Of the Trees Page 13
A warm tongue caressed its way up her neck, teeth nipping in the wake and Cassie closed her eyes again. She let her hands drift up his sides, feeling the muscular cut of him. He caught her wrists in his hands and pinned them tightly to her side. The bark cut into her skin, and she groaned, but that was because he was kissing her again, his lips warm and firm and demanding.
“Leave them there,” he rasped, his breath hot on the shell of her ear. She did, and his hands got bolder, stroking along the silky fabric of her dress. One hand dipped lower, his fingers skirting bare thigh. Her fingers tightened against the bark at the resulting shock, and she stuttered against his lips. He shushed her and continued, pressing and insistent. Jessica groaned again, and Cassie looked over, a spasm of fear working its way through her core.
She knew that guy. She didn’t see it before, hadn’t recognized him, but through the haze of alcohol and heady kissing, it was suddenly clear. Jude. The older, overweight carnie. It was him.
Cassie stiffened against the tree. “Wait,” she whispered, jolted when he didn’t, when his hand slid higher on her leg, dragging her dress up. “No!”
She spoke louder, bringing her hands to his forearms and gripping hard. He tensed, anger rippling off him. Realization slowly overtook her, her mind horrified at her actions. She felt flushed, hot and embarrassed, but no longer confused. She pushed away from the tree, under the arm of the boy she had being making out with.
Wrong. This was wrong.
There was no one left at the fire. No sign of anyone at all, except for the moans and breathy whimpers that rose around her.
“Jess,” Cassie hissed, stalking closer to her. Her friend peered up at her, her face a mix of beatific happiness and a cloud of confusion. “Get up, we have to go home.”
“Go home yourself, Cass,” Jessica murmured, pressing her face into Jude’s neck. She waved her off, but Cassie stood firm.
“I’m serious, Jessica Evans,” she said, her voice rising. “I’m not leaving you out here.”
Jessica sat up, Jude sliding off her. He turned to Cassie, glaring, and Cassie stepped back. He looked different, a trick of the light maybe, but his gut was gone, his shoulders broader. There was something there though, something in the set of the eyes, the tightness of his glare, and she knew, knew, that this was the same man.
“I’m getting Laney, and I’m leaving. I think you should come, too.”
Jessica snorted, looking from Jude to Cassie. “Jude promised me a dance,” she said instead, her voice teasingly coy. “Didn’t you?”
Instead of answering, he stood. Cassie gritted her teeth, standing her ground against the man who towered over her. Jessica went to move past her, heading toward the fire, when Cassie grabbed her arm. “Look, how much did you have to drink?” she asked in a whisper. Jessica laughed.
“Honestly, Cass? I’ve had much better things to do tonight.” Her eyes sparkled, and she looked back to Jude, cocking her head in invitation.
“How are you gonna get home?” Cassie called out, watching them stalk over to the fire.
“Becca,” Jessica called out in answer. “We’ll find each other.”
Cassie paused, watching until Jessica sidled up to Jude, their hips rotating together in time, dancing to music no one heard but them. A tremor went up her limbs as she watched them, watched the intensity with which they looked at each other. It was wrong. It was too much, too connected, like nothing else in the world mattered but the two of them, like they could dance all night and never tire.
Cassie spun away from the fire, her vision swimming with flashes of orange flame and cool, purple night. She needed to find Laney. She felt like she was losing her grip on reality and she needed to get out of the woods. But she needed Laney to go with her. She would not leave her here alone with Corey.
Corey. Could he be the same? Like Jude, was he also at the carnival that night? How could Cassie not have seen it? A fresh surge of panic welled in her gut, and she spun around.
The boy Cassie had pushed away was leaning back into the tree she had been pinned against. A hot shiver coursed through her when she met his stare. His head was down, his blond hair falling over his eyes, but his gaze locked on her face, patient and appraising. He peered at her and something in his features shifted. As though through a heat shimmer, Cassie watched as lines deepened and then smoothed around his eyes, as his skin went from clear to rough. She had seen this boy before, seen these same blue eyes peering at her from beneath dirty, sandy hair and a black hood, his jeans smeared with grease. A tremor ran through her fingers, but she took a deep breath and walked past him, pushing her way into the forest where she had seen Laney disappear earlier. She felt his gaze follow her.
