“How long have you been standing there?” she asked as her friend joined her.
“Why? What you been doing?”
“No … nothing. How did you know I was here?”
“I stopped by your place. Your dad said you’d gone already. Said you were late to meet me.”
“Shit!”
“Don’t worry. I styled it out. What’s up?”
“Nothing. Just felt like getting out. You know how it is.”
Bindi nodded as if she knew exactly how it was, but she had absolutely no idea. She then said, “Why’d you pick this table?” She pushed the corner of the McDonald’s tray, now full of wrappers, boxes, and meaty debris. “You know McDonald’s is singlehandedly pushing our planet to breaking point with its agricultural practices, destroying the rain forests, forcing whole civilizations into poverty and starvation.”
“Geez, Bindi! It’s not like I ate it. I just sat here.” Cassandra even managed to keep a straight face as she lied.
“Okay, cool. You want to sit outside?”
Cassandra stood up, suppressed a meat burp and smiled at her friend. “Lead the way.”
“Are you okay today, Cass? You seem a bit – I don’t know – weird.”
The cool morning air felt simply perfect on Cassandra’s face, and they took a bench on the edge of the other tables. “No, well, it’s nothing. I just had a fight with my mom last night. I guess I’ll just buy her a gift or something. She …” She wanted to describe the way her mom had looked at her to Bindi, but she couldn’t quite get the words out. She didn’t understand it herself. The memory of her mom’s face had stayed with her, and her interior computers had been working on the analysis. All she came up with was that there was a little bit of fear in her expression, but that couldn’t be right. She wasn’t afraid of her. She also wanted to tell Bindi about her hands and how the itching had now stopped, and she felt so positive about life, but she also couldn’t quite bring herself to say this. It was ridiculous. It was absolutely absurd. What could she say? “Oh, by the way, I pulled a couple of alien tentacles from the backs of my hands last night, and they dissolved into goop on my rug. Now I feel really good.” This was a push too far, even for Bindi, and Cassandra often thought that she was the one who came from a different planet. “She’s been talking about making cupcakes,” Cassandra told Bindi instead, “so I might get her a book or a frosting set or something.”
“Nice,” Bindi answered and then Cassandra decided she did have more to tell her friend. She had been meaning to talk to her about it all week, but every time she opened her mouth to say it the words hadn’t come, which was strange because they told each other everything. Maybe she didn’t want to hear what she would say about it.
“Guess who asked me out last week after iCandy.”
“No!” Bindi screeched, breaking into theatrics. “No way!”
“Yes, way.”
“Last week? Why didn’t you tell me?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “What did you say?”
“What could I say?”
“No, I hope.”
“Why are you so against him?”
“I’m not against him. Hold on, you did say no, didn’t you? Tell me you said no.”
“I said no, but …” She paused and looked down at her hands and then remembered to cover them up. Now she knew exactly why she hadn’t spoken to Bindi about this and wondered why the hell she was bothering now. “I didn’t want to. He’s just so …”
“So, what? Cass, there’s too much history there, and we don’t know who this guy is. We shouldn’t be trusting anyone we don’t know at the moment.”
“What do you mean?”
“Don’t be a drip, Cass. I mean the attacks. He shows up in town, and girls are attacked.”
Cassandra tried to talk, but it came out as a huff. “That’s a terrible thing to say. How can you even say such a thing?”
“I’m not saying he’s the one doing it. I’m just saying we don’t know anything about him and we must be cautious at the moment. He has a violent past. Violence breeds violence.”
“So, this is all my fault?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I was his violent past. Maybe you think I did the attacks.”
“What the hell?”
“I don’t need to sit here and take this from you.”
“Cass … be reasonable. What’s got into you today?”
“Into me? I’m not the one throwing accusations around.”
“Accusations?”
Cassandra got to her feet. “Accusations. I don’t need this. I’ve got a lot going on. Tell Leo I’ll catch up with him some other time,” she said and marched away from her friend. This was the only time they had argued in their entire friendship.
