by C. J. Hart
“Sure thing.”
He waits for me to get inside and click the deadbolt into place before taking off.
Food. I needed a massive amount of sugar after the day I’d had. I can swing by Rocky Roads—no. Won’t be the same without Eve’s comforting, yet snide, remarks. Settling on a bag of jelly babies and a container of Sarah’s gingersnap cookies, I spread my homework out on the coffee table. Switching on the TV, I scour the channels for something half decent. I want to keep my mind occupied until I have to cook dinner.
Dad clomps through the door at a little after five and goes straight to the fridge for a beer. “Hey, kiddo. Your day all right?”
I don’t know if I want to tell him how my day really was—I’m getting sick of repeating it—so I evade his question. “Mm. How was yours?”
“Fine.” Taking a swig of beer, he looks at what I have cooking on the stove. I get a feeling I’m about to get caught out when he follows up with, “Your art teacher called me about half an hour ago.”
Damn him.
“He said two boys vandalized your locker with ‘Freak Lover’ and ‘Killer’.” He watches me carefully as I turn over the chicken pieces. “Have any idea what that means?” A forced chuckle. “Or is that some kind of slang the kids are using now?”
Careful what you say, Cass. There’s a chance he already knows about Seb and me, if he has a notebook with the pack’s names in it, but I won’t be the one handing over the evidence of our relationship. “No idea. They know I was the last person to see Eve, so they’re probably spinning their lies off that. You know how whispers can spread and be altered.”
I should’ve known at the time, that denial was what drives him to seek out the truth.
“Should I talk to your headmaster?” he says.
“I’m sure it will all get sorted out.”
***
6:45 am. I brush back my hair and secure it in an elastic. 6:50. I drizzle milk over my high-fat, high-carb, teeth-rotting cereal and pour a bowl of the low-fat, cardboard stuff for Dad. 6:51. Dad makes his way downstairs, into the kitchen, and grumbles what passes as “Morning.” He plops down on his usual chair and manages to slosh milk into the muesli I’d arranged. I slide a mug of coffee across the table.
“Thanks Cass,” he mumbles, picking up the paper.
This is what our mornings are like, when he’s not gone early to save people’s lives. I don’t mind the lack of chitchat. Actually, I revel in it. Gives me a chance to think things through.
But at 7:01, someone knocks on the door.
Dad, now caffeinated, jumps up and says, “I’ll get it!”
I shake my head at him in mock shame as he heads down the hall.
Less than a minute later, Miley pops her head around the corner, followed by Xavier.
I stare at them, wary. “Guys?” It’s rare to get a visit this early from them.
“Morning, Cass.” Miles covers a yawn with a hand. “Pardon the intrusion at this ungodly hour.”
“What’s up?” I pour them both mugs of coffee.
Dad clears his bowl. “I trust no one else has gone missing?”
Miley suppresses a sob.
“Dad.” My scathing glare could melt Antarctica.
“No, sir,” Xay says, laying a soothing hand on his girlfriend’s shoulder.
Miley gulps the steaming, brown liquid. “We needed to speak with your daughter before school.”
Dad leaves us to it.
I gesture for them to take a seat. “What’s so important?”
“Obviously, as you know, word has gotten around,” she takes another sip, “that you were the last one to see Evie.”
Xay pipes up, clearly unimpressed with the situation at hand. “I’ve also heard Michael—the guy Miley says pushed you yesterday—saying he’s seen you with one of them—a, ah…”
“Skinwalker,” Miles says. “But, I mean, that’s just a legend, right? A bedtime story to scare the kiddies?”
I wish.
“Yeah, I certainly don’t believe in that crap. So what if your boyfriend has a weird eye color and is built like a wrestler?”
“Um, thanks?”
“Mike’s just being a bully. He takes the tiniest of whispers and spins them until they’re so far from the truth.”
They’re not that far from the truth.
“He took the facts about Eve’s disappearance, and stories he was undoubtedly told as a kid, and put, as one says, two and two together.” Xavier scowls.
