That Night

by Cecily Wolfe

  “You might want to eat a little more, those jeans look like they’re getting loose on you.”

  Cass’s surprise must have been visible, because when she stared unblinking at her mother, shocked that the woman, who was always giving her a hard time about her weight, would tell her that she needed to eat. Usually her mother would compare her to Sarah and Kayla, and their slimmer silhouettes, Sarah because of her small frame and Kayla from years of intensive soccer training, and lately, a noticeable change in her eating habits, or lack thereof.

  “It won’t do you any good to get sick, and it won’t make you feel any better about losing your friend.”

  Her mother sighed. Cass might have been mistaken, but it seemed as if her mother was actually concerned about her, and not because she was doing something that would embarrass her parents or cause trouble for them.

  “Yeah, okay. I guess I’m just not paying attention to, uh, that.”

  It was true. She hadn’t thought about eating, and hadn’t been hungry, not really, in a long time. She ate when she was supposed to, and just enough. Enough for what, she wondered, now that she was thinking about it. Sarah’s father had made sure that she ate something when she was with them, but since she had been suspended and home since Friday afternoon until yesterday morning, allowed out only to work on Saturday and then to go to the recruiter on Monday, she supposed she hadn’t eaten all that much.

  She shrugged.

  “Or maybe not. I haven’t worn a bikini in a few years, so I guess if I keep this up I could be ready for next summer.”

  Her mother almost smiled, and Cass felt a thin thread of hope spin inside her that she had elicited a positive response, annoyed with herself for caring.

  “Next summer you’ll be off on your adventure, starting a new life with more important goals that wearing a bikini well.”

  This was true, but Cass could sense a bit of wistfulness in her mother’s statement, something Cass was sure she must be imagining. Her parents would be happy to get rid of her, and if she did well in the Air Force, they could brag about her, but at least she wouldn’t be around to be unexceptional in their faces every single day.

  “I think you’ve served enough time for your punishment, especially considering . . . well, I think we’ve been too hard on you. It’s not easy, though. I just don’t know how to handle this.”

  Cass could almost feel a measure of sympathy for her mother, until she said that it wasn’t easy.

  “Think of how much harder it would be if it was someone you loved who died.”

  Her mother did turn to look at her then, her lips moving as if she was ready to spout a reprimand, but she pressed them together and shook her head.

  “If you want to go out tonight and tomorrow, aside from work, you can. I know the football game and dance are this weekend, and while you don’t usually bother with those events, I know you and the girls always go to the bonfire.”

  The girls. Now, just the one.

  Cass shook her head.

  “I don’t know. But thanks for letting me off the hook.”

  She turned away before she could run her mouth again, not wanting to press her luck. She had spent too many nights at home lately, and it was making her a little crazy. At least she and Sarah could text again, and Sarah’s news about the bonfire, discussed during school her first day back yesterday, was something to think about. The bonfire was a long-standing tradition in town, purportedly started by parents who didn’t want their children to spend the hours following the Homecoming dance in the backseats of cars or in hotel rooms the next town over.

  The dance was early in the evening, the bonfire at ten, and everyone had time to run home and change before meeting up in the field behind the school, where PTA members and other volunteers set up the fire itself, as well as picnic tables full of snacks, hot chocolate, and cider. A lot of kids looked forward to the bonfire more than the dance, as it was more relaxed, less cliquey, and carried a sleepy, comforting mood that left everyone, including those who hadn’t gone to the dance because they hadn’t been asked, feeling like a part of the crowd.

  It also made the parents happy, since their children weren’t off getting pregnant, or getting someone pregnant, or so they thought. It was a large field and there were plenty of places to hide, but Cass couldn’t imagine rolling around in all that scratchy hay and bug-infested grass. Not exactly romantic.

  The cheerleaders’ plan to offer a memorial to Kayla during the bonfire worried Cass a little, but Sarah had believed it was well-intentioned, and while Cass didn’t trust most of the popular girls, she knew that Kayla had been friends with most of them, and most of them had respected and loved her. There was no reason for these girls to do anything in bad taste in Kayla’s name, unlike Stephanie’s attempt to make Kayla look bad in order to put herself on a pedestal as the soccer team’s new leader.

  She thought about Stephanie’s fundraiser as she drove to Sarah’s to pick her up, and wondered at how she was thinking of Stephanie’s view of addiction, and her own response, even if that response was just in her head. Making Kayla look bad - that was certainly was Stephanie was trying to do, but Cass herself was playing into that, with the idea that an addict was someone who couldn’t be a good person, or a good leader.