The moment she walked away, she regretted it, but she couldn’t go back. The moment she walked away, she also began to see clearly again. She knew exactly what Bindi meant, and she was right. This wasn’t the time to trust someone new in town, but she was pretty certain that Braydon Taylor wasn’t capable of something as heinous as attacking women. The accusation was also illogical because Braydon was new in town and there were at least two or maybe three attackers in operation. He was charismatic, but it was a leap to imagine that he had arrived in town and managed to talk two of his new school friends into raping women with him. It just didn’t make sense and those eyes, so intense and soothing, did not belong to a man with violence at his core. As she walked down the steps leading back into the town, she could feel the aggression rising in her again at the thought of Bindi’s words, and she began to break into a trot and then a full run. Running had been the thing she could rely on throughout her life to make her feel better, and this had never been as true as in this moment. She could feel the fat and sugar of her giant breakfast falling away from her, and she could also feel the clarity that always accompanied runs and dissolved all her worries. She wasn’t dressed for a run, but she was wearing her Nike sneakers, so she could keep going as long as she needed to, and she settled in to run. She ran through the center of the town and then the thirty minutes back to her house. But every inch of her being, every activated nerve, and cell, told her that she wasn’t done yet. It wasn’t time to go home, so she ran passed her house and through the neighboring streets, and then through their neighboring streets and out into streets she had never seen before. Eventually, she reached the limits of the town, but her body wasn’t ready to stop yet. Her legs kept moving, keeping her brain free of thought, and giving her body what it needed to survive. There was simply nothing else she could do. She had to keep running. If she stopped, the world would end. It would simply implode and everyone alive would be crushed and swallowed up. If she stopped, she would catch fire. She would spontaneously combust into a glow so white and raw that it burnt the eyes of anyone who looked at her. If she stopped, her insides would claw their way outside and life as she knew it would be over. So, before she knew it, she was running beside the freeway. She wasn’t even aware of the fact until the first car horn blasted behind her. She wasn’t running on the road. She wasn’t in danger. She supposed they were simply telling her that she shouldn’t be there, but she didn’t care. The freeway was the only place for her now, and she ran for some hours beside the heavy, speeding traffic. She could imagine herself as some kind of machine, powered by a relentless engine because there was no sign of tiring or stopping. The way she felt, she could run forever. She only got off the freeway when she was craving a change of scene, and her body was starting to feel the first ill effects of car pollution. She sprinted the side of the freeway exit, into a town that she had never heard of before, and then simply kept running. Over this entire period, she took no water or solids and pushed her body hard. This new town was small, maybe even smaller than Garden City, with narrow streets and small houses through which she ran until she reached a shady-looking downtown area, with all the noises and smells she couldn’t help associating with crime. She ran even harder to pass thro
ugh the apartment blocks and graffitied streets, and then she was back on the freeway again. She passed several towns this way and the next time she exited she was somewhere far bigger and highly populated. The city. It was getting dark by this point, but her body was showing no signs of stopping. She didn’t know the exact distance from Garden City to the big city, but it had to be forty or fifty miles. She had only been here a handful of times, with the school or with her mom and dad, and she was surprised that she wasn’t more shocked at her predicament. She had run all the way here and was still running. It was a dangerous place where there was a crime on every corner (although she suspected she was told this to keep her safe and alert). Yet, she was as carefree in her run as if she were simply on the school track doing her circuits. It was only when she stopped that reality hit her.
She didn’t choose to stop. Stopping chose her. It was now dark, and she was in a long street of stores that had closed hours before. She had every intention of continuing, but her legs simply gave way and before she could stop herself she was sitting on the stairs in front of McDonald's, not even realizing the subtle irony that this is where she had been at the beginning of the day. She leaned back on her hands, and her arms struggled to take her weight. Her body had become a sack of potatoes and was getting heavier and heavier by the second. She shuffled to the side of the steps and managed to lean herself against the wall and then she knew that there would be no more voluntary movement. She was heavier than heavy now; she was welded to the steps and merging with them by the second. She was the steps. Her legs, which had constantly been moving, so light and agile for so many hours of running, were now swelling and buzzing and turning to stone. They no longer responded automatically to her will. If she wanted to move them, she had to crane them with her hands and physically shift them. Her body didn’t quite hurt, but all of the exhilaration and adrenaline had left her. All of her energy had been swallowed up, and she had nothing to replace it with – no water, no energy bars, not even a morsel of food to eat – and she was too far away from home to get herself back there. She managed to pull her floppy backpack off her shoulders and swing it around to the front of her, just to make sure there was nothing edible inside. Instead of good news, she received another blow. Her wallet wasn’t in the bag. She searched for it as frantically as her spent body would allow, but she knew she wouldn’t find it. She could picture herself slipping it onto the tray after she paid for her breakfast. She had been in such a hurry to eat that she threw herself into the burgers rather than slipping it into her bag. So now her bag was absolutely useless. She had some moisturizer and a few cosmetic items, a hairbrush, cell phone – none of this made her smile, least of all the cell phone. Ultimately, it was the gleaming coin in the bag of rusty nails, but to save herself would mean making the call and saying the words. She took it out of her bag and brushed her thumb across the screen. She had plenty of charge and signal, but neither made her smile. She slowly scrolled through her list of contacts, stopping at Bindi’s name. She was the person she really wanted to speak to right now. She hated that they had fought and she wanted to make things alright. Bindi was the one person who completely understood her. She would have given everything she owned to have her standing beside her, but she had to be practical. Cass needed help. She noticed as she navigated the screens on her phone that even her fingers weren’t responding the way they should to her thoughts; they moved slowly and without certainty. Her whole body felt slow, uncertain, and as if whatever it was that made her unique and able to function day after day was getting further and further away from her. Her thumb found her dad’s number and then she skipped downwards and found her mom. She held her thumb still, hovering above it, but couldn’t bring herself to lower it and make the call. What could she say to her? She was already so worried about her all the time, not to mention the gentle fearfulness that Cassandra was sensing. How could she call her and say she had spent the day running around the city and now couldn’t stand or move? She would think she had totally lost the plot. Maybe she would think her even more of a freak than she already did. Her arm dropped to her side with her hand still gripping the phone, and the first suggestion of tears presented itself. What options did she have? It was getting cold. The only other people in the streets looked as if they were searching for a place to sleep for the night and might wrestle her off McDonald’s steps if she stayed there much longer. She raised her arm once again and focused on her contact list. She scrolled upwards once again and found his name. He had a car, he obviously liked her. He might just be able to get her home before her 11.00 p.m. curfew. Her parents knew she would be with friends the whole day and off the streets after the town curfew. Everything might not be lost after all. Her thumb stopped at B. Braydon Taylor. She pressed the call button and waited for a reply.