“Well, they’re adding wrong!” I say, fury a ticking time bomb inside of me. “Guys, you know me. I would never, ever hurt her. Or you,” I flick a hand at Miley, “or anyone.”
“Yes, but you have been sort of mysterious of late—elusive—with the whole boyfriend thing.”
What have I done to deserve this scrutiny? I’ve always been the doctor’s daughter or Sheriff Spencer’s niece—free of any sort of inquiry, unrestricted. And now I have a magnifying glass hovering over me for everyone to inspect my flaws.
“We don’t doubt you, Cassie,” Miley says. “But the whispers of you being involved with them are stacking up at an alarming rate. Whatever ‘they’ are…” Her mouth puckers as she considers that. “I’m not even sure they exist.”
Xavier tugs on her arm before saying, “We’d better get going, Miles.”
“Oh, yes. We’ll leave you to finish getting ready for school.”
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I say as I walk them out.
She hugs me. “Any time.”
I return Xay’s wave and close the door. Heaving a sigh, I return to the kitchen for another caffeine jolt. I’m gonna need it today. Gone is my freedom to act without fear.
***
I’m wiping down the service counter as Liam approaches. “Hey,” I say as he stops in front of me.
“Hey.”
With no further tête-à-tête, I say, “What can I do for you, Lee?”
“Seb says to tell you that he’s taken the afternoon shift, so he won’t be able to drop by.”
My smile droops. “I guess I’ll see him tonight…” I neaten the stack of menus. “Anything else?”
“I’ll get a lime soy milkshake and a tofu burger to go.”
Since when does Liam eat soy?
“For my sister. She’s visiting.”
“Oh? How is Jess?” I jot down his order and then pass it to Harry, the cook.
“Her and her fiancé Neal are expecting their first baby.”
“Oh? Congrats, you’re gonna be an uncle!” I gently punch his arm.
“Thanks. I’ll wait over here.” He moves to the booth by the door.
He never was the overly social type. I can’t blame him. Sometimes even I feel like locking myself away for minutes, hours, days. Especially after today—more stares, mocking, and whispers. The whole school had heard about my boyfriend by midmorning.
With most of the customers vanishing to get home to their families, save for Liam, and Miley with the usual gang, I have little to do. I grab my camera from under the counter and pad over to Miles.
She grins up at me, and I quickly snatch a photo.
“Hey,” she says, “that wasn’t even my best smile! I wasn’t camera ready!”
Xavier reaches for her hand. “That’s what everyone says.”
The gang—today consisting of Miles, Xay, Marcus, and Tori—lean together for a group shot.
“Where’s Whitney?” I say as I take the photo. “How’s he holding up with Eve’s absence?”
Tori rolls her eyes. “Oh, Whitney.”
Brat. I want to slap her.
Marcus says, “He’s a bit torn up over, y’know.”
So, what, we’re not even saying her name anymore? Not mentioning our collective desperate hope they find her? Cowards.
“Order up for Liam,” Eloise says.
I jog over, wanting to catch him before he leaves. “Liam?”
He spins towards me. “Yeah?”
“Thank your mom for
me? For having me over and for looking out for Seb. He deserves a happy family life.”
He shakes his head. “He sure does, the poor bastard.”
His comment makes me wonder—how much about Seb’s life does he know? I open my mouth to ask. But someone bumps into me from behind, and I remember it’s too much of a public place.
“See you later,” he says, heading for the door.
“Sure, bye.” I turn to see who elbowed me. No one’s there.
From the kitchen, Harry says, “Phone call for Cassie.”
I take the cordless from him and sneak into the supply room. “Hello?”
“Cass,” Dad says. “Do you mind cooking for one more tonight?”
“Bringing home a date?” I clamp a hand over my mouth to silence a laugh.
He chuckles once. “Ha. No. But I am bringing home a woman.”
Color me confused. “Okay…”
“We’ll try not to be late. Hopefully by six.”
“Sure. See you then.” I hang up, and then return the handset to Harry. So much for seeing Seb tonight.
***
Feeling pressure to impress Dad’s non-date, I prepare sage-brined pork chops with a brown-sugar glaze. As I’m pouring the brine solution over the loins, the landline rings.
