Cassidy about her six-week long imprisonment.”
Elena lived nearby and we’d been best friends in elementary school, but over the course of growing up and middle school, we’d drifted apart. We were friends. We just didn’t share anything too personal like crushes and soul mates.
Mom whooshed into the room like a tsunami, a tray balanced delicately on her shoulder, glasses of wine already teetering precariously. She gave everyone round two.
I boldly strode across the room and plucked a glass from the tray when her back was turned. Flipping around, I banged into Dad, his eyebrows almost touching his nose. I handed him the glass. “Here, Dad. Thought you might be thirsty.”
“Thank you. What a thoughtful daughter I have.” He steered me toward the kitchen. “Soda is in the kitchen.”
“Gee, thanks.” And don’t think for one second, I didn’t notice his emphasis on the word thoughtful.
In the kitchen, Carter popped open a root beer and joked with Jasper, who fell in the category of guys I call the jerky jocks. They were beautiful and they knew it, and I tried my best not to talk to any of them even though they were in my circle of friends, kinda. My brother slurped down his soda, eyeing me.
I let my fingers run along the counter where I sit every morning with a cup of hot chocolate. It’s the best spot because the sun streams through the window, and it’s warm.
Carter leaned into me. “Instead of wasting your time mad at Mom or Dad maybe you should be eating your last meal. I heard they’re cutting sugar from your diet.” He pulled back. “Just sayin’.”
“Thanks for the tip.” As soon as he and Jasper waltzed out of the kitchen, probably thanking God above that they weren’t me, I grabbed a large fruit bowl, the kind Mom uses for special casseroles and potluck dinners. I raided the cupboards, the pantry, the fridge, and swiped a whole tray of appetizers, then with it all balanced on my arms, I kicked open the back door and sneaked into the backyard.
I settled into the lounge chair on the patio.
The screen door squeaked again. Jules slipped outside, her shimmery skirt see-through with the kitchen light behind her. Her flowing flowery tank whispered against her hips like she was some kind of goddess.
She plopped down next to me in the matching wicker rocker. “What are you eating?”
“The last supper?” I shoved the rest of a pickle into my mouth, the juice running down the sides of my chin. After that I chose the little wieners wrapped in croissants, the macaroni salad, graham crackers, and cherry tomatoes.
She wrinkled her perfect little nose, tilted at just the right angle, so it was cute instead of snout-like. I spent years in middle school wanting her nose. I tried pushing and prodding, hoping that with enough force my nose would tilt like hers. It didn’t work.
“Disgusting.” After she spoke, she became fascinated with her pink and silver nail polish starting to chip.
“Looks like it’s almost time for a new coat.” My words came out muffled due to the cold sausage and pepper pizza I was wolfing down.
She nodded. “Mom said the same thing.” She continued to pick, the flakes falling to the stone like dandruff. “Cassidy?” Her voice was all broken up. She picked harder, the paint coming off in bigger flakes.
“You must be excited for the big summer before senior year. You’ll rule the pool at the country club. Make sure to take lots of pictures. Maybe make a flat cardboard version of me and take pictures, so I can pretend.” I only stopped talking to finish off the crust and start on the fudge nut ice cream, which was starting to melt.
“You don’t have to make me feel guilty.” She lifted her face, the sun beams cascading across her cheekbones and glistening on her lip gloss. Her eyes showed true remorse.
Suddenly my appetite vanished, and I felt a little sick. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to cause you any emotional trauma.”
She jumped from the chair and paced, her tiny kitten heels clacking on the stone. “It’s not like I’m going to enjoy summer.”
I chose not to offer any words of consolation, which was what she was looking for. In fact, given the fact that I was the one attending the Adventure Program and she would be splashing about for the next six weeks, I didn’t have anything to offer. I always feel complete compassion for Jules, as I’m the only one who truly knows the pressure put on her to be perfect at all times, but at that moment I didn’t have much sympathy.
She returned to her chair and there might possibly have been the glimmer of tears in her eyes. “I’d trade places with you if I could, Cassidy.” She reached for my hands even though they were sticky with grease and juice. “I’ll never forget what you did for me. I know it should be me going away to this program too. I know I’m a coward. It kills me that no one knows the truth.”
“Well, you could tell everyone what really happened that night. That—”
Her voice rose an octave. “Don’t you think I know that? I’ve tried several times, but I can’t.”
Honestly? I didn’t blame her. Granted, I knew I’d be punished. I just didn’t expect my parents to go to such extremes. Even though I’d had plenty of chances to tell, no one would believe me unless Jules backed me up—and I couldn’t do it to her anyway. Maybe because it wasn’t her fault I left the crime scene at the wrong time. Maybe it was because she’s my best friend. Maybe because she always laughs at my jokes even when they aren’t funny.
“I’ve got it!” The spark was back in Jules’s face, the tears gone.
“What?”
“Just think about next fall and the football games and the cheerleading.”
I snorted and pickle juice came back up through my nose, stinging. “I don’t cheer, remember?”
“No, but you could give it a try.”
“No thanks.”
“Just focus on school and senior year. And then…and then, next fall in school, who knows, maybe this experience and the attention will skyrocket you up the popularity charts. No
t that you aren’t already popular because everyone loves you.” Excitement washed over her in a glow of exuberance, and I couldn’t help but feel it too.
“You’re forgetting about Ava.” Ava Abbot hates my guts ever since I beat her in the spelling bee in the sixth grade. Supposedly, if she’d won, her parents were going to buy her a home theater system for her bedroom. Instead, they bought her a new computer for second place.
Jules waved her delicate hand. “Since when do you care about what Ava thinks?”
“You’re right.” For the first time, I grabbed Jules hand. “Thanks for the encouragement, but I can handle this summer. Don’t worry about me. I’m sure we’ll spend afternoons weaving potholders while talking about our issues.”
Jules wrapped me in a big hug. She didn’t have to say anything. Deep down, I knew she was sorry and felt guilty, but it’s hard to stand up to Aunt Lulu.
“Anyway, I wouldn’t want to stain your reputation by actually going out for the cheerleading squad.”
She laughed. “You might like it once you give a try.”
“Joking.” Elena and I spent Saturdays making fun of the cheerleaders and their stupid leg kicks and cheers.
She pulled back. “Anyway, you’d never ‘stain’ my reputation. I’m lucky to have you for a cousin.”
A moment hung between us. This was the most honest we’d been in weeks. Since that night. I missed her.
Aunt Lulu’s voice floated melodically through the screen door. She was chatting with my mom. Jules put a finger to her lips to shush my chatter so we could listen.
“Well, I’ll be more than happy to take Cassandra under my wing this summer as part of her rehabilitation. We must intervene before this ridiculous behavior goes any farther. She might dye her hair or get a lip ring. Heavens!” Her voice lowered so we could barely hear. “She might become promiscuous.”
“I am so sorry,” Jules whispered, cringing.
“No thanks, Lulu. I can handle my own daughter, but I appreciate the offer.”
“Well, if you change your mind at any time, I’m a phone call away. Now it is time for us to leave. Jules! Where are you?” Her voice trilled.
Jules squeezed my hand and left.
Prom Impossible Page 2
