“Cass?” Brandon runs after me. “What are you doing?”
I don’t respond. My mind is racing so fast that I can’t grab on
to a single thought. My cell phone sits on my desk. I grab it and
turn it on. Brandon comes to my doorway, his brow furrowed.
“Are you okay? Cass, talk to me.”
I swipe a hand at him to make him shut up. “I have a picture
of Travis. From the night we jumped the Andersons’ fence.”
“That was just me and you, Cass.”
“No,” I say firmly. “Travis was there. We took a picture. I’ll
prove it to you.”
Fingers trembling, I slide through my photos. A few pictures
of Eddie. Some shots of me looking bored that I sent to Jade.
A picture of the house exterior from when we first came here.
And then…I’m back in Ohio, waving to Jade at the airport.
Frowning, I scan through the pictures. It was there. It was right
there. The selfie we took in front of the fence. Travis put his
arm around me. I made an ironic thumbs up gesture.
It’s gone.
“It was here,” I say, my voice weak. “I had…I had a picture
of him.”
Brandon comes cautiously into my room. “Cass. I don’t know
what you’re talking about. That night, it was just you and me.
I’ve never even heard of a Travis Howard. I think you might be
confusing him with someone you knew in Ohio.”
I shake my head. “No. No.” I scan through the pictures again.
Nothing. No texts. His name is missing from my contacts.
With a trembling hand, I pull up Facebook. The only Travis
Howards are people I’ve never met. He’s gone. There’s no trace
of him.
I look up and back away from Brandon. “This can’t be
happening.”
He stares at me, concerned and weirded out. “What’s going
on, Cass? You’re super pale all the sudden.”
The floor feels unsteady beneath me. Dinner suddenly rises
in my stomach.
“I want you to leave,” I say, backing up.
“Cass—”
“Now.…please.”
He puts up his hands in surrender. “Fine. I’ll take off, let you
sort this out. Can I call you later?”
I don’t respond. He nods and turns to go.
What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to think? I need
to calm down. I’m probably overreacting. I’m sure there is a
perfectly good explanation for all of this.
Glancing at my phone again, I run downstairs. Mom’s in
the library, sitting at the computer with her reading glasses on.
When I burst in, she looks up, with motherly concern.
“Cass?”
“Travis Howard,” I blurt out.
“What?”
“I can’t find a picture of Travis that I took on my phone. Did
you…delete it or something?”
Mom frowns. “No, I haven’t touched your phone.”
“But you know who Travis is, right?”
Her lips twist to the side in thought. “Is he from around here
or back in Ohio?”
The floor feels unsteady. “Mom, Travis. Brandon’s best friend?
Tall, blue eyes? Only child of the Howards?”
Mom shakes her head. “And I know them?”
“They came to your party! Don’t you remember? They
brought you that über-expensive bottle of wine that you and
Frank were gushing over.”
“Well…” She’s trying really hard.
“You can’t honestly not know who I’m talking about,” I say.
There’s a tremor in my voice. “You’ve met him at least five times
this summer. He’s come to the house.”
Her silence says everything I need to know. I drop into one of
the deep maroon armchairs to keep from falling over. This can’t
be happening. It’s impossible.
But Lawrence’s voice echoes in my ears. Billy Howard died
yesterday. It can’t be. It can’t.
“What’s wrong, Cass?” Mom’s voice sounds fuzzy. It’s like I’m
listening to her with my head underwater. I rise to my feet and
stagger out of the room .
h