There were many couples littered throughout the woods. Cassie couldn’t see them all clearly, but the rustling and giggling gave them away. She felt intrusive, like she was wandering through people’s private bedrooms, but no one seemed to notice she was there. The fear and panic pushed her forward. She could feel him watching her as she tripped further into the woods. A soft laugh echoed around her, resonating through the trees.
“Laney?” she called into the night.
No answer. But something answered, something else.
Come back, it whispered. Cassie gripped the side of her head with her fingers. The voice echoed through the trees, coming to rest in her brain and bounce around inside her skull.
Come back. Come back. COME BACK!
“No!” Cassie shouted, spinning back around. She could see no one, but she could feel him, feel it, the whispers insistent and jumbling, twisting insidiously through her thoughts. “Laney!”
“Cassie?” Laney answered, her voice soft and yet nervous. “Over here, Cass.”
Cassie jolted toward the sound of her voice, tripping once before she found them. Laney was putting her arms back into her jacket, and she stepped forward when she saw Cassie coming toward her.
“We have to go,” Cassie whispered in a rush. “I have to get out of here.”
“Calm down,” Laney soothed, pulling Cassie in for a hug. “You okay?”
“No,” Cassie insisted, pulling out of her grasp. “I’m serious. I really have to get out of here.”
“Was it—”
“Laney! Please!”
“Okay, okay,” Laney said, worry twisting her features. “Corey? Drive us home?”
Out of the forest, as though he had materialized from the trees, Corey appeared. His appearance was tidy, though there were leaves in his hair. Laney reached forward lovingly, brushing the debris away. He grinned down at her, infatuated. She reached up on tiptoes, kissing him gently on the lips. The panic rising in Cassie threatened to overwhelm. She giggled stupidly, the sound high-pitched and loud in the hush of the woods.
“Okay, Cassie, let’s get home,” Laney said, her tone soft and gentle. She grabbed her friend’s hand and tugged, pulling her back toward the fire. They passed Jude and Jess, still dancing seductively, and took off for the cemetery.
The woods seemed to protest her leaving. Every branch caught Cassie’s foot and she stumbled into Laney so many times, she was surprised her friend didn’t snap at her. Laney didn’t yell. She just righted her time and again, murmuring gentle reassurances. Corey led them quietly, the brightness of the moon enough for him to make out their path. Everything was still except for their crushing footsteps onto the years of dead, fallen leaves. Everything, but the wind. It rushed on through the trees, only higher up and away from them. Cassie couldn’t feel it; it didn’t whip her hair back or tug at her clothing, but she could hear it. The whoosh and whistle of it, the rush that sounded like words.
Just the wind. Just the wind. She repeated over and over in her mind, trying to make it true. Because underneath the wind, or maybe softer than that, maybe coming directly from inside her, were the words.
Come back. Come back.
She would have screamed, but she didn’t think that would make it stop. She d
idn’t want the others to know, didn’t want them to look at each other in fear and pity that poor Cassie was losing it, hearing voices in the wind. Maybe she could blame her behavior on the guilt, the crushing mortification of allowing that boy to keep her pressed against that tree. It wasn’t until they were safely back in the car that Cassie even thought to ask. “What about … ” she stalled, realizing she didn’t even know his name, “your friend?”
“He can grab a ride with someone else,” Corey assured her.
The whispers wouldn’t quit inside her head. Even after the car door shut, even with the engine started and revved, still, over the noise, Cassie could hear the whisper.
Come back. Come back.
She grunted, her hands flying up to her ears and pressing tightly. It didn’t help. Laney turned in her seat, concern etched over her face. “How much did you have to drink tonight?”
Cassie grimaced, rocking in her seat. “Nothing,” she said. “No, a beer. Just one.”
