Of the Trees Page 16

  “I mean, if I lost my best friend, I’d just die, I swear!”

  “Aw!”

  Cassie bristled as anger surged through her. “Out!” she yelled, and when no one moved, save to send her a brief, annoyed glare, she lunged toward them and ripped one of the girls back by her hair.

  “Get out!” she screamed, pulling the girl to the bathroom door. Her friends followed like magnets, screeching at her. It was deafening, their voices loud and high and echoing off the tile. The crowd in the hall was lessening, Cassie noticed as she wrenched the heavy wood door open. She shoved the one girl out, her hand firm on the door until the others followed. As soon as they were all free of the doorway, she slammed it shut, the bang reverberating off the tiles and leaving a ringing in her ears.

  She pressed her back to the door, hearing a faint huff from the outside and another rude comment, but the girls left, heels clacking almost as loud as their tongues as they made their way down the hall.

  In the sudden quiet of the bathroom, she heard a small sniff. She felt her knees shake and give, and Cassie let herself slide down the door until she sat on the cold floor. It was grimy and probably filthy, a stupid place to sit, but the door was secure. No one was coming, and other than the soft sniffing of Rebecca holding back tears, it was finally quiet.

  “It’s been like that all morning,” Rebecca confessed. Cassie looked up. Rebecca stood just in front of the sinks; she hadn’t moved since the girls first opened the door with a bang. Her shoulders fell, and she sniffed again, swiping angrily at her building tears. She took a step forward, and then another, seeming encouraged by the steady gaze Cassie kept on her. She pressed her back to the door, sliding to sit next to Cassie, their hips just barely grazing.

  “I just can’t believe this is all real,” Rebecca whispered. Words crashed together in Cassie’s head, none of them right, all of them vapid and selfish and stupid. So she didn’t let them out. She just sat, quiet and still, and listened as Rebecca’s breath got more and more erratic. She reached a hand over and clasped the stricken girl’s fingers, squeezing tightly. Rebecca broke, tears coating her cheeks. She wept freely, her forehead coming to rest on Cassie’s shoulder. Cassie sat quietly, her hand a firm lifeline, her voice silent, as a few of her own tears leaked out to join Rebecca’s.

  Cassie checked the hall, making sure there were no stragglers left ditching classes before she led Rebecca out and to the main office. Jane Keller looked up from the front desk, her mouth quirking in what was probably supposed to be a sympathetic smile that came out as more of a grimace. She looked between the girls. Without a word, she put her head down, scribbling something on the paper in front of her.

  “I’ll let your teachers know you’ve gone home sick,” she said, nodding toward the front door. She slid passes over the top of the desk. Cassie nodded her thanks as she took them, never so relieved to be able to get out of school.

  “Let my dad know I’ll call him?”

  “Will do,” she answered, shooing them out.

  Cassie dragged Rebecca by her shirt sleeve. By the time they got to her car, Rebecca was shaking and silent tears shone on her cheeks again. Cassie took the keys from her friend’s hand. She opened the passenger side door and watched Rebecca slide in before crossing in front of the car. From there, she could see the bits of paper on the oak tree, the stuffed animals, and the flowers. They looked lonely. She didn’t suppose Jessica would really care either way. The wind kicked up, and Cassie shivered, actually feeling cold for the first time that day.

  She headed out of town, sighing in relief when their car sped across the border. Their whole town felt tainted, and Cassie just wanted to be rid of it. She drove for twenty minutes before Rebecca spoke up, her voice croaking as she bit out her question.

  “Where are we going?”

  “A burger place I know,” Cassie answered. Rebecca let it drop, resting her head on the window again. Ryan had introduced her to the restaurant. They ate there during the summer. It was a popular destination for hikers, and several times they had run into men who were taking a break from working on their thru-hike. They were unshaven and sweating, but grinning like madmen. Cassie remembered the thrill that coursed through her, wondering what Ryan would look like bearded, thinking that she’d like to see it.

