“Excuse you.” The pitch of Paisley’s voice shot up. “Since when did you become Miss Social again? Last time I checked, you were still busy blowing off the world.”
“Christ.” I shook the pinball machine, trying to make a ball appear. “Now I see why.”
“Nobody forced you to come.” The girl’s pitch went up an octave.
“Oh god, is that why the rest of you look so glum? Are you being held here against your will? Blink twice to call for help.” I smirked as everyone stared at me dumbfounded.
In one of the corners, there was a guitar display surrounded by vinyl records. I wrapped my hand around the guitar and pulled it off of the wall brackets to examine it. An autograph was scrawled at the bottom.
“Um, can you not touch that, please?” the blond said, still hovering.
“You mean like this?” I strummed my fingers across the strings and it made an off-tune chord.
She flinched. “Yes, like that. Now can you please put it down. It’s autographed by Dolly Parton.”
I stuck out my lower lip. “But I feel so rock and roll.”
She rolled her eyes. “Stop being stupid, Cassidy. What’s gotten into you? You’re making me nervous.”
“God, have you always been so uptight?” I strummed a few more misguided notes. The room collectively sucked in air so hard you’d have thought it may cause a vortex.
The only boy that had spoken to me stood up off the arm of the couch. “Can I get you a drink, Cass? Beer? Water?”
“Cass…” I practically hissed at the name. “What are you, my waiter … or my boyfriend?” Amid a dead silent room, I laughed at my own joke.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. Reluctantly, I set the guitar down and checked the message that was waiting. Where are you? The text had been sent by Lena. Instead of responding, I pushed the button to darken the screen and stowed it back in my pocket. Cassidy wasn’t finished yet.
Something like power was rushing through my veins, filling me up and hollowing me from the inside out. The boy hovered near the couch. “Are you okay?”
I ignored him. “Doesn’t anyone do anything fun? Doesn’t anyone do anything interesting?” I threw open the doors and stepped out onto the balcony. The night was clear. I peered down at the shimmering pool below.
I studied the balustrade. It was flat on top, mounted on wooden posts.
“What are you doing?” The hostess rushed to the balcony.
I clutched a gutter running from one of the roof eaves down the side of the house and climbed onto the rail. “What does it look like I’m doing?” Slowly, I straightened my knees and stood upright. My arms went straight out for balance.
Others had crowded the balcony’s opening.
“It looks like you’re being a raving lunatic,” she huffed.
“Who are you to tell me what to do?”
“I’m your best friend, moron,” she pleaded with me.
I peered down my nose at her. “No, I mean literally. Who are you?” I let the edge in my voice slice through her.
“P-Paisley. What the hell are you talking about, Cassidy? This isn’t funny.” She looked around to her other friends for help.
I stared down at the pool, trying to calculate how deep it was. “Somebody here needs to not be a total bore.” I enjoyed the pounding of my heart in my chest. The way it knocked so hard it threatened to pull me over with the smallest puff of wind. “Who here dares me to jump?” I twisted my chin over my shoulder to several gasps.
“Cassidy … don’t jump.” Another girl’s—not the pixie blond Paisley’s—voice trembled.
My calves burned with the effort of balancing. Any second I could tip over. Adrenaline pumped by the fistful.
“Cassidy, you’re not acting like yourself,” said Paisley.
“No, that’s exactly right.” I grinned. “I’m not. That’s the entire freaking point, isn’t it? So who am I acting like?”
Paisley looked anxiously between the faces in the crowd. “Stop this, Cass. Is this some cry for help? Are you trying to prove you were sadder than me or punish me for trying to take over the Oilerettes? Forget it. You win. Just don’t splatter your brains all over my parents’ imported Italian granite, okay?” She chewed on her lip. “Look, you’ve got our attention. Now maybe you should go home. You’re making a fool out of yourself.”
“I’m making a fool out of myself? Really? Says the skinny, frigid witch. Come on. Who here dares me? Anyone?” Silence.
Another text. Feeling more confident with each passing second, I pulled my phone from my pocket to read Lena’s number across the top. Did something happen? I’m waiting. You said you’d be here.
