by Blair Burden
Chapter 8
August 16
Mama was gawking at me with her intense doll eyes. Everyone said her eyes told a story and that was a fact. The wrinkles around her eyes told more of a story to me—mainly because my name was the cause.
She rubbed her trembling hands on her pink waitress uniform and began to sob again. “You can’t keep doing this to me,” she said as she bit her pink full lips. “I can’t keep this going! I do not see why you are so depressed. I work a nine to five job—technically seven to ten job but you don’t care—”
“Mama, just shut up!” I shouted as loud as I could. “Can you just leave?” I rubbed my throat in pain and Mama began to cry again.
“I’m sorry, Cassie,” she whimpered. “Baby, you’re all I have—” Her cell phone rang and she pushed ignore.
I rolled my eyes. “You paid your cell phone bill,” I said.
“I got some money from someone.”
“From who, Mama? Who would give you money?”
“I have to go; I’m not going to argue with you again.”
“You could have fooled me.”
“I almost lost you this time. I can’t even look at you. When you were born—”
“I know, I know—”
“No, listen to me! When you were born, you were the happiest baby ever. That made me the happiest mommy ever too. As a child you were so joyful as well. I would think of how blessed I was to have a child like you.”
“Things have happened since then, Mama,” I snapped. “Lots of things!”
“But...”
“Yes, I can still be happy, but it would be pretend. Would you like me to fake a smile? How would you like it if I strolled around town with the rudest smile?”
“Anything but this,” she muttered. “However, I would rather know how you feel.”
“Exactly,” I cried. “So, stop saying how I used to be. This is how I am now!”
“Gosh, I don't know what to do with you.”
I turned my body in the opposite direction, staring at the cars on the highway. “Are you really going to go to work while your daughter is dying in the hospital?”
“Work means money, plus you’re not dying.” She grabbed her jacket and handbag and walked over to my bedside. “You stay put.”
I looked out the dirty window, trying to avoid her eye contact. “I always do,” I said.
Mama kissed my cheek and walked out the room. It was quiet again without her doglike whimpers. As I thought about Mama, my mind began to think about the other things that were controlling my life. You’ve failed once again. Failure should be your middle name. Don’t listen to her Cassie. We all know Mandy is just bitter!
I grabbed the sheets and covered my ears to block out the voices. “Why are you guys here? Go somewhere else. Bother someone else—just not me!” I tried to hold my composure that I would be in the hospital for a while, hearing their voices, and thinking about the failure I had become. If it were up to the hospital, they would hold me longer, if the digits on the bill grew bigger. They didn’t care about me or the situation I was in.
I’m sure that little fit you threw at my memorial is all over YouTube. You’re an embarrassment. I cannot believe we were once best friends.
“That’s it!” I ripped out the needles and the tape off my arm and got out of the hospital bed. I was not going to stay in that hospital bed all week—I had important things to do—I couldn’t miss the entire first week of school.
I pulled my handheld mirror up to my face and traced my fingers along the blemishes. My lips looked bigger than usual. I hated that. It always looked as if I had lipstick on with tons of collagen injections. I had people come up to me and ask who my plastic surgeon was—unusual, but funny at times. Then I looked at my skin—ten times duller than what it should have been.
I put on my ripped shorts and my plaid shirt. I tore the tape off my Converse tennis shoes that had them connected and put them on without socks because I had no idea where they were.
I checked both directions outside the room and no one was around. I hurried off the floor for the “mentally disturbed” people and went onto the elevator.
“Cassie?” said a nurse as he chased me onto the elevator.
“What?” I snapped as I pushed floor 1.
“Leaving early again?”
I smiled. “Like always!”
“I seriously don’t feel like hearing your mother moan that this hospital let you check out again.”
It’s not like she cares anyway. “I’m not checking out,” I said sarcastically. “I’m leaving.”
“Why?” he chuckled as he rolled his eyes. “You get to miss school! Who wouldn’t want that?”
“I actually like attending school—it is the only place I can be in peace. Besides the skanky girls and the annoying boy, I like it there better than here.”
