I woke up the next morning – scratch that – afternoon with a pounding headache and a growling stomach. It had been God knows how many hours since I last ate anything.
“Holy crap,” I moaned, pushing myself up and struggling to get to my feet. I hadn't moved a freaking inch from where I'd fallen last night. I swear, I could see the indent of my body in the mattress. If I hadn't known any better, I would've sworn I was suffering from a major hangover.
I managed to traverse the five steps between my bed and the chair at my vanity before plopping into with a groan. I dragged my phone across the surface of the table and dialed Heidi's mom. She didn't answer, so I left a message and then texted Heidi, just in case. I figured no news was good news and tried not to dwell on it. She had a broken arm, some stitches in her mouth, and a handful of nasty bruises. She was going to be alright.
“But my breath sure as heck isn't,” I moaned, standing up and stumbling into the bathroom. I was glad nobody was around to see because frankly, it smelled like something had died in there.
I stripped down, showered, and brushed my teeth at least a half dozen times before emerging from the basement dressed in a pair of blue jeans and a white and green striped tank top. My make-up was perfect, my hair was soft and flowing, and I had on my best jewelry.
Today is going to be a good day.
I wondered if that whole positive mantra stuff was really true. If I said it enough, would it happen that way?
“Heidi's mother called,” my mom said, sipping a cup of coffee in the kitchen. She was staring at me, trying to gauge my emotional response. I gave her a straight face. I didn't want to spend the whole day being treated to my mom's special psycho-therapy. “She's on her way home. Mrs. Moreau thinks it's best if she spends the rest of the day relaxing, but she's asked if you wouldn't mind stopping by tomorrow for breakfast.” I nodded and tried to think of an appropriate response, but my mother wasn't finished. “And today, I'm going to be making a visit to the mayor himself to talk about that intersection.”
“Mom,” I groaned, but she cut me off, setting her coffee cup down hard.
“Heidi could've been killed. You could've been injured or killed. There needs to be a stop sign there and a new set of street lights.”
“Mom's got a new goal,” Kaitlyn said, traipsing into the kitchen dressed in a bathing suit and a colorful wrap. She pretended to shoot a basket and then gave herself a congratulatory fist pump. “And don't try to talk her out of it. Once you set your sights on something, you should never close your eyes.” That was one of my mother's favorite sayings. I wasn't a big fan of it. Usually it meant she was going to do something to make our lives' harder. I guessed considering the circumstances, watching her take her rage out on the intersection was the best possible scenario.
I sighed and then did a double take at the clock over the stove.
“Four o'clock?” I said, wondering how I'd missed that before when I was on the phone. “It's four o'clock in the afternoon?”
“Enjoy that while you still have it, kid,” my dad said, slipping in the front door with a briefcase in hand. “When you get to be my age, you dream of the good old days when you could go to bed with the rising sun and sleep till it got dark again.” My mother rolled her eyes. “Just stopping in for a second,” he said as he helped himself to a sip of my mom's coffee. “Anywhere you kids need to be? I could drop you off.”
“My friends are picking me up,” Kaitlyn said, raising her brows at me. “We're going to Sea Ridge.”
“Be careful out there,” my mom interjected. “There are riptides all over that place. It isn't safe.” I swallowed hard and tried to keep my mind clear. Some things are better left unsaid when it comes to my mother. Kaitlyn nodded, but she was hardly listening.
A knock at the door drew everyone's attention.
My mother rolled her eyes.
“If it's another boy, I swear to God,” she began, striding to the door with purpose. When she wrenched it open, I saw that it wasn't just another boy. It was Casper.
“Hey!” I called out before she could slam the door in his face. He smiled, but he didn't take his eyes off my mother. Smart choice. I moved up behind her, putting my hand on the wall next to the door.
“You know this person?” my mom asked, and I cringed. I could tell she didn't like Casper's holey jeans or his red band T-shirt. The word Indecency was scrawled above a weird cartoon image of a goat's head with a lolling tongue and X's for eyes. I wondered what their music was like. Personally, I was a fan of the outfit because I had a clear view of Casper's tattoo. I guess seeing that image right before I drowned had turned it into some kind of symbol for me, but whenever I caught a glimpse of it, I couldn't help but smile.