I clicked “ignore.”
The crowd parted. The boy who’d spoken up not once but twice now threaded his way through the opening. He came so close, I half expected him to shove me over. He was tall but standing on the balustrade I was much taller. He gritted his teeth and spoke in a low tone so others couldn’t hear.
“Look, Cass, maybe the Sunshine was a mistake for you. Call it a bad trip. Or whatever. I don’t know. But you’re wigging out right now.” He leaned a couple inches forward and studied the drop into the pool. “Why don’t you go home and sleep it off. It’ll all seem better in the morning.”
I bent down closer to him. “See, that’s the thing, though. Maybe I don’t want it to be better.”
Paisley threw up her hands. “That’s it. I’m calling the cops.”
The boy whipped around. “Wait.” He ran his hands through his hair and gripped the back of his neck. “Wait, wait. Dammit. Wait. I gave her something. It’s just a stupid pill. I don’t know why she’s acting like this. But she’ll have it in her system. Don’t call the cops.”
Paisley folded her arms over her chest and shook her head. “You little sneak. You little druggie sneak.”
“This is my fault,” he said. Then he turned to me, pleading. “Cass, please, you’re going to hurt yourself.” He reached up and wrapped his fingers around my wrist. I went rigid for a split second before I pounced down from the flat rail, like something feral.
His eyes went wide as I spun him around and pressed his back to the railing. He hung, back suspended partway into open air, my forearm pressed against his Adam’s apple. “What’s your name again?” I asked.
His pupils darted in between the corners of his eyes. “Are you serious?” I pressed my forearm harder into his throat. “Liam,” he choked.
“Okay, then, Liam. If you touch me again, you’ll come away without any fingers.” He gargled as I pressed hard one more time and then released him. “Besides, this place is dead.”
I shoved my way through the group, not caring if I stepped on toes or knocked an elbow into someone’s rib. On the way out of Paisley’s house, I closed the door so hard, I heard the crash of china as it shattered on marble behind me. I felt as though my heart was separating from my chest, as though my humanity was shattering into a trillion tiny pieces lying scattered on the ground, as though I was getting stronger with every step. Taking over.
Once in my car, I jammed my foot on the accelerator. The wheels spun and the scent of burnt rubber sprung from the asphalt. I peeled away from Paisley’s house feeling like I’d burned more than my tires. I’d burned the bridges to Cassidy’s life. And soon, nothing could raise it from the ash.
FIFTEEN
Cassidy
“Cassidy, what are you doing? We’re here.” Honor unfastened her seat belt.
I blinked and my eyes felt scratchy and dry, like I’d been staring off into space. “Huh?”
She nodded and gave me a you’re crazy look. “We’re at school,” she said in a tone like I couldn’t understand English. “Aren’t you coming?”
I looked around. Outside of my windshield a typical morning at Hollow Pines High was taking place. The bright light of day burned my pupils. I squinted and fished around the side compartment for a pair of sunglasses. “When—how—?” I stammered because I had no recollection of driving here. Like at
all.
I stared out at the students filing into the school building and rifled through my memory for the last solid one I could find. As soon as I located it, my insides lurched. The duct tape. The hidden keys. The cough syrup.
It took a moment for that to all sink in. When it did, it wasn’t pretty.
“Crap,” I said, which felt like a totally inane thing to say given the circumstances. “Crap,” I repeated, lowering my forehead to the steering wheel. The horn blared.
I tried to steady my breathing while something like hysteria began to stampede around in my chest. How did I get here? What was I doing? Focus, Cassidy. Try to remember. You must have gotten up this morning. Gone through your morning routine …
Honor yanked me back by my shoulders. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “You’re embarrassing me. Scratch that, you’re embarrassing you.”
Honor squirmed in her seat and looked around to see if anyone was watching.
She leaned toward me. Her hazel eyes searched mine. “What are you freaking out about? You haven’t said a word all morning.”