“Why?” he asked as the elevator doors opened.
“Because I don’t have to deal with jerks like you.”
Did I mention I had a very bitter sense of humor? I was horrible with being social or being “nice.” But, I assume everyone knew that by now. Everything I said came off as an attitude problem—which it was.
“I’m glad you’re leaving then,” he said as he walked in the opposite direction off the elevator. “But you’ll be back.”
I sighed and I looked at the clock on my cell phone. Within ten minutes the nurses and doctors would realize I left, then they would call Mama, and she would have to come down to the school and try to convince me to go back to the hospital. It was always the same thing.
I rubbed my arms because I began to feel cold. I hated the weather in Simon, Idaho. She was very moody. And I say she because the weather is always PMSing. Maybe she had a Mandy who bugged the hell out of her too—or maybe a disgustingly ill Mama.
I checked my cell phone again and I still did not have any calls or texts. I sighed as I arrived to the front steps of Simon High—the school that I would be eaten alive in. As I walked up the first step to the entrance, I felt someone grab my shoulder.
“Cassidy?”
“Yes?” I said as I turned around to realize it was Mr. Rivers, the school counselor.
“What are you doing back on school campus?” he gasped.
“You act like I’m banned from school…I’m not banned, right?”
“Well…” He scratched his short-slicked back hair in uneasiness. “Come into my office.”
“For what?” I snapped as he pulled me into the empty halls (everyone was already in class). I pulled away from his grip, “I can walk by myself.” I followed behind throughout Building A, until we arrived at his office.
“Come in and sit down,” he said as he threw his books on his table and turned on his computer.
Mr. Rivers was a typical young adult man who probably would rather be working as a photographer for models in Spain, but yet he worked with hormonal teens in Idaho. I did not like him much because he was always in my business. The only thing I did like about him was that he had a nice pair of aqua colored eyes and nice pearly white teeth—and he was dark and tall.
He sighed, and handed me Mandy’s memorial book. “Cassidy, I don’t think it’s right for you to be here.”
“Why not?” I said and handed him back the book, not wanting to look at it.
“Well, did we not forget about what happened at the memorial service?”
“I know that was very inappropriate.”
“Not only was it inappropriate but her parents were there. I think that’s the last thing they want to hear—how evil their daughter was. I mean, it was no secret,” he laughed.
“You believe me when I said M was mean to me?” I beamed.
“M?”
“I don’t want to say her name…”
Anxiously, he began to dig through file papers on his disorganized desk. “I don’t think that is a part of the grieving stage,” he smiled as he found the paper he was looking for. “You’re in the anger stage—”
&nbs
p; “I’m not in the anger stage, if that is even a stage. I just don’t want to talk about her anymore.”
His sweet smile dropped and he leaned in closer to me. “Why not?”
I took a deep breath and leaned back. “Because if I say her name, she will just keep talking again—”
“Talking?” he gasped. “Like you hear her voice?”
“Yes! That’s what I have been trying to say!”
“Does your physician know about this?”
“Yes, my mother knows too; everyone should know this.”
“That’s interesting,” he said with a huge smile on his face. “And what types of things does she say?”
“Mean things to me.” I put my head down in shame. “You probably think I’m crazy.”
“No, I don’t. I understand, Cassidy. I really do,” he smiled and put his hand over mine. “I promise I am not judging you. I completely know what you’re talking about.”
I removed my hand from his, and sat on it to avoid another awkward moment. “No you don’t. It’s not just her voice I hear; I also hear my father’s voice.”
“And what does he say to you?”
“He is more calmer and mellow, but M’s is just so loud and rude. I wish she would just leave me alone—I wish both of them would leave me alone.”
“Well, forgetting they exist isn’t going to make them go away.”
“I don’t want to remember M like that—”
“Like what?”
“Mean—just mean to me. I cannot remember when she was nice to me. I just hear mean.”
“Maybe you and M need to talk—”
“Are you crazy?” I laughed. “I can’t believe you’re even talking to me about this. We sound insane right now.”
“Well, it’s not like I have anything better to say. What do you want me to do?”
