Of the Trees Page 5

  Laney trotted along beside her, her mind more at the booths than with her friend.

  “You shouldn’t have lied to them,” Laney said softly. When Cassie looked over, she could see Laney was frowning.

  “What?” she asked, grunting a bit as she pulled Jessica more firmly to her feet. Jessica giggled under the adjustment and kept shuffling toward the parking lot.

  “They knew you were lying. About Jess’s dad, I mean. You shouldn’t have done that.”

  “I just wanted to get out of there without getting attacked!” Cassie argued, scowling at her friend. “And you weren’t helping. You don’t see a problem with grown men offering beer to teenage girls? With getting one of them piss drunk? Seriously, Laney?”

  Laney didn’t answer, but she did move to take Jessica’s other arm, shifting the weight a bit so that it wasn’t just Cassie hefting her through the now empty carnival. Her car was close, just outside the light cast from the nearest spotlight. It wasn’t until they moved from the muddy grass of the field to the gravel of the parking lot that Cassie remembered what her father had texted her.

  Get Ryan to walk you to your car.

  With the memory of those words glowing on her phone screen, came another memory. A man with a black hood up and hanging just over his eyes. Older, and yet young, and that same air of confusion, of incongruence between his lined, sallow skin and the stance of his body. Trepidation dancing along her spine.

  Carnies, Cassie thought dismissively. She deposited Jessica onto the back seat of Laney’s car and got in the passenger side, a rush of relief coming over her as the door slammed shut.

  On the drive back home, Laney came back to herself. It was almost like she had been drunk and in a stupor. Her bizarre excitement was out of the norm, but now that she was away from the carnival, she had settled back into herself.

  Jessica stayed drunk.

  She hummed and whistled the entire way to her house, giggling madly between choruses. Cassie turned in the passenger seat to look back at her, worried about her getting sick, but she didn’t seem sick, she seemed euphoric. The few words she could catch between the whistling and the slurs were out of place and didn’t seem to match the night that Cassie had stumbled into.

  “Wasn’t he, Laney? Hot, right?” Jessica dissolved into breathy giggles. “Mhmm, was. Delicious.”

  Cassie turned from Jessica, her attention shifting to Laney. “Was there someone else she was with? Or just the old, fat carnie?”

  Laney smiled, her lips curling in a secretive manner. “I mean, we were hanging with a few guys, but yeah, Jess stuck mostly with Jude.”

  Cassie wrinkled her nose. “You said he looked like a drug dealer.”

  “He wasn’t.” Laney shrugged, her eyes on the road.

  “No. No, he was,” Jessica slurred. She sprang forward in her seat, a move Cassie would have sworn two minutes ago would have been completely impossible for her inebriated friend. “Definitely drugs. Good, powerful drugs.”

  “Jess, shut up and sit back,” Laney said, frowning at the girl in the rearview mirror. Cassie watched Jessica fall back, spraying the interior cabin with a fine mist of alcoholic spit as she laughed. “Do I turn here?”

  Cassie faced the windshield again, squinting at the road signs in the dark. “No, next one.”

  She had only been to Jessica’s house once, a pasta supper before last year’s state game, but she remembered the road. Laney took the next left and then another at Cassie’s indication and then Jessica was leaning into their seats again, pointing ahead at a blue colonial with the front porch light still on.

  “Think she’ll be okay?”

  “You mean in the next few hours or in the long run?” Laney asked with an infuriating smirk.

  “Obviously in the next few hours,” Cassie said. “Why? What did the fat guy give her?”

  “Nothing!” Laney answered, looking shocked that Cassie would even suggest such a thing. “She had a couple beers, that’s all.”

  “I’ve seen Jess on a couple beers,” Cassie remarked. “She gets snarky and can be kind of a bitch. Nothing like tonight.”

  “Sounds like tonight was an improvement then,” Laney said.

  “I am not a bitch!”

  “See, Cass? She’s not a bitch,” Laney said, grinning. “Here you are, Jess. Can you make it?”

  Jessica stumbled out of the car and toward the front door.