Cue: another round of terror. It wasn’t the obvious kind that had me reaching for a paper bag to breathe into. That kind of terror would be far, far better. Instead, this panic was like a thousand termites hatching eggs inside my throat, multiplying and gnawing at my fleshy guts.
“I—I haven’t?” I held my hands in front of my face. Sure enough, they were trembling.
She gritted her teeth together. “You’re being weird again.” She said it with the air of a childish playground insult.
But this was real. I was losing control. I racked and racked my brain, but I didn’t even have a flash of brushing my teeth this morning or putting on my deodorant.
I looked down to study what I was wearing. I was dressed in a pair of tight black denim jeans, a fitted black tank, a dark hoodie, and lace-up boots that I bought for a Halloween costume two years ago. “What is this outfit?” I asked, pinching the tank top’s fabric off my stomach.
Honor’s mouth twisted. “I don’t know. I figured you were making, like, a statement or something.” For her part, Honor was dressed in a delicate cream cardigan and a knee-length plaid skirt.
“Of what?” I exclaimed.
She gave an exaggerated shrug as though I was missing the point entirely. “Who cares. Everybody will probably be copying your outfit by tomorrow anyway. But the tragic teen thing? That is getting a little old.”
I tilted my head back and laughed, not caring if I sounded like a catatonic lunatic. “Oh, it’s getting old, is it? I’m sorry, Honor, that my little phase”—I curled my fingers into air quotes—“isn’t quite working for you.” Honor’s face fell.
I let my foot off the brake. The car gave a little bump as it settled into park.
“I—I’m sorry,” I said. My sister looked as though she was frightened I was about to tell her that the Easter bunny didn’t exist.
The Easter bunny didn’t exist. There were no magical Homecoming nights or balloon-arch fairy tales. No matter what I did, I was losing my grip on everything that was mine.
“I just need a second to think.” I pressed two fingers to my temples and rubbed, hard.
“Cassidy, you’re scaring me.” Honor hugged her arms across her stomach.
I turned to her and put my hands on her shoulders. I took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I’m not trying to scare you. Everything’s fine. I just … felt a little faint is all.”
Honor’s forehead relaxed, ironing out the wrinkles. “Maybe you should call in sick.”
Something about her worry had shifted me into the calm one. Take charge. I could do this. “And miss the first game of the play-offs? I think not.”
She grinned. I felt a wave of guilt at the way she looked at me. Like I was a hero. The panic was now only lapping at me, surging and then receding in my veins. I felt helpless. Nothing I’d done was working. I was lost. Alone. All I could do was move forward and pray the ship didn’t sink before I got wherever it was I was going.
But I was taking on water fast.
I pinched Honor’s cheek and gave it a hard shake that left red indents where my thumb had been. She squealed in protest. Maybe, just maybe, we looked almost normal.
Outside the car, the sun microwaved my face. I lowered my head and trudged forward in my ridiculous black boots.
All this and I hadn’t even taken Sunshine last night. That was the only thing that felt true. And as proof, a round of tremors quaked through my body.
Now more than ever, I craved the flood of warmth I got when I’d first taken Sunshine. When I glanced around at all the smiling, laughing faces, it seemed like everyone else must have a secret stash. How else could they all be so darn happy?
From a few steps behind, I could hear the crunch of Honor’s shoes following me. The first bell rang as I entered through the glass doors and was sucked into the soulless hallways of Hollow Pines High.
I may have been losing my mind, but I didn’t think I was imagining the dozens of sets of eyes trained right at me. I moved; they moved. I hurried my steps.
I should be used to people watching me. I was somebody at this school, which meant that, for the rest of the student body, keeping up with my social life was practically a sporting event. But today was different.
I navigated the crowded corridors, trying to ignore the feeling that I was an animal at the zoo, trying to ignore the fact that I still couldn’t remember how I’d gotten to school.
Just go with it, I told myself, meanwhile wondering whether the cough syrup had kept me in a deep sleep last night and what I’d done with the strips of tape. Had I peeled them off? Cut through them? I couldn’t recall.
Paisley was leaning up against the locker next to mine, waiting for me. “So you’re alive,” she said.