“This is Casper Alice,” I told my mother, trying to surreptitiously get her to move aside, so Casper could come in. “He sat at the hospital with me last night, remember? He was there when you picked me up?” My mom stood there for a moment and then gave him a tight-lipped smile. It was the best he was going to get. I doubted even Cage could pull a real grin from her. I think my dad was the only person I knew that was capable of that.
“I don't want to intrude or anything,” he began, but I was already grabbing his wrist and pulling him forward. When the rough skin on my fingertips met the smooth flesh of his arm, it was like striking a match to tinder. I went up in flames and found myself backing away. Sweat was already soaking into the armpits of my clean shirt. Instead of shying away from it, or blushing, or mumbling excuses at each other, I released his wrist slowly and we both smiled.
“Are you here to crush on the Crush?” Kaitlyn asked, giving Casper a weird head bob that I'm certain she didn't learn from me. “Because I don't know if you'll make the cut. Cage was here yesterday and the day before that.”
“Kaitlyn,” I snapped, shooing her back towards the kitchen. “Go away.” She rolled her eyes, waited until Mom and Dad weren't looking, and then flipped me off. The brat.
“Do you want to come downstairs?” I asked him, gesturing at my room. He shrugged nonchalantly and cast a look over at my father. He was too busy reading business emails on his iPad to pay any attention. And my mom was too busy pretending that she didn't want to interfere with Assignment business. She was folding and refolding a paper napkin on the counter.
I started down the stairs and Casper followed, leaving the door cracked behind him. Kaitlyn would be over here peeping soon anyway, and I had a feeling my parents' feigned ignorance might not extend to a locked door. Maybe it would, but I liked to pretend they might actually burst in and try to lecture me.
“Wow,” Casper said, whistling as he hit the bottom step and moved into my bedroom. Having him here made me feel … strange. Vulnerable, in a way. My dreams were plastered across the wall for him to see. That, plus we were together in a tight space, with a bed, full of hormones and this raging spark that flickered every time we touched. I wasn't about to jump into bed and offer my virginity up to him just because of that, but the fantasy was there and I wasn't going to lie to myself about it. Honesty is important when dealing with other people, but it's even more important when dealing with yourself. “This is pretty awesome. Not what I expected, but I like it.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and watched his gaze move over the pictures on the wall.
“What did you expect?” he grinned and I noticed that he was wearing the piercing in the center of his lip today. I wondered what it would feel like to kiss him with it in. Could I taste the metal inside his lip? Would it feel good against my chin? I grinned back at him.
“I don't know, maybe some posters of Einstein or something. A few stuffed animals.” Casper glanced around the room like he was shocked. “But I don't see a single one. Bravo.” I laughed as he stepped up to my wall and ran his fingers across one of the castle pictures.
“Einstein posters and stuffed toys, huh?” He shrugged but didn't look at me.
“You're so … ” Casper licked his lips. “Preppy. I didn't kno
w what I was going to find. I haven't hung out with a lot of people like you, Chloe.” He'd called me preppy, sure, but the rest of what he said made my heart feel full, like it was going to burst out of my chest at any moment. Wouldn't that have been a sight to see.
“I'm not preppy,” I protested, but he just smiled. “Besides, I heard your last girlfriend tried to steal a car or something. Even if I was preppy – which I'm not – this is kind of an improvement, isn't it?”
“Are you saying you want to be my girlfriend?” he asked, and I just shrugged back at him. He laughed and turned back around, tucking his hands in his pockets. “My ex-girlfriend had fake blood splatters on her walls, a notebook full of dark poetry, and a cat named Death. She was interesting, but not particularly nice.” I nodded, trying to imagine the girl in my head. We didn't have anyone like that in San Aplastar. I hope Casper wasn't disappointed. “So, how's your friend? She still okay?”