  “Should we walk her?” Cassie asked, watching Jessica weave through the headlights. Laney shrugged, not seeming too concerned, but not pulling out yet either. “Honk the horn, at least.”

  “Why?” Laney asked, pulling a face. “We’d wake the neighbors.”

  Cassie rolled her eyes and leaned over her friend, jamming her palm into the center of the steering wheel. The horn blared loudly in the silence of the night. Somewhere inside Jessica’s house, a light flared. Jessica turned and stuck her tongue out at the car, squinting into the head beams.

  Jessica had an older sister, Anna. With luck, the horn would have woken her, and she could check on Jessica. Worst case scenario, her parents would find her, but even that was better than her passing out in a pile of her own vomit. Which, Cassie thought, without someone’s help, she just might.

  “Wanna crash at my place tonight?” Laney asked through a yawn as she pulled the car out of Jessica’s driveway.

  “Yeah, sure,” Cassie agreed with a nod, letting her own head fall back against the headrest. The ride to Laney’s wasn’t far. Cassie texted her mom on the way there, letting her know she wasn’t coming home. She got a reply before Laney put the car in park, telling her not to forget breakfast tomorrow. Even if she wanted to, Cassie couldn’t have forgotten. Sunday morning breakfast was a thing with her parents, the one time a week they insisted that the entire family sit and eat together.

  Cassie got out of the car and followed Laney, jumping up her porch steps. They both stopped just inside the foyer, kicking their shoes off. The lights were already dimmed, and Cassie crept through the living room. She was already up the stairs, heading toward Laney’s room when she heard her friend tell her sleeping parents that she was home.

  Laney’s room was hot; the solitary window was closed, and the air was heavy and still. Cassie scooted past the queen-sized bed and yanked the window open. The old wooden frame protested initially, squeaking its resistance, but gave in eventually and slid open faster than Cassie expected. She pitched forward a bit, catching herself against the frame. There was no screen. Laney’s mother had taken them out last week for cleaning. The air was clean and cool though, the summer bugs mostly gone. Cassie gave one quick look to the dark yard, the old wooden swing swaying feebly, Mr. Blake’s tomato plants sagging in their beds, before leaving the window and facing the bed.

  Laney’s bed was massive, it dominated her room. She had a laundry bin in the corner, but most of the clothes she threw never made it there. Cassie shoved a pile of half-folded clothes from the end of the bed to the floor, picking out a pair of pajama bottoms first. She was already kicking her jeans off when Laney came in.

  “Yeah, sure,” she said. “Help yourself.”

  Cassie made a face at her, not pausing in pulling the cotton pants up. Laney shrugged and rummaged around her dresser for pajamas herself. Cassie waited until they were both under covers, and Laney had flicked the light off before she spoke.

  “You really freaked me out tonight,” Cassie muttered. Laney groaned, pulling the covers over her head. “I’m serious! Those guys were twice our age.”

  She could feel the rumbled laughter coming from Laney. “More than that, I think,” she said, peeking from over the top of her comforter. Her eyes were bright, even in the dim moonlight that filtered through the room. Cassie rose up to one elbow.

  “That’s what I mean,” she insisted. “They were way too old for both of us. Jess, too. And you would have taken that drink if I hadn’t—”

  “Oh, no!” Laney interrupted, her e
yes wide with mock trepidation. “I almost drank from a sealed bottle of brand name beer! It could have been factory labeled poison! What was I thinking?”

  Cassie huffed, falling back on the bed while Laney dissolved into giggles. “Very funny.”

  “You’re just such a hypocrite,” Laney pressed, rolling to her stomach, her face turned toward Cassie. She swept her hand around her head, tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. “You just had spiked lemonade the other day. There’s no difference.”

  “Yes, there is,” Cassie hissed. “There were no strange men there, just us. And that was from Ryan.”

  “Ah, so it comes back to Ryan,” Laney said, eyebrows raised.

  “What? No,” Cassie said, shaking her head. “That’s not what I—”

  “Why do you think he hasn’t asked you out, yet?” Laney mused, grinning at her friend. Cassie grabbed a pillow and smacked Laney in the face. Laney clutched it and used it to muffle her laughter. “You think it’s ’cause you dated Jon?”