“Tell me to get a life and leave you alone,” I snapped. “That would make me feel better—”
“That would also make me like every other person in your life.”
“True, but that’s all I know.”
“You have a lot going on—”
“And you’re barely figuring that out?” I laughed.
Mr. Rivers paused as the bell for third period rang. “We can make this a daily thing—it’s not like I have anything better to do besides research the stages of grief,” he laughed.
“What do you mean a daily thing?” I said, while rocking in my seat.
“Let’s talk to each other. So, instead of you doing makeup at your locker, don’t be shy and just come talk to me.”
“And talk about what?”
“More about the voices and I don’t know…grief?”
“Well, I guess so. So, that means I can go to class today?”
“I don’t think you should go today, maybe tomorrow.”
“No, I can’t go back home—not there,” I whispered.
“Why not?”
“It’s a long story that I’ll maybe talk about on one of our daily counseling.”
“Fine then, you can go back to class. Just try not to stand out anymore than you do,” Mr. Rivers said as he got up to walk me out his office. “Tomorrow then?”
“Okay, tomorrow we will talk,” I said and walked out the office and into the halls of my over accumulated high school.
I swallowed hard as I could feel people staring down my throat. The scars on my arm felt like flames burning through my skin. I tried to ignore the looks by humming a song my father used to sing to me. However, I looked even crazier. And in this small town, the simplest thing would have you on the crazy list.
I looked down at my ripped shoes as I sped walked to my locker. I could hear everyone whispering about me, so I blanked out and just listened to the party in my head. Cassidy, just go home—no! Stay at school so you can feel the suffering that I felt when I was murdered. Cassie, you are so selfish. So selfish—
“What are you doing here?” Miss. Thomas smacked my arm, snapping me back to reality. “Girl, you better leave!”
“Rebecca, stop!” I pushed her away as I opened my locker, nearly in tears.
“I’m gonna call, Valeria!” she said as she threatened to dial Mama’s number.
“Becca, I swear…” I cried.
“Ooh Cassie,” she moaned as she hugged me. “I know this is a hard time for you, but I don’t think being here at school is the best thing to do. Everyone is really upset about your whole anger fit.”
“It wasn’t an anger fit. It was the truth.”
Rebecca wiped my tears away. “If you ever need someone to talk to, call me.”
“Don’t you have class to worry about?” I said, trying to change the subject.
“Before we talk about that, I have bad news,” she paused, while twisting my hair, “I’m leaving for about a month with my husband to Brazil today.”
“And you’re barely telling me now?”
“I was gonna tell you yesterday, but…”
“Just go, the bell is going to ring—”
“Okay, I love you, bye!” The late bell rang and Rebecca went running off in her too tight dress to begin her math class.
I grabbed my books out my locker, crashed down into the floor, and watched everyone run to class. I chuckled as one girl slipped out the restroom as she tried to run across the hall. It was amazing to see all the freshmen and sophomores run to class because they thought they would be in trouble for being late. I never ran though, I just always laughed at everyone. Then I would cry when I got a detention slip.
I shut my eyes as the halls became empty. I was not fooling myself—I was dead tired. I should have stayed in the hospital bed but then again I was anal—about everything.
I groaned as the Rat Pack came laughing down the hall. Jordan’s laugh was the most defiant because it was sort of creepy—creepy enough to make me interested in what they were laughing about. I shut my eyes again and acted as if I didn’t see them.
“Emo,” Kyle said.
If that makes them feel better, I thought.
“EMO!” he shouted louder and kicked my shoe.
“Back off!” I snapped.
They all paused, as it was the first time they heard me speak to them, besides taking their order at the bowling center.
The tallest of the bunch, Kyle, threw a paper ball at my nose and it bounced to the floor. I ignored them as they walked off laughing at their immaturity. We were in twelfth grade and I swear they acted as if they were in middle school.
As they turned the corner, I grabbed my huge handheld mirror from my locker and put my red lipstick on. That was something about me that many found interesting. I loved makeup and fashion. For a depressed loner, I wore some of the brightest makeup and clothing. Mama would always joke that I was born in the wrong decade. She would say, “You belong to the 80s.”