“Morning,” I answered without making eye contact. I spun the dial on my combination lock three times until I heard a click.
“Nice try.” She pushed my locker door closed. I blinked at the wall of aluminum siding. “You caused two thousand dollars worth of damage to my mother’s wedding china. You are not getting off that easy.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Last night. Maybe staying home to study was the way to go.” My face must have gone ghostly white because she grabbed me by the elbow, turned me so that my back was to the hallway traffic, and drew me close. “What is with you?” she asked. Her breath smelled like wintergreen. “I don’t even recognize you anymore. The drugs. Your little stunt on the balcony.”
“Shit.” I pressed my hand to my forehead.
Paisley raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, now that’s more like it.”
“I—” My mouth tried to form itself around words. “I—I—last night—I was at—your house, then? I was at your house?” I pointed between us.
Paisley scrunched her nose and she let her eyes cast side to side like she was looking for someone to complain to that I was crazy. “Look, I know you’ve always kept up the reputation of a party girl, but don’t you think you’re taking it a bit too far? I mean, there’s the party train and then there’s the train wreck. Word to the wise, you, my friend, are off the tracks.”
“Shit.” She frowned. I didn’t have time to figure out what the stunt was that I’d pulled on the balcony. Or question how it was that Paisley knew about Sunshine. I had to grab tight to whatever ends I had left before I ran out of rope. “I’m sorry, Paize. It was a stupid joke,” I tried. She looked skeptical, but I pressed on anyway. “Tell your mom I take complete responsibility. I’ll pay for the damage.” How I was going to make good on that promise was a problem for future me.
Paisley’s lips parted. Then, they closed again. They opened. And then they closed. It was clear she hadn’t been expecting that response. Finally, she spoke. “Cassidy, we’re worried about you.” I rolled my eyes. Probably unconvincingly, but I rolled them anyway. “Okay, I’m worried about you. Tonight we have the play-offs and…” She hesitated. “Maybe you
should step down. Give it up. Clearly it’s too much stress on you.”
I stiffened. “Give it up to who?” I asked. “You?” Her mouth was sealed. This time she didn’t stop me when I opened my locker door. I grabbed the notebooks I needed and stuffed them in my bag. “That’s what I thought,” I said. “I told you for the last time, Paisley, I’m fine.”
One of my cheeks dimpled in a half smirk as if to say to her, Don’t know what else to tell ya.
And I didn’t. I couldn’t give up the Oilerettes because giving up the Oilerettes felt like giving up, period. And if I started giving things away, I wasn’t sure what parts of myself I’d get to keep.
* * *
I AM FINE. I am fine. I’m fine. I’m fine, I’m fine. I’mfinefinefinefinefine.
“Uh, Cass?” I jolted at a tap on my shoulder.
“What?” I snapped, and then softened when I saw Ava peering at me. Outside the locker room doors, the crowd roared for game one of the play-offs against Lamar.
“Pines, Pines, Pines, Pines,” the fans chanted. Their voices trickled into where the Oilerettes were gathered, ribbons in hair, laces tied, muscles limbered.
Ava pulled back her hand as if I’d literally tried to bite it. “Whoa, you look … totally wigged out.”
The girls turned to me expectantly, cracking knuckles, stretching hamstrings. This was it. Last night—whatever had happened—had clearly been a setback in the girls’ trust for me. But they’d given me until the Lamar game—the first night of the play-offs and the weekend-long tournament—to prove myself as captain and, true to their word, here I was, still captain. The stakes were high. It was time to put up or shut up … and get out.
The thunderous roar of feet stomping at bleachers split my aching skull. “I’m not wigged out.” I pulled my spine straighter, drawing myself up taller. My tone was brittle. “I’m focused. Big difference. And can’t say I’m loving your lackadaisical attitude.” A sickly sheen of sweat coated my forehead. I could use a dose of Sunshine right now. I was practically kicking myself for throwing it down the toilet.
Ava wrinkled her nose. She had splashes of glitter on her cheeks. “Lacksa-what-ical?”
Teen Hyde Page 13