  “That was five years ago!”

  “Best friends rule,” Laney said, shrugging.

  “I still say nothing counts in seventh grade,” Cassie argued.

  “So Lance is back in play then?”

  Cassie groaned, but it quickly changed to laughter remembering the boy she had “dated.” He asked her out via note, and they spoke only twice before she broke it off. Or, to be more accurate, had Laney pass him a note that did it for her. “All yours,” she said.

  “So why don’t you just ask him out?” Laney pressed, watching Cassie over the pillow she hugged to her chest.

  “Lance?”

  “You know who I mean!”

  Cassie shrugged, taking her pillow from Laney and burrowing back into it. She knew Laney would be staring at her and was thankful for the dim light. “I don’t want to,” she murmured.

  “Don’t want to ask or don’t want to go out with him?”

  “Either. Both.”

  “Liar,” Laney said. Cassie gritted her teeth. “You notice how he touches you, all the time, right?” When Cassie didn’t answer, Laney continued. “And you’re all over him, too.”

  “I am not!”

  “Please! The other night, at his place, you were lying across the couch, your feet in his lap.”

  “I was tired.”

  “He was giving you a foot massage! Who does that?”

  “He’s my best friend, Laney,” Cassie bit out, exasperation coloring her tone.

  “Oh, thanks a lot!”

  “You know what I mean,” she continued, shaking her head. “It’d be weird.”

  “It’d be hot,” Laney argued. “He’s changed a lot over the past few years. As his best friend, you must have noticed.”

  Cassie had noticed. As Laney said, as his best friend, it would be hard not to. He was taller than her now, he hadn’t always been. His frame was still lanky, but his build had filled out a bit. It became obvious around sophomore year that he wasn’t letting his mother pick out his clothes anymore. His hair, once cut in a close crop, had grown out. He had gorgeous hair, soft and straight, and it fell so perfectly over his eyes.

  His deep, brown eyes.

  Cassie caught herself, but not before Laney noticed her thoughts drifting off. She was leaning over, staring her down with a smirk.

  “Whatever,” Cassie mumbled. “Shut up.”

  She heard the breathy laugh of her friend next to her and then the mattress dipped. She caught an elbow to her ribs as Laney clambered over her.

  “What the hell?” Cassie complained, shoving her friend off. Laney ignored her. Her bare feet landed in soft thuds on the carpet, and the window pane creaked as she leaned into it. Cool air blew past her and the smell of autumn—of leaves turning crisp, life leaking from the foliage and draining the green—mingled with her natural scent of lavender. It saturated the air around them.

  “Thought I heard something,” Laney said, her body leaning into the fresh air. Cassie turned on her side and watched her. Laney’s hair hung past her shoulders, her outline silver in the moonlight.

  “What are you looking for?” Cassie asked, her voice low. Laney didn’t turn. The breeze caught at her hair and, in a small gust, sent it flying back from her face. Cassie could just make out the small grin playing on her lips.

  “Me?” Laney whispered back, staring out into the night. “Not a thing.”

  Laney came slowly back to bed, crawling under the covers without a word. Cassie looked toward the open window frame; the curtain now hung limp. Something drew her eye. She sat up, her elbows propped behind her for support, staring toward the open window and the black sky behind it. She frowned, her attention diverted as Laney rustled in the covers next to her.

  “What’s the matter with you? Lay down,” Laney grunted. Cassie hummed in response, laying back slowly. The soft scent of the laundry detergent Mrs. Blake used wafted from the pillow. Cassie let her eyes slide shut and inhaled deeply, settling down to sleep. The scent of laundry detergent heightened the lingering effects of the perfume Laney had used. Lavender soothed her. The air smelled sharply of pine, the pungent resin flavoring the air and swirling through the room in cooling wafts. There was something more, something sweet mixed with the pine, something fresh and soft. Cassie sat up again and looked toward the window once more. At the corner of the window sill, nearly toppling out the second story window, a small glass perched half full of water. Plunged into the water was the stem of a freshly picked wildflower, the purple petals dark in the moonlight. Cassie felt a frown slip over her features, not remembering seeing that when she came into the room.

