by Diane Hoh
But she seemed friendly enough now. “Great game, right?” she said, smiling.
Cassidy nodded. Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t had anything to eat, just coffee. Where was Sawyer with that hot dog?
“Listen, Cassidy,” Tobie said, leaning forward slightly as if she suspected Cassidy might be hard-of-hearing, “I’ve been talking to a couple of people on the dance committee, and we were, well, we were wondering if you’d like one of us to take over as chairperson.”
At first, Cassidy thought maybe she really had developed a hearing problem. She didn’t see how she could have heard correctly. She had sold the idea as a fund-raiser, she had enlisted the aid of volunteers from psych class, she had made most of the arrangements. Of course she was chairperson.
“What?” she said, her eyes searching the crowd for some sign of Sawyer. She really was becoming faint with hunger. She should have eaten lunch instead of spending so much time wrestling with her hair. “What did you say, Tobie?”
Tobie raised her voice. “I said, we think someone else should take over as chairperson, Cassidy. Everyone’s talking about how you came to class an hour late the other day and how you went to Nightmare Hall last night expecting a party. And then Noah heard some story about you and a car that no one else has ever seen.” She began speaking faster, as if she wanted to get her unpleasant task over with quickly. “We figure, this dance is important to the mental health clinic, Cassidy, we’ve worked hard on it and,” in a breathless rush of words, “wecan’taffordtohavesomeonescrewitup.”
Cassidy stared at the girl so intensely, Tobie’s cheeks flushed scarlet. “You’re kidding, right?” Cassidy said, her voice chilly. “You’re not really suggesting I’m going to screw it up, are you?”
Tobie’s eyes went to the cement floor and stayed there. “Well, not on purpose, Cassidy. But we all thought…”
“Who’s we?” Cassidy interrupted.
“A few of us on the committee, we were just thinking maybe you have too much on your mind these days. I mean, you’re working on other stuff, too, Cassidy, and there are classes and assignments and research and, well, we just thought you might be trying to do too much.”
“Who?” Cassidy persisted. “Who is we?”
“Noah and Patsy and Nita and Roger and I.”
Cassidy let out a small sigh of relief. Not Travis or Sawyer or Ann or Talia or Sophie. Not her friends. They hadn’t betrayed her. That was something. In fact, that was a lot, considering the way her roommates had been looking at her this morning.
“I’m not a quitter, Tobie,” Cassidy said, with far more conviction than she felt. Because although she didn’t want to think it, it had occurred to her that maybe they were right. Noah and Patsy and Nita and Roger and Tobie. Maybe they were. Maybe chairing the dance was too big a job for someone who went to classes that were already over and parties that hadn’t even started. “But you can go back and tell your friends that the minute I think my brain is turning to slush, I’ll hand the reins over to someone else, okay?”
Tobie raised round, innocent eyes to meet Cassidy’s. “But that’s just it, Cassidy. Don’t you remember what we learned in psych class? Professor Bruin said that in many cases of illusions and hallucinations, the patient is…”
“…completely unaware of what is happening,” Cassidy finished. “Yes, I remember. What’s that got to do with me?” She hated the way her voice sounded. Defensive and hard-edged.
Tobie obviously hated it, too, and backed down. Acknowledging defeat, she said, “Nothing, I guess. It’s just…well, if you change your mind, let us know, okay, Cassidy?”
“I won’t change my mind.”
Shaking her head, Tobie left.
When Sawyer arrived with Cassidy’s hot dog, she was still thinking about the statement Dr. Bruin had made in class. “In many cases of mental illness, when the mind begins to disintegrate, the patient is completely unaware of what is happening.” And there was more. She had continued, “There is total denial on the part of the patient, which makes proper treatment difficult, if not impossible, in the early stages.”
Total denial? Well, of course. You’d have to be crazy to willingly admit that your brain was turning to yogurt.
As Sawyer handed her a mustard packet and a napkin, Cassidy laughed softly, bitterly, at her own choice of words. “You’d have to be crazy” to admit it? Wasn’t it the other way around, according to Dr. Bruin? If you admitted that you might be going crazy, then you probably weren’t, and there was hope for you. But if you denied it…
If you denied it, there probably was something wrong.