  It was empty today, only two cars in the lot. Cassie thought they likely belonged to the cook and servers. Their waitress waved about in airy disinterest, indicating that they could take any seat they wanted. Cassie and Rebecca slid into a booth, sitting opposite each other. They both ordered a burger, not bothering to look at the menu, and sat in silence while they waited. A radio played in the kitchen, the soft twang of country music drifted toward the front of the restaurant.

  “Were you with her at all?” Rebecca asked. “You know, that night?” She was staring out the window, her fingers spinning a dented metal spoon in circles on the red checkered tabletop. She glanced briefly across the table. Cassie nodded.

  “She said she was getting a ride home with you,” Rebecca continued. Cassie stiffened.

  “She said the same to me,” Cassie said softly. “Pretty much told me to screw off and that she’d find you.” They both allowed themselves a small, sad smile at just how much like Jessica that was, playing friends off each other so that neither would worry about her and she would be left alone to do what she wanted. She wasn’t a bad person. She just liked to have her fun.

  “This just sucks,” Rebecca said. Her voice cracked, and she released a hysterical little laugh. The waitress looked up from behind the counter, eyeing the girls before returning to her magazine. Cassie had no answer, other than the obvious “Yeah, it does,” so she kept silent, allowing the other girl a moment to grieve, to anger, to feel without the constant scrutiny she must have been facing.

  Their burgers arrived, the waitress dumping their plates on the table with loud clanks. Both had a pile of fries almost covering the plate. Cassie pulled a fry out, nibbling on its end. She wasn’t really hungry. Rebecca pushed her plate away entirely, looking queasy.

  “Thanks for before,” Rebecca said. She put her elbows on the table and leaned forward, her head in her hands. “In the bathroom.”

  Cassie shrugged, throwing her half-eaten fry back on her plate. The grease from the burger was pooling around the bun, saturating it. She felt her stomach roil in discomfort and sat back in the booth.

  “Are you going—” Cassie started and then stopped. Rebecca looked up at her in question. “I mean, it’s gonna be soon, isn’t it?”

  “The wake?” Rebecca supplied. Cassie sucked in a quick breath and nodded. “Yeah, it’s Friday night. They needed extra time for the autopsy.” She sighed and sat back. Cassie grimaced.

  “I’ll go with you,” she said. “If you want. Drive over with you and your family, I mean.”

  “I’d like that, thanks,” Rebecca murmured. She tore a piece off her burger and popped it in her mouth. It looked like she chewed with difficulty. Cassie could sympathize. Every bite felt like it was going down like concrete.

  The waitress came over to check on them, frowning when she saw neither girl was really eating. Cassie forced a grin, and she retreated back behind the counter. The bell over the door chimed, and two men came in; Cassie recognized them immediately as hikers, their bags overstuffed and dirty. They left them propped by the door and immediately ordered enough food for four, laughing as they collapsed into a booth.

  Rebecca seemed oblivious to their entrance, blinking back into realization when one of them swore after knocking over his glass of water.

  “I heard you talked to the cops,” Rebecca said, picking at her food again. Cassie nodded, chewing slowly through a fry.

  “Yeah, you?” Cassie answered. Rebecca nodded. “I thought I should. I was with her. And there’s Jude.”

  “Who?”

  “That big guy,” Cassie started, but Rebecca interrupted.

  “From St. Paul’s? Jess said his name
was Judoc.” She must have noticed Cassie’s confused expression because she shrugged. “I know, I thought it was a weird name, too. That’s why I remember it. She said she wanted to hang out with Judoc, that she’d met him before, and that she’d make sure she caught a ride home from you and Laney.”

  “Laney called him Jude. We met them at the carnival. Him and Corey and a few of the others, I think.” Cassie frowned at the table top. “I didn’t recognize him at first, at the dance I mean.”

  Rebecca didn’t seem fazed by this; her gaze was back to the window. “Well, everyone was in masks.”

