Be the Girl

He chuckles darkly. “Can you imagine Cassie living on her own? In her own apartment? Have you seen her room?”

“There was underwear dangling from her chandelier the other day when I walked in.” She broke out in hysterical laughter, wondering how it got there.

He shakes his head. “She’ll never be able to focus for long enough to drive a car. I can’t even imagine her taking the subway or a bus on her own. She can barely make herself toast. She’d live off Nutella sandwiches and microwaveable TV dinners. And junk. Cheetos and candy. She’ll end up with type 2 diabetes because of all the crap she’d eat, because no one’s there to stop her.”

“She has no self-control, does she,” I ask.

“None.” He chuckles again, but then his smile fades. “I never used to think about this kind of stuff. She was just my sister with autism. I knew she was different and she needed a lot of extra help. But now I hear my parents talking about her every once in a while. About what she’s going to be like in fifteen years, about saving money so she’s set up to survive after they’re gone, about how she’s going to survive, who’s going to help take care of her. My mom worries constantly about money.” He sighs again, and in that sound, I feel the weight of the unspoken words—will responsibility for Cassie fall on his shoulders eventually?

“Well … hopefully you’ll end up making gazillions of dollars in the NFL and it won’t be a big deal for you. Wait—did I get that right?”

“Close enough.” He chuckles. “How did we get on this topic?”

“I can’t remember.” But my heart is swelling with adoration at the fact that he feels comfortable enough to open up to me.

And maybe he feels the same, now that I’ve opened up to him.

The nausea that threatened with divulging parts of my past has begun to subside.

Maybe, just maybe, it was the right move.

“Oh, yeah.” His hand settles on my shoulder, rubbing it affectionately. “All I’m saying is, if Holly does something again, tell me. She shouldn’t get away with it and you don’t have to deal with it alone. Okay?”

I nod. “You know, you’re a really good guy.”

His eyes flitter over my mouth. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

I abandon the laptop and climb onto the bed, crawling toward him.

He watches me approach with a curious smile. “What happened to finishing the—”

I cut off his words with a hard kiss, followed by the slowest, deepest one I’ve ever given anyone, dragging it out as long as possible, hoping he somehow feels how hard I’ve fallen for him.

When I finally break away to see the tender look in his eyes, I think I must have succeeded. His fingertips brush my hair off my face and then he pulls me down into a kiss with as much intensity. It escalates quickly, until we become a mess of frantic mouths and wandering fingers, the worry of Cassie coming home or Mark checking on us the farthest thing from my mind.





23





Dear Julia,

I’m in love. I know I said I was before, but now I know for certain. I’ve waited the obligatory amount of time (it’s been a month since the fair, and though we didn’t get together that night, we got together that night). This is not teenaged infatuation. This is not raging hormones—well, there’s definitely that, too. I finally got the nerve to put my hand down Emmett’s pants and I nearly got caught by Mark. He moves a lot faster up the stairs than Cassie …

But I know, without a doubt, this thing I’m feeling is love.

I told Emmett about the prom joke gone horribly wrong. Remember how I swore I’d never tell anyone? Well, Emmett knows now and he doesn’t hate me. In fact, I think telling him has brought us that much closer.

Dr. C. said a day would eventually come when I felt like I could move on. I think I’m there.

~AJ





“See you later, Cass!” Emmett hollers.

“Yeah. Bye,” she says dismissively, intensely focused on her locker combination.

Emmett slings his arm over my shoulders as we walk along the hall toward our lockers. “I’m so tired,” he groans.

“Aww … Was running with me too hard for you this morning?” I tease with a mock-pout. The sky was murky when we met on the driveway at seven, donning toques and vests. Hope for a mild fall is waning. Halloween is tomorrow and Uncle Merv was grumbling about snow flurries in the forecast.

I get a playful poke to the ribs in return, and then Emmett pulls me into his side with a smile.

I can’t wait to kiss those lips with abandon again.

We’re almost at my locker when Cassie calls out my name. “AJ!”

I turn to see her galloping down the hallway, a stuffed dog in one hand, a piece of paper in the other.

I frown. Cassie never leaves her locker like this. Her routine is clear—empty her bag, go to her community class.

“AJ! I’m going to prom!” she squeals, a wide smile plastered across her face.

“What are you talking about, Cassie?” Emmett asks carefully.

I feel her words as surely as a punch to my stomach.

She shoves the card into his hand. “Zach asked me to prom! And he gave me this! It looks just like Roger Dodger!”

Emmett’s face turns to stone as he scans the card.

Meanwhile, I’m close to losing my breakfast on my shoes.

“Where did you get this, Cassie?”

“It was in my locker.” Her eyes veer behind Emmett. “Oh, hi, Zach. I mean, Farmer.” She giggles, oblivious to the tension radiating off her brother.

“Hey.” He strolls up. “I heard my name. What’s going on?”

Emmett’s teeth are clenched as he shoves the card into his friend’s hand.

Zach scowls as he reads it, whispering softly, “Who did this?”

Emmett’s eyes dart to me, and all I can manage is a fast and furious headshake. I would never do that to her.

But it means someone at Eastmonte found out. It’s too coincidental to be anything else. And I can guess who that person is.

The hallway is spinning as a crowd forms around us, watching the unfolding commotion.

Cassie’s once-brilliant smile has taken on a guarded hue, as her eyes flicker from Emmett to Zach to me. “Cassie …,” Emmett says quietly, gently, though his eyes are brimming with rage. His throat bobs with a hard swallow. “This isn’t from Zach. Someone played a joke on you.”

“It’s not?” She peers at Emmett’s best friend, whose jaw is clenched. “Oh. Okay.” She smiles and gives a little nod as it sinks in.

As she takes in the crowd of faces now watching intently, a range of amusement to pity to horror in their expressions.

As her face turns the deepest red I think I’ve ever seen someone’s face turn.

“Okay.” She keeps nodding and smiling.

As fat, silent tears stream down her cheeks in rivulets. Cassie’s the only person I’ve ever seen cry like that—without making a sound. Somehow it’s more disconcerting to witness than a sobbing mess.

“Well, it’s a good thing I was going to see if you’d go with me, Little Harty.” Zach clears his throat and strolls over to put his arm around her shoulders in a friendly, comforting way.

Cassie peers up at him. “You were?”

“Yeah! It’s just a few months early. I was going to wait to ask, but now you know. Come on, let’s get you back to your class. We’ve got tons of time to talk about it.”

A smile slowly stretches across Cassie’s face as she nods and wipes at her cheeks, her furtive gaze darting from face to face around us. “Yeah. Okay.” She giggles.

And for Cassie, I breathe a small sigh of relief. Zach has truly swooped in to save the day.

Someone in the crowd cheers and then a round of applause quickly follows.

“Zach!” Emmett calls out. They share a long, hard look and then Zach nods once.

“I’ll get her back to class.” He leads Cassie away.

Emmett moves straight for me. “Does Keen or Moretti know what happened to you?”

I shake my head, my eyes darting around. The crowd is dispersing quickly, the excitement over.

“Look … I know you don’t want to talk about it, but we need to report this. It’s obvious Holly found out and wanted to get under your skin.”