Wasn’t that exactly what Tobie had been hinting?
Chapter 11
SALEM BEAT THEIR ARCHRIVAL, State University, by twelve points. Spirits were high as the crowd pushed its way out of the stadium.
Cassidy hadn’t gone back to her seat after halftime, sitting instead in the top row of bleachers with Sawyer. She didn’t think Sophie and Talia had minded. Maybe they’d even been relieved that she hadn’t returned. They couldn’t have been all that happy about the stares and whispers.
By the time Sawyer and his friends and Cassidy had made their way down the steps and emerged from the stadium, Talia and Sophie were long gone. Cassidy felt a little lost. Sawyer was so busy doing a play-by-play of the game with his pals that he hardly seemed to notice she was there. Deep in conversation, he didn’t see the car when Cassidy did.
She had just rounded a corner of the high stone wall surrounding the stadium when she spotted the TransAm. Her heart stopped. She saw the car clearly, in spite of the dense crowd in front of her. It was parked across the street, between a yellow pickup truck and a white Mercedes-Benz convertible. And the driver was inside. The dark window glass hid his face, but small puffs of white smoke from the exhaust told her the engine was idling. He had to be behind the wheel. Watching her?
The sight of the car filled her with dread. But she quickly realized that she should be rejoicing that it was there, right in front of her. Because she wasn’t alone this time. Sawyer and his friends would see it, too, and soon everyone would know that her imagination wasn’t on overdrive, after all. Word would spread quickly that Cassidy Kirk’s brain wasn’t self-destructing. Sawyer could testify that there really was such a car on campus, no matter what the registration records might say.
But before she could call out to Sawyer, there was a sudden surge forward in the crowd and Cassidy was swept along with it, away from him. When she glanced frantically over her shoulder, she saw that he was still lost in conversation with his friends. He hadn’t even noticed that she was no longer with them.
Fighting to halt her forward rush, she called, “Sawyer, look! The car, it’s across the street! Sawyer!”
He didn’t hear her over the noise of the jubilant crowd.
And although she continued to shout at him to look, she knew she might as well have been whispering for all the good it was doing.
The crowd continued to sweep her along.
By the time Sawyer caught up with her at the curb, the TransAm was gone, its place already filled by a motorcycle. Cassidy had to fight to hold back tears of disappointment.
“Why didn’t you look?” she shouted at a stunned Sawyer. “The car was there, right there,” she said, pointing, “and I wanted you to see it so you’d know I wasn’t crazy! But you didn’t pay any attention!”
“I don’t think you’re crazy,” he said slowly, taking her hand, clearly puzzled by her reaction. “But,” he glanced across the street, “where exactly was it? I mean, there doesn’t seem to be room over there for another car.”
“Well, not now,” she said in disgust. “The motorcycle just parked there. But there was room. And the TransAm was there.” She couldn’t believe she’d missed her opportunity to prove that she wasn’t seeing things. “I wanted you to see it!” she cried in frustration. “So you’d know it really exists.”
“I told you,” he said patiently, leading her across the street,
“if you say you saw it, then you did. I’m sorry I wasn’t paying attention, Cassidy, but it’s no big deal. Why are you so upset?”
I’m upset, she thought angrily, because this was my chance to prove that I’m not losing it, and you weren’t paying attention. Knowing that wasn’t fair, she said aloud, “The car upsets me. I think he’s following me. Watching me. And I don’t why.”
“Maybe you should talk to the campus police,” Sawyer suggested as they made their way across the campus under huge old elm and maple trees with multicolored leaves.
“And tell them I’m being haunted by a black TransAm? How can I? According to your friend Tom, there’s no such vehicle on Salem’s campus. That’s the first thing the police would check, and when they found out what you found out, they’d be as convinced that I’m inventing the car as everyone else is.”
“Maybe not. But I guess it would be hard to convince them. Without proof, I mean.”