  “I guess,” Cassie said. “I don’t think they go to St. Paul’s,” she said, almost as an afterthought. The thought had been buzzing around in her brain for a while. She couldn’t understand why Laney would say that they did. Well, no, she could. If Cassie had known from the beginning that they were the carnies from a few weeks ago, she would have kicked up a huge fit about Laney making out with one of them in her yard. The innocuous Corey, a student Laney happened to bump into in their friendly, neighborhood, haunted cemetery, caused little to no speculation. Cassie felt both idiotic and used.

  What bothered her even more than that though, was why she hadn’t recognized any of them sooner. She had seen Corey at the carnival! She had seen Aidan and had been glared at by Jude. How did she not see that these were the same men?

  And they were men. Young as Corey looked, he was an adult. No teenager could travel a carnival route, working weekends and transporting broken down rides from little town to little town. Aidan was relentless and aggressive. His actions toward Cassie alone, his confidence as he let his hands rove her body, spoke of experience that was beyond any teenager Cassie knew. There was no question that Jude, Judoc, or whatever his real name was, was an adult. A menacing, vicious adult. At the very least, he abandoned Jessica somewhere drunk, essentially letting something dangerous and lethal happen to her. At the worst, he killed her himself.

  But none of that—realizing that Laney had lied to her, figuring out that they weren’t students at the high school in the next town over, knowing they worked the carnie circuit, probably cutting back to their town to prey on susceptible, willing girls like Laney and Jessica—none of that explained why Cassie hadn’t recognized them immediately. There had been something, some flash, some displacement of their features, like a flame to wax, slowly shifting and molding and melting. Cassie had seen it, but she had been drinking and then the voices, whispers in the night, pounded into her brain, erased everything and replaced it with the urgency to go. Go and run and leave the carnies and the woods and the pushy, grabby hands far behind her.

  “They looked too old to be students,” Rebecca said with a flippancy that suggested it didn’t matter, that she hadn’t been fooled by them from the beginning.

  “Well, Corey didn’t,” Cassie said. She pushed her plate away, giving up on any pretense that she was hungry. “And Aidan.”

  “That guy that was staring at you?” Rebecca asked. She brought her gaze from the window and directed it straight at Cassie. “He was solidly in his twenties. He had to be. Even in that picture—”

  Cassie cringed in her seat, pursing her lips to hold back a groan. That picture. She hadn’t seen it yet. For anyone to have even bothered to show it to Rebecca, it must have been awful.

  “I mean, c’mon, Cass! Have you seen the picture Jon took? It’s pretty, well,” she trailed off, her hand waving about in a vague circle. Cassie wasn’t sure she even wanted to see the picture the rest of the school was talking about. She wasn’t even sure when it was taken. Suddenly, she wondered if the police had seen it. They would question everyone who was there that night, wouldn’t they? If the police knew about it, would her parents? It was hard to keep anything from her father, especially since students were gossiping around him all day. Hopefully, he wouldn’t pick up on it.

  Although, maybe the police should examine the picture. They’d have a photograph of Aidan then, something solid on which to start to build a case and look for Jude. He wouldn’t be found at St. Paul’s; of that she was certain. But if they took the picture to the carnival and possibly got a full name for the man last seen with Jessica, that could help.

  “Could you, I mean in the picture, could you see his face?” Cassie asked, hope flaring. Rebecca frowned and then shook her head.

  “Not really, it was kind of from the back. He’s got a broad back. That’s what I mean, he looks so much older than you, even from behind. You could see his hands pretty clearly. Well the one really, the other was … ” Rebecca cleared her throat, regarding Cassie from across the table.

  “You might as well tell me,” Cassie said, slumping into the booth. “I think I’m the only person in the school who hasn’t seen it.”

  “To be fair, I’m pretty sure the janitor hasn’t.” Cassie glared at Rebecca from across the table, and she put her hands up in a gesture of surrender, a small smile playing on her lips. She cleared her throat, and the smile died.

  “Hands?” Cassie asked, directing the conversation back.

  “I could see the one hand clearly, on your chest,” Rebecca said, her gaze wavering between Cassie and the window. “The other was on your leg, kinda high up. Your dress was covering it.”