  This whole mess went beyond the death of a single girl, of her best friend, who made one catastrophic mistake one night. Cass was smiling as Sarah opened the car door and slid into the seat beside her, knowing that Kayla would be pleased to know that she was making her think of something larger than the both of them.

  “We’re closing up the pool tomorrow. My dad says it’s late to do it, anyway, and he knows we’ve wanted to keep swimming, so he hadn’t pushed it. He started with the treatments already, so . . .”

  Cass had always been a little fascinated by all the steps it took to prepare Sarah’s pool for the winter. There were chemicals and temperature details, small things that if done incorrectly could have left the pool damaged or the water gross when they took the cover off next year. Sarah’s father focused on those details, like he did in every other situation, and Cass knew that Sarah had inherited this habit. Lately, though, she hadn’t been quite so fixated, which might have been a good thing.

  “Well, the Dairy Delite will be calling my name all day, but if you’re sure about the bonfire, I’m definitely in.”

  Sarah shifted a little in the seat, and Cass resisted asking her what was wrong. It was a stupid question now, for either of them to ask each other, and annoying when anyone else asked, even if it was well-meant. They were both tired of everything and anything that was said or done with good intentions.

  “Will you go to the football game with me tonight? I know we don’t always go, but . . .”

  Cass stopped at a red light and turned her gaze to Sarah, who looked away.

  “I know, I know. He asked me if I would go, if he minded that he asked, and I don’t mind. I don’t have to go, but . . .”

  “You want to, though, right?”

  The light changed and Cass looked forward again, as a school bus slowing down in front of her to stop and pick up a group of children at the end of a driveway.

  “I do, but, I don’t know. I don’t know how to explain it, because I don’t know what to explain. I do like him, but I don’t know how much, or in what way. This makes no sense, does it?”

  Cass laughed, and the car behind her honked its horn when the bus pulled away, the stop sign flap barely closing against the side of the yellow vehicle before the noise came in a sharp beat behind them. Sarah let her arm, resting on an elbow in the open window, fall out and offered a gesture toward the driver that her father definitely would not have approved of.

  Cass kept laughing and began to drive off, but the continued honking made her slow down as her laughter faded. Sarah turned towards her and looked back between the seats, then picked up where Cass had left off with a small bark of laughter of her own.

  “It’s Danny. I guess we’ll see how mu
ch he still wants me to go to the game after I just gave him the finger.”

  As far as pep rallies went, this one was unremarkable. Loud and marked by the usual chants and cheers, the inevitable hopefulness of success on the field that night, it made Cass want to shrink into herself. Sarah was quiet as usual, not focused on anyone in particular until she noticed a boy waving at her.

  Was he waving at Sarah or Cass? Cass couldn’t tell, but she could see that Sarah saw him, too.

  “Basketball guy, what’s his name?”

  Sarah squinted her eyes as she thought.

  “Joe? Jay? Not sure. One of Paul’s friends, probably.”

  Both of them had texted Paul from their new numbers, knowing that his mother was checking his texts for anything to report to the police and keeping their messages short and to the point. To their surprise, his mother had responded to them both, explaining that Paul was completing his therapy and would return to school on Monday, which they already knew.

  So why did his friend look so tense? He was trying to look casual, like he might just be waving a greeting, but they could see that he was intent on getting their attention.

  “Let’s go,” Sarah nudged Cass with her elbow, and they pushed around the knees and feet that blocked their path to the clear aisle at the far end of the bleachers, where they could step down along the wall and meet the boy as he stood at the doors to the gym.

  “Hey,” he nodded as he spoke and now Cass wasn’t sure if he had actually wanted to talk to them when he didn’t continue.

  “Hey,” Sarah responded, staring at him as she spoke slowly, with the edge of a question to her tone.

  “So Paul’s inpatient now, just for a few nights, and I wanted to let you know. His mom said that you guys had talked about the bonfire in texts, in case he was interested in going. But he sort of freaked out, but it was because of his meds, so they have to stabilize him.”

  His words tumbled out in a rush, as if he couldn’t stop once he started. Cass opened her mouth but he kept going, even as he saw that she was about to speak.

  “He said he was blue. Seriously, he scared the shit out of me. He said that Kayla called him a Smurf.”

  Cass looked at Sarah just as the English teacher the two of them had been talking to about the newspaper article approached them.

  “Everyone needs to be seated, as I’m sure you know. I assume there is a good reason for this conversation?”

  “Smurfs,” Sarah told her, and the three of them laughed awkwardly. The teacher nodded as if the word made complete sense, then Jay followed Cass and Sarah as they turned to sit on the empty space at the end of the aisle.