Cassidy couldn’t disagree with that. And she couldn’t stand to talk about the TransAm. What was the point? They walked in silence to the Quad, where Sawyer said suddenly, “Saw you talking to Tobie Shea.” The sun had gone down and the air was turning rapidly colder. People who had been celebrating on the commons were giving up to take refuge inside. “You didn’t look very happy. Was she giving you a hard time about something?”
“Not really.” She wasn’t going to share that conversation with anyone, not even Sawyer. “She had a few complaints about the dance committee, that’s all. No big deal.”
He accepted that explanation. Telling her they’d all decided to go to Johnny’s Place, a club in town, to celebrate, and that he’d pick her up at eight, he left her at the door.
Everyone in 56A was going into town. Sophie and Talia had dates, and Ann was meeting Travis there. She announced this cautiously when she arrived home from baby-sitting, as if she were expecting Cassidy to react unpleasantly to the news.
“Great!” Cassidy said cheerfully as she slipped into a short, red leather skirt and matching sweater. “So we all have dates tonight. That makes life just about perfect, doesn’t it?” She pulled on thigh-high black boots. “It wouldn’t be any fun going to Johnny’s Place alone. Trust me. I went to a party alone, and I got the wrong night.”
Ann laughed uncertainly. “Well, it’s nice that you can joke about it.”
Yeah, isn’t it, Cassidy thought sarcastically. How many choices do I have?
“You sure you have your inhaler?” Sophie asked as they left for the lobby to meet their dates.
“Yes, I have it,” Cassidy responded sharply. “Do you have your key, which you are constantly forgetting, Sophie Green?”
Sophie laughed and, not offended at all, turned back to the room to retrieve her key.
“Now, which one of us is it that needs a keeper, Sophie?” Cassidy asked slyly as Sophie rejoined the group.
“Me,” Sophie said, laughing again, “it’s me, Cassidy. And thanks for reminding me about my key.”
Forgiving her, Cassidy said, “And thanks for reminding me about my inhaler. Really.”
“Really,” Ann echoed, smiling at Sophie as they entered the lobby. “I was there when Cassidy had that attack. It was horrible. Even with her inhaler. I don’t want to think about what an asthma attack would sound like and look like if she didn’t have that thing handy.” Ann shuddered. “I hope I never have to see that.”
“You won’t,” Cassidy assured her flatly. “I promise.”
“At least it’s a physical condition,” Talia said, “not a mental one. You’re lucky there’s medication for what ails you, so to speak, right?”
“Right,” Cassidy said, but by then they were in the lobby, and Cassidy forgot about asthma entirely because Sawyer looked terrific in a blue sweater that matched his eyes.
He almost ruined the evening before it began by asking her, “You feeling okay?”
But she told herself that people asked that question of other people all the time, and it didn’t mean anything. It didn’t mean that Sawyer had joined the ranks of those who were suddenly questioning Cassidy Kirk’s mental stability. It just meant that he cared about her, that was all. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all.
“I’m feeling great!” she said, smiling up at him. “Just great. Let’s party!”
The road to town was filled with cars honking their horns in triumph over Salem’s win and people shouting out of car windows. The mood at the club would be one of jubilation. Should be a lot of fun, Cassidy told herself as they pulled into the parking lot in front of the long, low warehouse-style building.
But as they approached the doorway, she suddenly felt uneasy. Please, she prayed as they went inside, please don’t let anything weird happen tonight.
The plea surprised her. She hadn’t been this nervous since she was five years old. What was different about tonight? She was with friends, she was a good dancer, and she always had fun at Johnny’s Place.
No! She was going to have a great time tonight. If anyone stared at her or whispered about her actually showing up on the right night, she would give them such a look, their bones would dissolve. And nothing, absolutely nothing weird was going to happen. She wouldn’t allow it.
And for quite a while, it didn’t.
She danced with Sawyer. And she danced with Travis, while Ann watched from the sidelines, pretending to be talking to Tobie Shea, but looking as if she’d just tasted something nasty.
I never knew she was so possessive, Cassidy thought, surprised. Ann had always seemed so calm, so cool, not at all the kind of person who would keep a tight rein on her dates.
