to be so excited, but my excuse is that I’m not excited about
seeing Lawrence, per se; it’s more that I’m just happy something interesting is happening in general.
I force my pace to a slow, casual stroll as I walk the long
driveway. I pass the gate and look down both directions of the
street. In the twilight, only the lamp posts show any indication
of civilization. Cicadas buzz loudly in the surrounding hedges.
The glint of fireflies flickers in the woods beyond. And then,
somewhere in the distance, like in a horror movie, a dog barks.
But there’s no sign of Lawrence.
My lips purse in a little frown. I took longer than five minutes to get ready, but not that much longer. I peer down the street again. Nothing. My mind starts to tick through possible scenarios. Did he wait and think I wasn’t coming? Did he get detained at home? Maybe his parents are holding him up.
Maybe he’s getting ready himself? I’ll give him five minutes.
Ten minutes pass.
Then fifteen.
Twenty…
A knot sits heavy in the pit of my stomach. I’ve been stood
up. Was this all some kind of sick joke? The thought makes
me queasy. He doesn’t seem like the type. Or does he? Didn’t I
see the warning signs right from the start? But I ignored them
because I was attracted to his brooding, poetry-reciting self.
Which is probably exactly what he’d planned.
Feeling sick, I stare up the street yet again, hoping against
hope that I will see his dark outline appear. My pathetic hope
fills me with a surge of shame. He’s not coming. I must look so
stupid waiting here on an empty street. My face goes hot, and I
dash back to the house. I can’t get inside fast enough.
As I head upstairs, I hear Mom’s voice.
“Cass? You’re back?”
My promises of sweet, cheerful behavior taste like salt on my
tongue. I want to yell at her. I want to act out. I want her to
know I’m in pain. But I swallow the words down.
“We’ve decided to meet another time,” I call, trying my best
to sound normal.
“Oh.” Mom’s voice is unbearably gentle. “You okay?”
“I’m fine. Just tired. I’m going to go to bed.”
“Okay… Good night.”
I don’t respond. I drag myself up the stairs to my room and
push the door closed.
Chapter 5
Cassandra
feel inexplicably calm when I wake in the morning.
I
Maybe “numb” is a better word for it. Either way, I’m absolutely determined not to waste another ounce of emotion or thought on Lawrence Foster. I glide down to breakfast with my head high. I am calm. I am relaxed. I am unmoved.
As I approach the table, the glance Mom and Frank exchange does not pass my notice. Is that a glint of pity I see on Mom’s face? I sigh and flop down at my seat. Even Eddie seems to be tentative as he munches his sugary cereal. There’s only the sound of hesitant chewing. I roll my eyes.
“Mom,” I say calmly. “I have a request.”
“Sure, dear,” she says overly cheerfully. “What’s up?” “Let’s do something. Something that will take up the whole
day. Something fun.” Frank sets a hand on my shoulder. “Anything you want to talk about, Sassy—”
“Nope. Not even remotely.”
“Right,” Mom says. “I know what we can do. Shopping.
Shopping fixes everything.”
“There’s nothing to fix,” I say in a swift, defensive way that
negates what I actually said.
Mom plays along anyway. “Let’s go shopping. And take
the convertible.”
I lift my glass of orange juice. “Cheers to that.”
h
My diversion plan works perfectly. It’s not as if it’s hard.
Lawrence was an intriguing (and okay, fine, very goodlooking) guy that I knew for about three seconds. Nothing more. The sting of humiliation passes fairly easily.
Or so it seems. The crack in the facade comes two days later. Eddie and I are playing catch in the backyard while
Mom and Frank clean up after a barbecue. Project Cheer