I grunted as I spotted Karen turning the corner. I shut my eyes once again as she sat next to me. “Hi, Cassie!” She crossed her legs like me and began to dig around in her handbag for her lipstick. “Are you okay?”
“Shouldn’t you be getting an education?” I asked as I opened my eyes to face her.
“Well, aren’t you too?” she said as she imitated me.
“I suppose. I like art class,” I whispered. “I’ll go to art class.”
“I like art class…mainly because you have it with me,” she sat back against the locker like me and stared across the hall. “I think you’re so cool, Cassie.”
“Whatever,” I said as I fixed my messy hair. I think I’m going to vomit—someone actually likes you? Ew.
“I heard what happened to you,” she paused, “did it hurt?”
“Karen, I don’t want to talk about it—”
“I’m sorry I called 911. I was just so scared for you. I didn’t want you to die. You’re like one of my best friends.”
“Best friends?” I laughed. “We’ve hung out like once. I’m not your best friend. I had a best friend and let’s just say I’m glad she’s g
one.”
“Wow, you didn’t like Man—”
I put my finger over her mouth, “Shhh, don’t say her name.”
“You didn’t like M much, did you?”
“I loved her, but she hates me.”
“Hates?”
“Yeah, long story, Karen,” I sighed.
“Well, I liked your speech at the memorial. It shows you have balls to do that—to go up there and say what you feel. I could never do that.”
“Well—”
“Ladies?” Dr. Smith came walking down the hall toward us with his huge shoes.
I rolled my eyes and thought of something dim-witted to say to him. “Can I draw your feet?” I asked Dr. Smith as he walked closer to us.
“My feet?” he gasped.
“That’s so cool,” Karen muttered under her breath.
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you’re feet—”
“Okay, that’s enough,” he said. “The both of you get to class.”
I loved making others feel uncomfortable. It taught them to never ask me anything—or better yet, not talk to me. I believe Dr. Smith was afraid of me. I knew for a fact he didn’t like me because I knew about his little games he used to pull on Mandy. Dr. Smith was a sick man to say the least. That was one reason he never messed with me—because he knew I knew his secrets.
“You need to get to class, ladies,” he said in a firm tone.
“Okay, Dr. Smith,” Karen said as she walked away to class. “Bye Cassie, I’ll see you in Art class!”
“Bye, Karen,” I muttered as she ran off.
“You too, Cassie. Get to class,” he said.
“I do not understand why the police thought I was a suspect in M’s death. I mean, they should have looked for more sicker people…like you—”
“Cassidy, you need to get to class,” he snapped. “I can have you expelled from here and the only school left in this town is on the other side of town and you have to pay nine-hundred dollars a month. I don’t think your mother can afford that, now can she? Or maybe she can, but I will have to tell the police about what she does to get the money. We don’t want that do we?”
“Touché,” I smiled. “You’re good.”
“Get to class, now.”
I sighed and closed my locker. As Dr. Smith went back to his office, I walked slowly toward my math class in dread, hoping no one would stare at me when I would enter. I hated when I would open the door and everyone would look at me as if I were some freak.
I stopped and looked at my phone again. I was surprised Mama was not blowing up my cell yet—she probably did not find out yet that I left. I checked through my empty text message box—nothing.
“Ha!” A paper ball bounced off the back of my head.
I turned around and it was the Rat Pack again. I rolled my eyes and just stared at Phil, who I called the outcast of the bunch. He did not speak much, he just laughed at Kyle’s every lame joke. I only saw him in a blue moon because he attended school when he felt like it. “You guys should get a life,” I snapped. “And stop bugging me.”
“But, it’s fun bugging you,” Sam laughed. And they all laughed—mainly because they had the brain of a rat.
“You should just go kill yourself again,” Kyle added.
“That wasn’t funny,” I overheard Jordan whisper.
I paused and wanted to attack him so badly. It was as if Mandy had transformed into an extremely annoying teen boy and said the one thing she loved most. I swallowed hard and turned around. “Maybe I will. Mandy would want that,” I whispered as I rushed off into the girls’ restroom to check my face and clothes.