  “What is up with you? Go to sleep!” Laney hissed, startling her.

  “Sorry,” Cassie murmured, laying back. An unsettling suspicion took residence in her chest. “Thought I saw something.”

  Laney grunted in response but said no more. It wasn’t until after her friend had lapsed into the rhythmic breathing that comes with sleep that Cassie remembered she hadn’t told her about the Ferris wheel.

  The flower had wilted by morning. Cassie woke, the sun bright past Laney’s open window. She startled out of sleep, her eyes immediately drawn to the windowsill. The water was still clear and miniature bubbles clung in rows up the side of the glass. The flower had drooped, the stalk bent in a low arc. The petals, bright purple last night, were faded and limp.

  “You staying for breakfast?” Laney asked, her voice muffled from the other side of the bed. Cassie shook her head, knowing Laney understood when she issued a mumbled reply. Laney burrowed further into the bed as Cassie rolled out, bending to pull on her boots.

  Laney’s parents were still asleep, so Cassie walked slowly down the stairs and out into the weak morning sunlight. Even at this early hour, Cassie knew her parents would be up, bacon sizzling on the griddle.

  The air was crisp, still tinted with the saturated dew that seemed to spring out of the earth each morning. The bottom of the pajama pants she stole from Laney were now damp, her shoes squeaking in the grass as she crossed from Laney’s front yard to her own. The porch light was still on—her father must have forgotten to turn it off last night. Cassie stooped to pick up the plastic-wrapped newspaper that was laying on her front step. They were probably the last people on the face of the earth receiving news this way, Cassie thought. She knocked the paper on the door jamb as she opened the door and a cascade of water droplets flew from the plastic. With the door open, the crisp air of morning swirled in past her to meet with the aroma of frying bacon. She could hear her parents rummaging in the kitchen; someone dropped a spatula and her mother’s soft swear followed. She grinned as she shut the door behind her. Her mother always pretended to scowl whenever Cassie let an errant curse slip out, yet she had the dirtiest mouth in the house.

  “Morning,” she greeted, sliding into the kitchen and tossing the newspaper to her father. He thanked her and asked about the carnival in the same breath. Cassie shrugged, reaching for t
he orange juice that her mother had already put out on the table.

  “Your father said someone was giving you trouble in the parking lot,” her mother said, her tone accusatory as she stared Cassie down over the steaming griddle. A small heap of pancakes was already piled on a plate next to her, and three eggs were currently frying on the hot metal. Cassie shrugged, grunting around her swallow of orange juice. She decided in that moment not to tell them about the broken ride, especially if they were going to get upset over some guy asking her for a light in the parking lot. “You should have had Ryan meet you.”

  “I wasn’t meeting Ryan,” Cassie said, pulling a face at her father who stayed stoically behind the now-opened newspaper. “I was meeting Laney.”

  “So, Ryan wasn’t there, hmm?” her mother asked, tilting her head and staring Cassie down over her glasses. Cathy Harris’ hair was mussed, she hadn’t showered yet, and there were lines etched into the creases by her eyes. It was probably a long night at the hospital for her. And yet, even mussed up and looking exhausted, she managed a knowing slant to her smile, half-accusation and half-insight that Cassie did not yet have access to.

  “No, he and Jon were both there, but—”

  “Groups are safer,” her mother interrupted, flipping an egg.

  “You know, technically,” Cassie started, reaching over the back of her chair and snatching a strip of bacon, “Ryan isn’t a group. He’s just one—”

  “One boy who’s a head taller than you, stronger, and would do anything to protect you,” her mother interjected. Cassie felt her cheeks flame red, stuffed the bacon in her mouth, and chose to ignore her mother in favor of chewing. She kept her eyes on her empty plate, listening for the tell-tale clinking of dishes being dropped on the table before she brought her gaze up, confident that by that point, her mother’s knowing smirk would have dissipated. Her head jerked up instead at a low whistle issued from her father.

  “What?”