“You’re staying at my place tonight,” Laney said, catching Corey’s eye for a moment before putting her hand out and patting Cassie’s arm. “I’ll text your mom.”
Laney pulled her phone out of her pocket, and Cassie stilled, remembering where her phone was, and who had it, and something like hot lead filled her stomach at the thought of facing Ryan tomorrow. Cassie heard the buzz of a reply but didn’t look up. Her mother wouldn’t care that she was at Laney’s.
Cassie awoke the next morning with a pounding headache, her mouth dry. She reached out for the bottle of water Laney usually left on her nightstand, wincing at the pops it made when she twisted the cap free. She gulped the water down. It sloshed in her empty stomach.
Cassie shouldn’t be hungover. She only had one beer, but she felt sick. She couldn’t honestly say what had happened to her last night. At the time, she had felt drugged. The buzzing and voices inside her head had been terrifying, unlike anything she had ever experienced. It didn’t help now that her insides were twisting with mortification and guilt or that she could still feel that boy’s hands all over her, his mouth hot against hers.
Her stomach pooled with regret, and all she could think about was Ryan. Ryan, and what he’d say if had seen her last night.
And Jon. Jon was there. But he didn’t see her.
Cassie jerked out of bed, her hand rubbing forcefully over her mouth, suddenly not too sure Jon hadn’t seen her. She stumbled over a pile of shed clothes from last night and grimaced, still smelling the wood fire in her hair and on her skin. Suddenly, she wanted nothing more than a shower, wanting to wash away the dirt and the smoke and the feeling of someone’s hands running all over her.
“You okay?” Laney’s timid voice peeped from beneath the covers. Cassie sunk down on the end of the bed, running a hand through her hair. She hugged herself around her midriff before pulling her pajama covered legs to her chest. She felt embarrassingly like crying and didn’t want to.
“I’m fine,” she coughed out, swallowing hard against the rasp in her throat.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Laney offered, sitting up. Cassie shook her head.
“I have to get to breakfast,” Cassie said, offering a wry grimace over her shoulder at her friend. Laney gave a small smile and shrugged before burrowing back down into the bed. “I’ll get my clothes and stuff from you later.”
“Call me,” Laney said, her voice muffled. Cassie nodded, even though Laney couldn’t see her. She bent and rummaged through the backpack she had shoved her shoes in last night. She grabbed them, carrying them by the strap. She considered strapping them to her feet, but decided not to since the walk wasn’t far and the only thing more embarrassing than running from Laney’s house to her house in pajamas and no bra, was doing it in high heels.
Her home was suspiciously quiet. Cassie stepped into the foyer, dropping her shoes. They landed with a clack and a thunk on the hardwood floor, and no one called out in greeting. She sniffed hopefully, anticipating the savory smell of frying bacon. She was disappointed however; the kitchen was quiet and still, no sounds of breakfast cooking.
“Mom?” Cassie called out, walking down the hall toward the kitchen. Her head felt loose, pounding in time with her heartbeat and she brought her fingers to her skull, massaging gently. No one answered her. If it had been any morning other than a Sunday, that wouldn’t be unusual. Today, there was supposed to be the sizzle of bacon, and the slap of pancakes being flipped. Today, she was supposed to hear her mother’s quiet cursing and her father chuckling at his wife’s temper as he rustled the pages of the Sunday newspaper.
The kitchen was empty. Cassie spun in the center, looking at the stove clock. Eight thirty. It was already late for breakfast. She poked her head into the garage, noted the missing car, and headed back up the stairs.
As she came through the hallway once more, she noticed the hastily scrawled message on the hall mirror.
They called me back to work, be home before 3 -Mom
Cassie sighed, finding herself wishing that she could at least count on Sunday morning breakfast. Of all mornings, this morning, she could have used the dose of stability, but her mom’s job did that all the time, constantly calling to see if she could come in and work overtime. Her mom could never say no.