  “Right,” Cassie said. She drew a deep breath and let it out slowly, the panic she had felt that night overtaking her again. Her chest felt tight and all too clearly she could feel his hands again, warm and firm and demanding. She coughed and slid her palms down her thighs, pressing tightly in an attempt to wipe his touch from her skin. It felt engrained there. “But you couldn’t see his face?”

  Rebecca shook her head. “Just yours. You looked … ”

  “Oh, just lovely, I’m sure,” Cassie said with a snort. Rebecca offered a wry smile.

  “I was going to say happy.”

  Cassie let out a short laugh. “Well, I wasn’t,” she murmured.

  “Don’t let them get to you,” Rebecca suggested, her tone striving for lightness but just missing the mark. Cassie appreciated the effort anyway.

  “I won’t,” she said. “After all, there’s worse—”

  Cassie stopped. The air in the restaurant seemed to stop. The noise of the hikers roared loud in comparison. Of course, there were worse things that could have happened. They had happened. To Jessica Evans. And, by extension, to Rebecca herself.

  Cassie took out her wallet and threw a couple bills on the table. They walked out in silence, not even bothering to answer the waitress as she waved take-out containers at them.

  Cassie went to school the next day because she knew Rebecca would. They had talked about skipping. Neither of their parents would have minded. They fantasized about a day full of bad movies and ice cream, dreaming about the hours they could waste together hanging out in pajamas and eating junk food while all their classmates had to sit through lectures. In the end, they knew that it would make it just that much worse when they had to go back, and though it was depressing, they decided to tough it out together.

  Cassie and Rebecca decided to meet for lunch in the bathroom, which, gross as it was, was infinitely better than trying to find a place to sit in the packed cafeteria where they would be stared at and whispered about. Cassie was also grateful to be somewhere out of range of both Laney and Ryan, who seemed to also not be speaking and therefore commandeering separate corners of the lunchroom. The girls ate mostly in silence, and even then only picking at their food. Cassie had the foresight to write an ‘Out of Order’ sign and tape it to the door. So it was quiet, at least.

  The rest of the week continued, Cassie forcing herself to school each morning, blearily copying assignments and spacing through tests. The teachers seemed sympathetic, at least. Her science teacher “accidentally” dropped the pop quiz she completely failed in the trash bin and said he’d mark her as a pass instead. Cassie appreciated the effort, but she was frustrated with herself. She felt adrift, completely untethered in the maelstrom t
hat was her high school. Rumors flew around, and she caught bits and pieces of them, most of the things she heard about herself were mortifying. She tried to stop listening.

  Laney was an ever constant presence. Not just because they shared a number of classes, either. She was just there, hovering around the lockers, in her yard outside after school, at the softball field whenever Cassie would drift over to see the pathetic memorial of pink teddy bears that grew matted and gross from the elements. Cassie ignored her, hurt and angry. Laney didn’t push it, but she was around, making it known that it was Cassie’s move and that she would wait her out.

  Ryan just ignored her completely.

  She met Rebecca at her house Friday night, her own parents agreeing to meet them at the funeral home. Cassie rode in the back of the Murphy’s sedan, Rebecca squished next to her. Rebecca’s younger brother Jordan sat on his sister’s other side. Jordan was quiet on his best days. When Cassie had first shown up, he had barely been able to mutter hello.

  They arrived half an hour before the doors would open. The line of people waiting to get in wrapped around the small Victorian house that served as the town’s only funeral home. Cassie followed Rebecca’s family around to the back of the building. Jessica’s parents had told them to come in that way.

  They were let in early before the front doors opened and the stream of people who had known Jessica in passing would come to pay their respects. The back entrance was small but well lit. Inside, the cream-colored paint strove for hominess and understanding. Generic nature prints in wooden frames were spaced evenly along the walls. It was silent except for the classical music that drifted from the wall speakers in the front room and the gentle ministrations of a short, middle-aged man in a black suit. The funeral director led them to a hall where Mr. and Mrs. Evans were waiting, their backs to a closed, double door.