“She's coming home from the hospital today,” I said, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I'm going to visit her in the morning. Still haven't heard anything from the cops though.”
“I have a feeling you're not going to,” Casper said angrily. The emotion wasn't directed at me, but at the town in general. “They don't seem to care about anything that happens around here, anything that might have something to do with this stupid Assignment shit.”
“Is Julie doing okay?” I asked him, studying his face. The bruises were just starting to fade, but it would be awhile before they were gone completely. Casper didn't answer right away, instead choosing to let his eyes move up my walls and back down again before focusing on my face.
“She's not so good,” he said, his face sliding into a darker place. “My parents left with her today to visit one of her old doctors in LA. After that, they're going to swing back up north and visit the aquarium.” He kicked his foot at the ugly saxony carpet, leaving a print that would drive my mother nuts. “Good for her to get out of town anyway.”
“Why didn't you go with them?” I asked and watched as his eyes lit up and his gaze drove harder into mine, stealing my breath away.
“Chloe,” he began as I struggled to keep my racing pulse under control.
“Chloe, oh, Chloe,” Kaitlyn whimpered from the top of the stairs. “I love your face hard, Chloe. I want to make babies with you. Let's elope together.” Casper smiled what was probably the most genuine smile I'd seen on his face yet. Little sisters. Couldn't live with 'em, couldn't live … without 'em. The thought was decidedly morbid, so I pushed it back.
“Don't you have somewhere to be?” I called up and she laughed, slamming my door. I listened to the sound of a car idling in the driveway. A few minutes later, it was gone. Off to the beach, like a normal teenager. I felt a pang of regret that I wasn't able to join her.
The Committee. That's the Committee’s fault.
Now I just had to find out who was on it and why they'd picked me. Once we got that out of the way, maybe I could decipher some of the mysteries that were going on around here.
“I thought you might want to go out to lunch. I have no clue where to go around here, and I'm hungry. I'm a terrible cook, so that's out of the question. I mean, it's this or nothing.”
“Are you asking me about again?” I said, rising to my feet and grabbing my purse. Casper wrinkled his brow at me, eyes sparkling mischievously.
“Of course not,” he said, holding out his hand for mine. “Our date's not until this evening.”
I took Casper to the Fish Shack. Not the best name in the world, but their food was worth suffering through the terrible décor, the even worse service, and the constant smell of sea that clung to the old rafters and the splintery tables.
“Did she seriously just tell me to order or else?” I laughed and sat back on the bench, letting my hands rest out in front of me, my fingers just inching from Casper's.
“She kinda did,” I replied. “I think she's also gossiping about us at the hostess station.” I pointed over Casper's shoulder and he gave a horribly fake yawn, stretching his arms over his head and glancing not at all surreptitiously at the two chatting waitresses.
“This town is so weird, Chloe. I'm surprised you turned out as well as you did.”
“Hah!” I laughed again, wishing Heidi were here with us. I think she really would like Casper if she got to know him a little better. They had the same sense of humor. “Like you have room to talk. Seventeen years old, junior in high school, and you're already a pack a day chain smoker?” Casper rolled his wrists over, giving me the clearest view I'd ever had of his tattoo, of the angel wings, and the single word, looped there in cursive. Julie.
“You got me there,” he said, pulling a pack out of his pocket. He studied the red and white box for a moment and then turned around, tossing it halfway across the room and into a trash can. The waitress gave him a death glare, but he just winked at her and spun back around to face me. “How can I look at Julie and know she'd give anything to be healthy, to have a chance at life, and then piss mine away? What kind of person does that make me?” I blinked at the abrupt change in mood. Casper was able to go from happy to angry in a split second. That didn't frighten me off though. It all tied back to his sister, his sense of responsibility, and his fear. I actually thought he was handling it pretty well.