Cassie stopped at the top of the stairs and picked up a towel she had discarded last night, noticing as she did that she could just hear the sounds of the shower running from inside her parent’s bathroom. She grimaced, not wanting to wait for the shower, but knowing she’d get no hot water if she didn’t. Just as she was straightening up, the wrinkled towel gripped in one hand, she noticed a crumpled piece of paper on the carpet just in front of her parent’s bedroom door. She recognized the way it was folded—four times, a rectangle that would fit perfectly into the top pocket of the scrubs her mother wore to work. Her work notes frequently littered the house. They were always falling out of her pockets when she came home, and Cassie would watch her curse, bend over to pick them up, and then rip them to shreds before she threw them away. Cassie walked over to it, bent to snatch it up off the floor and was just about to tear it up for her mother when she stopped, seeing the untidy scrawl of a name she recognized.
J. Evans. Female.
And then in big letters next to that: DOA.
Her heart stopped, and she fell to the bench in the middle of the hall, the wood hard beneath her. That was good, it grounded her, at least enough for her to unfold the rest of the note.
It was covered in writing: her mother’s patient schedule from last night, room assignments, random numbers that could have been weights or blood pressures or pulses—Cassie never knew which—and a list of findings on the body of J. Evans.
tib/fib micro fracture bilat
Tox screen: clear
lacerations bilat to feet, edema, bruising
rocks imbedded
The last line had been underlined, the pen pressed down hard. Cassie struggled to focus on the words, tried to make them make sense, but the paper started to shake, her hands trembling, and it fell from her fingers, landing face down on the carpet.
She knew what DOA meant, had heard countless stories from her mother about the men and women that were brought into the ER, too far gone for even the most advanced medicine, electric shocks, or any amount of chest thumping to bring them back. Dead On Arrival.
What were the chances that J. Evans was someone else? Someone not in her class, someone she hadn’t played softball with since she was five-years-old, someone who wasn’t dancing around a fire in the woods not even eight hours ago.
Panic was rising in Cassie, a surge of fear and guilt. She was with Jessica, maybe she was the last person with her. But she was alive then! Healthy and snarky and kind of a bitch, but alive. Wonderfully alive. Part of a Cassie refused to believe it, refused to consider that J. Evans was really Jessica Evans, that the girl she partied with last night was cold and unmoving, stuck in a cold drawer in the basement of the h
ospital.
Cassie trembled all over, blood rushing in her ears. She had to get to the hospital. She had to get to her mother and find out if J. Evans was really Jessica, if it was her fault her friend was dead.
At the thought, a surge of overwhelming guilt and anger coursed through her. Her jaw clenched, and her fingers curled to grip the edge of the bench, only one person on her mind. Jude. The carnie she knew was dangerous, was trouble.
He did it.
If it really was Jessica lying there, cold, in that hospital, then it was Jude who put her there.
She needed to see her mother, see the confused look settle over her features when Cassie asked and the cock of her head when she realized what her daughter meant, and then the bemused but wry grin as she explained. No, it was a different girl, not your friend. Not Jessica Evans.
Something sharp and painful twisted in Cassie’s chest. Some niggling feeling that she’d never get to see her mother’s face make that transition. She had to see her, to know if it was Jessica, to know if it was her fault for not dragging her bodily from the fire.
Cassie raced to her room, shedding pajamas along the way. She pulled on the first clothes she could find, worn jeans and a hoodie, pulling her hair up in a messy approximation of a bun. Her sneakers were in the hall, and she paused long enough to shove her feet in them before bounding back out into the weak sunlight, not even bothering to tell her father she’d been home.
The image of Jessica’s face beat behind her eyelids and Cassie blinked rapidly, trying to dispel it. She didn’t bother knocking at Laney’s, just threw open the door and ran up the stairs. Her parents always slept in on Sundays anyway.
Laney was still in bed when Cassie burst into the room. “Get up,” she said, her voice cold. The vision of Jessica’s face was taunting and sharp, and the fear that she was gone, truly gone, terrified Cassie. She felt a surge of anger toward her best friend, Laney, who was always defending the carnies. She stirred under the covers, groaning a bit.