  Sarah looked down at her hands, clasped together in her lap, and whispered the word again, just as Cass’s arm came around her and Jay leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, and rested his face in his hands.

  Day Twenty-Eight

  Saturday

  Mia’s texts were frantic and then non-existent.

  I don’t want to move!

  Kayla’s parents had been talking about leaving town, presumably to protect Mia from the rumors about Kay, and while Sarah felt sorry for them, and for Mia, she wasn’t sure that protecting Mia was the only reason they wanted to leave. The drug overdose death of a child, addict or not, didn’t look good from a social standpoint, and they could move away and start over somewhere new, where no one would have to know how Kayla had died.

  Still, it would be difficult to hide, although Kay’s name wasn’t mentioned in any of the press about Devin’s case because she was a minor. It wouldn’t take much for someone to put two and two together and blow their cover, whatever that might be. Expecting Mia to lie was the worst of it, and Mia, unashamed of her sister from any standpoint, wouldn’t survive under those kind of circumstances.

  Sarah wasn’t sure what would happen if Mia was pushed, but she wasn’t all that different from Kayla, and she might find a way to deal with it that wouldn’t end well.

  Sarah raised her finger to the doorbell but the door swung open before she could touch it, revealing a tearful Mia, who jumped at Sarah and wrapped her arms around the older girl.

  “I haven’t seen you in forever!”

  Sarah couldn’t help but smile. Forever was just a few days, but she knew how it could seem longer. Kayla had been gone almost a month now, and sometimes it felt like she just spoken with her, or just tugged her hair into braids for soccer practice, while other times it felt like it had been months and she was frightened that she would forget the sound of Kay’s voice because it had been so long.

  She was worried that the school newspaper article, which was going to focus on the general problem of heroin availability and use in the area rather than Kayla’s death, would upset Kay and Mia’s parents and push them away. She was pretty sure that the advisor was going to check with Kay’s parents before going to print, even thought her name wouldn’t be used. Still, everyone would know that it was about her.

  If she hadn’t died, no one would be talking about heroin, and Nika’s family, unnamed in the article but with the details of the carelessness with which young lives in their neighborhood were treated shared, would not find a measure of justice and comfort in the attention the article would bring to their situation. Kayla’s mother stepped into the hall and offered Sarah a small smile, as if she was unsure if she was glad to see her.

  “Sarah, nice of you to stop by. I know Mia has missed seeing you.”

  Kay’s parents had always approved of their friendship, mostly because of Sarah’s father and his bank account, but Sarah wasn’t sure if Kay’s mother liked her on a personal level. She didn’t know why she wouldn’t, and maybe now she and Cass were just reminders of Kay that she would rather not have around.

  “Perhaps Mia has told you that we’re considering moving?”

  Mia clung to Sarah’s hand, and Sarah could feel the girl’s little body tremble against her.

  “Yes, she did. I just wanted to talk to her a bit, but I’m not trying to make any trouble or do anything behind your back.”

  Mrs. Hunter sighed. She looked tired, and like Mia, as if she had lost weight.

  “No, you wouldn’t. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

  “Oh, you know about tonight, don’t you?”

  Kay’s mother stopped, her back already towards the two girls, and for a moment Sarah wasn’t sure if she heard her or would respond.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She walked away then, towards the kitchen where Kay, Cass, and she had made homemade pizzas when they were younger, and stayed up late creating new and disgusting milkshake flavors with whatever candy and ice cream they could find. Where the three of them had stayed up late playing Skip Bo at the table while Kay babysat so her parents could attend some social function for his job, and Mia had fallen asleep on the sofa while they all watched Barbie movies together.

  Sarah and Cass loved Mia as if she was their own sister as well as Kay’s, and Sarah sucked in a breath against the tears that threatened to rise as she thought of losing Mia, so soon after Kayla.

  She kept Mia’s hand in hers as she walked over to that same sofa, and they sat side by side, their joined hands resting on Sarah’s knee.

  “No matter what happens, we’re still friends. The three of us, you, me, Cassidy - always. Pretty soon she and I will be leaving here, but we can always visit, and text, and in a few years you’ll be able to visit us, too.”

  Mia started to speak, but before she could, her own tears spilled down her pale cheeks and she hitched in a breath.

  “Hey,” Sarah leaned into her. “I’m right here.”

  Sarah turned her gaze towards the kitchen, where Kayla’s mother caught her eye and turned away, but not before Sarah saw that Mrs. Hunter’s face was streaked with tears that had been falling long before her daughter’s began.