It’d better not be Dad adding another dinner guest. I only made enough for three. I wipe my hands on a dish towel and hold the receiver to my ear. “Hello?”
Seb’s cheery voice floats through. “Cass.”
I can almost hear the smile in his voice. “Hey, I got your message.”
“Yeah, sorry I couldn’t drop by. Kevin didn’t turn up, and I got stuck with the afternoon shift.”
I cradle the phone between my ear and shoulder. “No problem.”
“Is your Dad home?”
“Not right this very moment.” I cover the dish with plastic wrap. “But I’m expecting them in,” I glance at the clock, “about an hour and a half.”
“Them?”
“Oh, he’s bringing a guest apparently.” Though I’m excited, I roll my eyes. Dad treats me like a freakin’ housewife sometimes.
“Can I come over?”
“Sure, but be ready to make a speedy exit.”
“Always am.” He guffaws.
“How long?”
A knock on the back door makes me jump. I hold a hand to my erratic heart and slowly swivel. Seb flashes me a smile and waves.
Flipping the lock, I slide the glass door open. “Don’t do that.” I replace the phone in its cradle.
He holds out his arms. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
“You know I am.” I constrict my arms around his neck and stamp a kiss to his cheek. “But seriously, what’re you doing here?”
He shrugs. “I miss my girlfriend.”
“Yeah? I suppose I am quite miss-able,” I joke.
“Was today any better? The students didn’t come atcha with pitchforks or wooden crosses, did they?”
As if that would ward a skinwalker off, let alone a human girl.
“Same, and no. I did find out that Michael—one of the boys behind it all—got a week’s detention, regardless of scrubbing the outside of my locker clean.”
Tugging me onto his lap, he says, “That’s good then. The natives have their suspicions of us. But they don’t know shit.” He tries to smooth out the creases on my brow, unsuccessfully. “What’re you worried about?”
“You, us.”
“Star-crossed lovers,” he says. “We were doomed from the beginning, Cass.”
I shake my head, not wanting to believe it. “We’ll find a way.” There has to be a way for us to stay together, under this current inspection of our lives. I’m not letting him go. I can’t.
“Everything will be fine, Cass. You’ll see.” He rocks me as a few droplets prickle the corners of my eyes. “We’ll run if we have to—get away from this town.”
“I’ll follow you anywhere.” I hear a car pull into the driveway, clomping up the steps. They’re early. “Go!” I get off his lap and shove him towards the door.
He resists, pausing to brush his lips over mine. I melt into him for a beat, forgetting.
The sound of the lock tumbling jerks me back to the present. “Go, please.”
He slips out of the door, and I lock it after him. I watch until he vanishes into the trees before retreating to the kitchen. Scooping up his unopened soda can, I replace it in the fridge.
Be cool, Cass. Everything’s fine.
“Hello!” Dad says as he enters, sounding a little too cheery.
“In here,” I say.
A female voice I recognize drifts in. “It’s been such a long time.”
Uh-oh.
Kelley sashays in, tailed by my father. She smiles at me, her eyes—knowing and charred with reproach. “How are you?”
She knows; she must be able to sense Seb’s presence.
“Awesome.” I busy myself by cleaning up the scraps of meat and veggies. “You?”
“Good.” She takes a seat at the table.
Dad rubs his palms together. “What’s for dinner?”
“Pork chops. But I’m afraid it’s a while off.”
“Yeah, we are a bit early, eh?”
Just a tad.
He grabs himself a beer. “Wine, Kel?”
She nods, pushing a foil-covered dish across the table, her eyes trained on me. “Made you a pie.”
I perk up. Kelley’s apple pies are the best! “Thanks.” I uncover one side, and then sniff at it. The aroma of cinnamon and butter meet my nose. “Yum.”
“I’m looking forward to a fat slice for dessert.” Dad grins and hands her a glass. “I’ve just gotta check something. Back in a tic.” He marches out of the room, towards his office.
I lean against the countertop, waiting for Kelley to chew me out now that he’s gone. I’d like to know how she’s going to try and sway me this time.