I stared at his hand, at the pale skin on his knuckles stretched tight over the bone. There was a small purple bruise on his pointed finger, just under the joint, like he was wearing a ring. And below that, three tiny scratches, stained dark red with dried blood. Memories of the fight, of the way he fought to protect his sister. Without thinking too hard about what I was doing, I reached forward and wrapped my hand around his. Where he was pale, I was kissed by the sun, golden flesh against white. It was a pretty combination.
“I think you're amazing,” I said and I watched as his breathing slowed and his face relaxed. He probably didn't get to hear that often. “And if you need to smoke to feel better, I don't see why you shouldn't. Nobody lives forever anyway.” Casper's whole body slumped, and he leaned forward, pressing his face against the back of my hand.
“Jesus,” he whispered, his breath hot against my skin. “How many days have we known each other?” I thought carefully.
“Four.”
“Then why do I feel so comfortable around you?” I felt the muscles in his face contract as he smiled. “You make me want to empty my dirty laundry.” His smile shifted into a grin. “And give you miniature shells.” Casper sat up just as the food arrived. “You never did show me where you put that.”
“You never asked,” I replied. The waitress rolled her eyes at us as she dropped two plates of fish and chips on the table, leaving us without another word. As I stared down at the French fries, my mind went back to my best friend, lying in her bedroom all bandaged up. I didn't want to feel like I was betraying her by sitting here, but I kind of did. “This is Heidi's favorite thing to order,” I told Casper. “She says it's the only thing that's named right on the menu.” I lifted up a fry and shook it around. Heidi was always commenting on how fries were really chips, chips were crisps, and that the building Anne Chime's mother rented out was a flat, not an apartment.
“Is she really from England then?” Casper asked, poking a fry into the questionable mixture of ketchup and God only knows what else that decorated the edge of his plate.
“Yep. Though she always tells everyone she's from LA for whatever reason.”
“I mean this in the best way possible, but she kind of seems like a bitch.” Instead of getting angry, I just smiled.
“She can be,” I replied, remembering last night, how she took off her heels and ran down the street just to tell me what she knew about The Assignment, to finally, finally, finally admit her guilt about writing my name down as a candidate. “But she's also fiercely loyal. Tomorrow, when we go talk to her, you'll see.”
“We?” Casper asked, picking up a piece of fried fish. He was asking, but he didn't seem opposed to it.
>
“If you're okay with that?” He smiled, eyes focused on a lemon wedge.
“There's a reason I didn't go with my parents. There's a reason I stayed behind here.”
My mouth went dry as the Sahara desert all of a sudden.
“I stayed here to help you out, Chloe. I want to get you through this thing in one piece. That's my goal for the summer. If I can manage that, I'll feel like I've accomplished something.”
I had no clue how to respond to that, so I didn't. I let the words float in the air between us, comforting and companionable. Despite my innumerable screw ups, he was still giving me a chance. That had to say something about his character, didn't it?
I turned my face toward the window, towards the sea, and for a second there, I really believed I was going to get to spend the whole day getting to know Casper Alice.
What a silly thought that was.
Casper drove us back to his house, winding down weird side streets and alleys that I hadn't even known existed. And Cage was right, he did live across the street from the high school.
“How do you now know this area?” he asked me as he pulled into his driveway. The pavement was covered in profanities, written out in brightly colored chalk. Neither of us mentioned them. “The school is right there. Are you telling me you don't cut class, like, ever? You've never snuck down one of these alleyways?”
“I mean, you can't cut class. They lock the gates during the day. If you want to get out, you have to have a pass.” Casper's face was priceless, all squinched up like I'd just stolen his lunch money or something.
“Gates?”
I nodded, stepping out of the air conditioned vehicle and into the hot breeze. It was pleasant enough in the shade, but I could see the pavement simmering not ten feet away from where I was standing. I wasn't fooled. I looked up at the massive tree that covered Casper's house in cool shade, trying to remember how it had looked when Missy Ula had lived there. Yep. That's right. Missy freaking Ula. I hadn't thought about it before, but maybe there was a connection between the Outcast position and this house? Maybe the Committee wasn't as crafty and selective as I was making them out to be?
Crushing Summer Page 19