Chapter Seven
“Cassandra?” Braydon said when he answered the phone as if he couldn’t quite believe it was her.
“Braydon.” All of the energy had drained from her voice.
“Are you okay?”
“Look, I need your help. I … It’s just.”
“Name it. I’m there.”
“I’m in the city, and I need a ride.”
“Has something happened?”
“It’s a long story, but I haven’t got the money to get home.”
“Who are you with?” The concern leaked from his voice.
“No one. I don’t know. I just … I need …” She was getting upset as she spoke.
“No one’s done anything to you, have they?”
“No.”
“Good. That’s good. Okay. I’m coming. Where exactly are you?”
“I’m outside a McDonald’s. There’s a Nike store opposite. I think it’s called First Street, but I don’t know for sure.”
“Okay, just hang tight. I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”
“Can you bring some water and something to eat?”
“Shit, Cassandra! What’s happened?”
“Nothing. Please, just hurry.”
Cassandra was aware of someone shaking her shoulder and then she heard her name.
“Cassandra. Can you hear me? Cassandra? Cassandra?”
She hadn’t been asleep, at least she thought she hadn’t been asleep, but now it felt as if she was being dragged from a dream. She thought she had been in her room. She was dreaming about an episode of Family Guy she had seen, and now this; she was cold and uncomfortable, she could barely move and, of all the people in the world, Braydon Taylor was crouched in front of her, looking at her as if she had just returned from the dead.
“Cassandra! Thank God! What happened? Can you hear me?”
“Braydon?”
“Drink this,” he told her and handed her a bottle of water, the moment the first drop touched her tongue she started to feel restored, and she felt the cold magic touching and healing all of her organs on the way down. She gulped and gulped until the bottle was empty. “What happened?” he repeated, but Cassandra’s priority was getting to her feet and getting home before her parents would start to worry. She tried to stand but clearly wasn’t strong enough, so Braydon slipped his arm around her and guided her onto her feet. “Okay?” he asked when they were standing together, and she nodded. They then slowly walked to his car, which had screeched up onto the sidewalk in front of her. He opened the door and lowered her into the seat then ran around to the drivers’ side and strapped himself in. He started the engine, and they were away.
“I put some snacks in the glove box,” he told her, but Cassandra didn’t have the energy to reach out, so he pulled over, grabbed a Snickers bar and a bag of chips for her and then set off again. Cassandra hadn’t thought she would be able to eat but devoured them even quicker than she had eaten the burgers and fries. Each mouthful gave her a little more strength and she was starting to feel like her old self again.
“Please, Cassandra,” Braydon pleaded, “Tell me what happened.” He looked as if he had been having a night in when she called,
dressed in sweats and lacking the manufactured urbane that she had seen at iCandy. His short hair even looked more relaxed, although there wasn’t a lot of it. He had obviously left whatever he was doing and run out to the car with no thought of vanity.
“I don’t know how I can tell you without you thinking I’m crazy.”
“I just want to know you’re okay, that no one did anything to you. Shit, what are you doing out after curfew?”
“I didn’t mean to be,” Cassandra told him.
“I’m sorry.” His voice softened. “I just didn’t know what I’d find.”
“I didn’t mean to worry you. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“No, I’m glad you did. You had enough to eat? Drink?”
“I’m good, thanks.”
“So what happened?”
“I had a fight with my mom,” Cassandra began. She had been stalling, trying to think of how she could frame the story in a way that told him as little as possible without actually lying or revealing the entire truth.
“Right.”
“I don’t know if you know that I’m a runner.”
“Right.”
“I was so upset, and when I get upset, I run. I always have done. I left home this morning, and I’ve been running all day. I had no idea I’d run so far and then my legs just gave way.”
Braydon didn’t answer for a moment and then Cassandra heard what sounded like a little chuckle.
“What? It’s not funny, Braydon.”
“I’m sorry. It is a little bit funny. I was thinking all sorts of things had happened and you’ve been running all day. What are you, Forest Gump?”
“Well, I was upset. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Ever heard of calling a friend, eating some chocolate. Maybe try running in a circle.”
This made Cassandra smile despite herself.
“Maybe we can get you a long lead and tie you to a pole in a field, and you can go round and round and round.” Although he was mocking her, his tone was kind and now full of relief. “Or a treadmill. Ever hear of a treadmill?”
Cassandra: And they all fall down Page 7