It was just like Dr. Bruin said in psych class. You never knew what was going on underneath someone’s exterior behavior. Cassidy’s mother had phrased it differently, saying, “Don’t judge a book by its cover,” but it meant the same thing. It meant that you had to know people a long time before you really knew them.
She had thought that she knew Travis and Ann really well. Wrong on both counts. Maybe Ann was actually as demanding as Travis. In that case, they should get along perfectly. A match made in heaven.
“The music’s great, isn’t it?” Travis asked as the song ended. “So, is it all set for Misstery to play at our dance?”
Cassidy nodded. “But I need to talk to Lola about the details. Maybe I can do that tonight.”
So, when the band took a break, Cassidy signaled to Lola to join them at their table. She seemed grateful for the opportunity to sit for a few minutes, and gratefully accepted the cold drink Sawyer handed her. “It’s hot under those lights,” she complained, yanking her long, blonde hair high up on her head and fastening it with a clip. “I should be used to it, but I’m not.”
“You guys are great,” Cassidy said, meaning it. “And it’s really nice of you to waive your fee for our dance.”
Lola took a long, deep swallow of her drink, sat the cup down on the checkered tablecloth, and looked at Cassidy. “Dance? What dance?”
Chapter 12
TWO OR THREE SEPARATE conversations had been taking place around the crowded table. When Lola said, “Dance? What dance?”, everyone stopped talking at once. An apprehensive silence descended upon the group like a dark cloud.
Cassidy laughed nervously. “Very funny, Lola. As if you didn’t know. The dance we’re giving for the mental health clinic. Two weeks from tonight.”
“Two weeks from tonight,” Lola said emphatically, “we’re playing at a high school dance in Juniper, about an hour from here. We signed the contract yesterday afternoon.”
The silence at the table thickened, became ominous.
Cassidy cleared her throat. “No, Lola, that’s not possible. You must have your dates mixed up. Remember, I wrote you about our dance. And you sent back a confirmation. I have it in my room.”
Lola laughed. She reached up and brushed back a sweaty lock of hair from her face. “Cassidy, I don’t sit down and write formal notes of acceptance. I’m a musician. I don’t even own any s
tationery. We do everything by phone. A quick call, a yes or no, and then we sit down with the client and sign a contract. I never signed a contract with you. And I don’t remember getting any letter from you, either.”
Clutching at straws, Cassidy said desperately, “Don’t you read your mail?”
“Of course. I read all of it.” Lola grinned. “Just in case some big recording company is writing us with an offer. And I’d remember if there’d been a letter from your group, Cassidy. There wasn’t. If there had been, I wouldn’t have just blown it off. That’s not the way we operate. I’d have called you. There was no letter.”
Shock and dismay had rendered Cassidy speechless. She could think of nothing else to say. Lola seemed so certain.
As everyone stared at her accusingly, Cassidy thought, No, no, this isn’t happening. I wrote that letter. I did! And Lola wrote back to me.
“I have the confirmation letter in my room,” she said softly.
“Well, if you do,” Lola said, standing up, “it’s not from me. Sorry about the dance. Wish I could help, but we can’t be in two places at once, can we? Let me know how it goes. Gotta get back to work now. Have fun.” The fringe on her suede vest swung as she walked back to the bandstand.
Cassidy stared after Lola’s departing back. Have fun? Impossible now. Everyone at the table was staring at her with looks that ranged from disappointment to undisguised disgust.
“We were counting on Misstery to draw a big crowd,” Travis said.
Ann nodded. “It’s just not going to be the same without them. Besides, I told everyone they were going to be there. Good thing we hadn’t put up any posters yet.”
“Well, we’ve already sold a lot of tickets,” Sophie said. “I don’t think people will cancel and want their money back just because Misstery isn’t going to be there. We’ll get another band.”
“Where?” Talia asked. “It’s late. If a band is any good at all, it’ll already be booked for two weeks from tonight.”
“Well, we can’t have a dance without a band,” Sawyer pointed out. “We’ll have to find someone.”