She waits until Dad’s clomping around in his office, and then fixes her eyes on me again. “I know you’ve done exactly what I told you not to do.” Her nose wrinkles. “You smell like them.” She sips her wine. “Stupid girl. You’re as good as dead.”
What exactly do the Yee Naaldlooshii smell like? I straighten and fold my arms across my chest, hoping for a calm, calculated look. “Is that a threat?”
She shakes her head, saddened. “It’s predetermined. You hang with them—you die. Simple, yes?”
Nothing is ever that simple. I could tell her all about Seb and Kat, about them being the good guys, but restrain myself. The less she knows about our affiliation, the better.
“Stupid girl,” she says again, shaking her head. “What have you done, Cassandra?” She’s speaking as if to herself.
I don’t dare interrupt because I’ve spotted Kat lurking in the trees. I wave him away, hoping he sees me and Kelley doesn’t.
Dad returns with his laptop.
“No working at the dinner table, remember?” I say, mocking the countless times he’s dispensed the same line to me.
“No matter, I have to go.” She stands, grabbing her handbag.
Dad, shocked, stumbles after her. “Kel? Thought we were gonna have dinner, you know, like old times?”
“I remembered I’m meeting my sister in an hour. Sorry.” She flicks a resentful glare towards me. “Another time.”
I sense the double meaning to her words.
“I’ll walk you out.”
Dear God, Goddess—whoever is listening. Please keep my dad ignorant for just a little while longer! His life depends on it.
When he returns, his features are an odd mix of confusion and betrayal. “Did you two have a fight or something?”
I shake my head, not trusting my voice at the moment, and pull the chops out of the fridge.
“Then wha—?”
I look up. Has he seen Kat? No. His eyes are focused on a picture of us in a diner on my twelfth birthday.
“Let’s go out for dinner,” he says, unt
ying my apron. “They’ll save for tomorrow.” He nods towards the chops.
I’ve never seen him this impulsive, but I agree and sprint into my bedroom to change.
Seb
I step out of the shower, dry myself off, and secure a towel around my waist. When I enter my bedroom, Kat is sitting on my bed.
“Dude.” Instinctively, I tighten the towel.
“Liam let me in,” he says.
“Yeah? What’s wrong with the living room?”
Kat shrugs.
“What’s up?”
“You weren’t at Cassie’s, so I came here. Thought we could hang.”
“Can I put some clothes on first?”
“Go ahead.” With another shrug, Kat trudges into the hall. “I’ll meet you in the kitchen. Mrs. Adler’s baking cookies.” His eyes gleam in anticipation as he shuts the door.
When I find him, he’s stuffing his mouth with them. Sarah’s loading the dishwasher.
My nose samples the air—chocolate and vanilla. “Left some for me?”
“There’s another batch in the oven.” Sarah beams and pours two glasses of cola.
“Yeah, bro. Take a seat. There are more comin’.”
“Did you come for a sugar rush, or did you want to talk?”
“Hm. I came to chat, but this’s a better distraction.” He shoves another cookie into his mouth.
“Has something happened?” I say.
His eyes slide to Mrs. Adler, meaning can we trust her?
“It’s okay,” I say. “She knows.”
Sarah smiles and places the egg-shaped oven timer—set to five minutes—in the center of the table. “I’ll be back when that goes off.” With that, she strolls out.
I snatch the last two cookies from the plate. “Go on.”
“Alyssa told me to pass this on.” He digs around in his left pocket for a beat.
“How is she?”
“Oh, she wants to kick you in the head—her words, not mine.” He tosses me a folded square of paper. “She’s pretty furious at your dad as well.”
She should be mad at him. But with me, too? I smooth out the slip on my palm and drink in her words.
Elders are pestering all of us for info on your whereabouts. Dad’s scared he’ll be persecuted for forcing you to leave. Mom—well, she’s baking a lot. The pack hangs around day and night. I figured you would want to know these things. So, how are you, little brother? Kat says you are alive. That’s good because I plan on asking what the hell happened that day they took you. I’m sorry Gale and I weren’t there to help. Those bastards!