I listened as Dr. Smith yelled at the Rat Pack to go to class. I turned around to the dance team who were gossiping in the corner of the restroom.
“Betsy?” I said.
“Yeah?” she said in an annoyed tone.
“Shouldn’t you be in class?”
“We are talking about very important things here—like how Robby is cheating on his girlfriend—”
“You’re gossiping,” I smirked. “Typical.”
“Just be thankful we aren’t gossiping about you,” Betsy said.
“Whatever,” I mumbled and walked out the bathroom. I walked at a slow pace to my math class. When I entered, like expected everyone looked back at me. When I shut the door, like robots everyone went about his or her business.
My teacher stared at me, but he didn’t say anything to me. I don’t even think he wrote me up for being late.
I walked over to the only seat available, which was next to, you guessed it—the Rat Pack. I threw my notebook on the table and crashed into my seat. Kyle licked his tongue out at me but Jordan just stared at me. He always stared at me, even crazier than the others did—as if I always had a booger on my face.
“What?” I snapped, waking him from his gaze.
“Whoa you talk,” he teased. “You usually speak I don’t know—”
“Psychotic language?” Kyle laughed.
I flipped Kyle off and turned back to Jordan. “You don’t know me.”
“I see you around,” Jordan said.
“Really?” I said.
“Are we seriously having a conversation with emo girl?” Sam said. “Just leave her alone before she does what she did to Mandy to you.”
I rolled my eyes and opened my notebook to doodle my thoughts like usual. I did not draw very well. I was on the verge of a really good drawer or a really bad drawer. It’s amazing how even dead I control your life. If you were the one dead and I was alive, no one would even remember you. They would just feel sorry for me.
“What happened to your wrist?” Jordan interrupted my thoughts.
I gave him a gnarly look. He knew exactly what happened to me. He was just being a jerk who wanted to tease me about my depression. I put my head down on the desk and thought about Mr. Rivers and how we would have a daily talk.
“So you’re just gonna ignore me?” Jordan interrupted again. “I see how it is.”
I did not say anything and just kept my head down.
“Mandy used to say you were dangerously shy and that you would have spasms if anyone talked to you,” he continued to speak. “She would also say that you were emo and taught her how to cut—”
“What?” I gasped. “She told you that stuff? I did not even know you guys spoke. She would tell me she hated you guys.”
Kyle and Sam began to laugh. “Ha, she said that,” they both said.
“Then, why was she always talking to us to take her to get a tattoo or buy her a cigarette. She always talked about you, a reason why I couldn’t stand her. And it’s not because I didn’t want to hear about you, but it was like she was obsessed with you,” Jordan said.
I beamed. “Really? She would call you guys low life guys who would probably die on their motorcycle before they could pass health class.”
“That bitch,” Kyle muttered.
“She also said that you were obsessed with her but from what we’ve seen, it was like the opposite,” Jordan said.
A light bulb went off in my head and I began to smile. “Really?” Don’t listen to them, that would never be true. Why would I obsess over you?
“That’s a lie,” Kyle said. “Why would she want to obsess over you?”
I paused and looked at Kyle and without a conscious, I punched him in his jaw as hard as I could.
“Ouch!” he screamed. “You punched me!”
“Oh my god—” I gasped.
“Cassidy White? Is that you fighting in my class?” my teacher said from his desk.
My face turned red. “Uh,” I said as the class turned toward me. I didn’t know what got to me—the fact that Mandy was talking in my head or the fact that everything Kyle said reminded me of the evil her.
“Nope, it was me,” Jordan said as he popped his leather jacket’s collar. “I punched Kyle in the jaw.”
“Go outside, young man,” our teacher demanded. “That’s very inappropriate to do that.”
“But, we were just playing around—”
“Go!”
My jaw dropped as Jordan walked out the classroom. Everyone stared at me, knowing I was the one who hit Kyle. I swear, I did not mean to do it though. Something more powerful had taken over me. I had never felt like that before—now I understand all those exorcism movies.
