“Huh,” he says again, nodding. Like he’s confused, even though he obviously isn’t. Then he starts patting around his sweatshirt pockets and digging in his jeans. “Ah, here it is.” He pulls out a folded page and holds it up into the air, pulling it farther away when I grab for it. “Oh wait, now I remember why I didn’t give it to you. I knocked on the bathroom door to tell you about it, and you yelled, ‘Go away, jerk!’”
He’s right. I did that. Screamed it, actually. Since the accident, my anxiety has been back with such Technicolor vengeance. Each day is mostly a thing I survive. But some are even crappier than others. And yesterday was one of the super-crap ones. By the time I got into the shower, hoping it would help me calm down, all I wanted to do was scream—at myself, at the world. I definitely couldn’t deal with Gideon. If I thought apologizing to him wouldn’t just make things worse, I would have. And I am kind of sorry. Deep down, Gideon doesn’t mean to be a jerk. But the sweet part of him is buried so deep these days, it won’t be able to keep the rest of Gideon from kicking me when I’m down.
“Give me the note, Gideon. Please.”
He lifts his hand and the note even higher in the air. I’ve always been on the tall side, but Gideon is pushing six feet. There’s no way I can grab it. “Maybe I should read it,” he says. “You two aren’t even really friends anymore. Probably because Cassie got tired of everything being all about you and your problems all the time.”
“Gideon, if you don’t give me that note, I’m going to tell Dad I saw you smoking pot with Stephen the other day.”
It’s true—out in our small square of a backyard, next to the shed. From the look of it, it was Gideon’s first time. He’s got his issues, but drugs aren’t one of them. But even if it was just a one-off, I’ll still use it if I have to. The color has gone out of Gideon’s face. And there’s this look in his eyes. Like now he really, really hates me. I want not to care. But I do. I always do.
“Whatever,” he says finally, throwing Cassie’s note at me. It hits the wall over my head and drops to the floor. “But if I was stuck with a messed-up best friend like you, I’d run away, too.”
And with that, Gideon turns and walks out of the living room, headed for the steps. I wait until he’s gone before I pick up the note.
I’m sorry, it reads in Cassie’s bubbly letters. You were right. About everything, I just wasn’t ready to hear it. But I’m ready now. For whatever happens. Xoxo C
For whatever happens? I read the words again, my fingers gripping the paper. My heart is thumping in my chest. I do not like the sound of that—like Cassie has made peace with something. Like people do before they—Cassie wouldn’t do something to herself, would she? No, I don’t think so. In the past few months, I’ve thought about putting an end to things, an end to me. But Cassie is not like me. She’s like a giant rubber ball. She always bounces back. It’s what defines her as a human being. She’s just out having one too many Smirnoff Watermelon Ices again. She has to be.
My stomach twists tighter as I read the words again. What was I “right” about exactly? That Cassie needed to stop drinking, put on some weight, take better care of herself? That Jasper wasn’t a person she should trust? That he would hurt her eventually? I don’t want to be right about any of those things anymore. Not when me being right could mean something awful for Cassie. And the truth is, I don’t know what she’s capable of anymore.
I pick up my phone to send Cassie yet another text. It might be worth saying I’m sorry, too. I was right to try to get her to stop drinking. I had good reason to be worried. But I did mix that up with other things that didn’t matter nearly as much, like the Rainbow Coalition and Jasper.
Just got your note. I’m sorry too. I should have been a better friend. Come home. Please. Whatever is going on, we’ll fix it together.
I’m still staring down at my phone, willing a response from Cassie, when there’s a knock at our front door. Or did I imagine it? I’m hoping I might have when it comes again. Cassie? But the knock is harder and louder even than before with Karen. A bigger fist maybe, a heavier hand? Keep the doors locked. But I have to at least check to make sure it’s not Cassie.
I make my way over carefully to the foyer. I can hear the shower upstairs. Gideon can’t hear a thing. Not even if I scream. I suck in some air, tucking myself to the side so I can peek out the window without being seen.