All I could think—for once in my life, someone stood up for me.
“Bitch,” one of the “cool” kids said to me. And I came back to reality.
The bell rang within twenty minutes and I rushed out the door first. I went outside to where I spotted Jordan cleaning off his motorcycle from the water stains that the rain left.
“Why’d you do that?” I said as I approached him.
“Do what?” he gasped as I frightened him.
“Why did you do that in class?”
“Do what in class?”
“Why did you lie for me?”
“I hate school! I just really wanted to leave.”
“I hate class too,” I paused, “thanks.”
“Why’d you do that to him? I know you can’t stand us, but why did you punch him,” he laughed. “I’m surprise Kyle didn’t through a hissy fit over that.”
“He just says things that—”
“That makes you mad.”
“No, that reminds me of M.”
“Mandy?” he said.
“Shhh…don’t say her name, please.”
“Well, that’s good that he says things that remind you of her.”
“No, it’s not—”
“Oh, I forgot you’re grieving.”
“No, it’s just I don’t want to remember her like that.”
“Oh, I think that makes sense.”
I could hear the other Rat Pack members’ shoes getting closer to me. I turned around and Kyle’s fat mouth was ready to talk crap.
“Just smack me then!” I snapped. “Get it over with!”
“I’m not going to smack you,” Kyle said as he touched my chin. “You should just do us all a favor and get the blade and cut deeper.”
I smacked his hand down as he squeezed my chin. “Maybe, I should.”
“Yeah, Mandy would like that,” he snapped. “I think we will all like that!”
“Sure, why not!” I screamed and walked away in the opposite direction of the school.
“Where are you going?” Jordan said.
“Why would you care…”
I continued walking toward my home, which was close to school. It began to drizzle a bit, but I didn’t mind it. I couldn’t remember the last time I had showered so the rain counted, right?
I couldn’t understand why some people were so mean to me—well mean to anyone in general. What did those people think at night when they went to sleep? How did they feel when they woke up in the morning? They couldn’t have felt good or accepted because they were wrong.
When I approached my home, the town’s familiar cop car was outside my house. Either someone robbed Mama or she murdered someone. With horrible thoughts, I rushed into my house and Mama came running to me.
“Oh, baby!” she wrapped me in her arms. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
“Now, Valeria, if we have to come back again this month we are gonna have to lock Cassidy up,” said Michael. “We can’t keep doing this.”
“What?” I gasped. “I didn’t do anything.”
“I got a call that you were on the verge of suicide again,” Mama cried.
“Cassidy, we know a very good place for teens like you—”
Mama pushed Michael away, “You cops can leave now. She’s fine. Just leave her alone.”
He smiled and walked toward the door. “We’ll see you ladies later,” he said as he walked out with the others. “Hopefully, not soon.”
“Mama, I’m fine. You left work for this?” I laughed as I shut the door.
“Why are you smiling?” Mama asked in shock. “I haven’t seen you smile in ages.”
“Mama, who called you?” I asked. “The hospital?”
“Oh, no the hospital called a few hours ago saying you had left again,” she said as she put a cigarette in her mouth. “I tell you, Cassie, one of these days; you’ll be the death of me.”
“Don’t say that Mama.” I never wanted to imagine Mama dead—no matter how much we fought—she could never leave me—I wouldn’t allow it.
“Then, stop it!” she cried. “I do all this for you and this is how you repay me. Hospital bills after hospital bill.”
“Is this what you told dad?” I said.
“Don’t ever compare yourself to your father,” she snapped. “Ever!”
“Why?”
“Because he couldn’t control his cancer!” She slammed her fist on the table and tears flooded her eyes. It was all I would see those days, was Mama crying. I felt guilty but I felt as though she deserved it.
“It’s because you poisoned dad—”
Mama threw a liquor bottle toward my head. It barely missed me but the bottle came stumbling to the floor on my feet. “Don’t ever talk like that in my house!” she screamed as she stood up.
I had to think fast, because I could feel it coming. I could feel a fight about to start between us again. I grabbed a lamp and swung it over my head. “Mama, I swear if you hit me, I’ll beat you silly!”
“Cassidy, if you ever hit me with that lamp, I’ll kill you!” she screamed and charged at me like a lion.
Without thinking about the consequences, I slammed the lamp on the side of her face, causing her to bleed instantly. I dropped the lamp to the floor and jumped back in fear, not wanting her blood to touch me.
“Get out!” she shouted. “Just leave now!”
“But, you were going to hit me,” I cried.
“Cassidy, just leave!”
I ran to my room and grabbed my black boots and a handful of clothes. “Don’t worry, I’ll leave! I don’t need you!” I grabbed my school bag and stuffed anything that could fit into it. I walked into the living room and stared at her. Cassie, just keep walking. Honey, just leave her.
Without a word to Mama, I walked outside to my car. My car was the one thing Mama could never take away from me because it belonged to me—I bought my car.
I drove to the only place where I knew people would be during a school day—the bowling center. I parked in the parking lot and grabbed the box full of tissue that sat on my backseat. And like I was watching a sad Lifetime movie, I began to cry crocodile tears. I cried for about twenty minutes until I remembered the light bulb that had went off in my head earlier that day. I dug around in my glove department and pulled out Mandy’s diary that I had been trying to open for the last two weeks.
After Mandy’s disappearance, I went into her room to find any clues on where she could be. At the time, I didn’t know where Greg, her boyfriend, lived so I searched her room for an address. That is where I stumbled upon her diary, which I didn’t even know she had. I wouldn’t call it stealing, but I doubt she would want her parents to read it so I took it for safe keeping. However, after Jordan said that she always obsessed over me, she must have written it in her journal.
Someone tapping on my tented windows startled me. I rolled my window down and stared at no one there.
“Boo!” Jordan popped up, startling me again. “Hey, Cassie.”
“Don’t ever do that!” I snapped and was about to roll the window back up.
“Hey, wait—”
“What is it you want?” I snapped as I continued to pick at the diary. “I’m really busy.”
“What is that you have?” he said as he leaned into my car for a closer look. “Is that your diary?”
“Nope, it’s not mine.”
“I assume they don’t want you reading it, since it’s locked,” he said and yanked it from my hands. With a toothpick, Jordan dug around the heart shaped lock. “I open these things all the time.”
“You read other people’s diary?”
&nbs
p; “Maybe,” he winked and handed it back to me opened.
“I’m glad you’re okay,” he said as he ran his hands threw his long black hair. “I was worried about you.”
I flipped through the filled pages and looked back up at him. “Why were you worried about me?”
Jordan stuck the used toothpick back into his mouth, which I thought was gross and he said, “You said you were going to kill yourself. I’m just glad you didn’t.”
“And?”
“I called your mom for you,” he said. “Valeria is her name, right?”
“You?” I paused, “called my mom?”
“Like I said, I was worried about you.”
“But, how do you know her number?”
“I know people,” he smirked. “It’s not hard to get people’s number in this small town.”
“But, why would you care?” I asked. “If I’m dead or alive.”
He bit his lip thinking of what to say. “No one should die over Kyle.”
“You think I’m depressed because of Kyle?” I laughed. “You don’t know anything. I can care less about him.”
“But why?”
“Why should I care about someone who doesn’t benefit me in life?”
“Not that,” he laughed. “Why are you so depressed?”
“Why do you care?” I snapped and began to roll my window up.
“Wait!” he peeked through the little space I left. “Are you hungry?”
“No, I’m not hungry.”
“Then why are you here?” he said as he tried to lean back into my car.
“I just had a rough night with my mother.”
“Ooh, was it because of me?”
“No, it’s not—”
“Yo, Jordan?” called Sam. “Come on, they’re giving away free pizza!”
“You should leave. Your boyfriend is calling you,” I smiled.
“Yeah, I guess he is,” he said as he beamed. “You know you can come in?”
“I don’t want to.”
“Why? There is free pizza!”
“Well, not only do I not work there anymore, but my boss is probably mad at me. I don’t think I will be going back!”
“Wow, really?”
“Yeah,” I said.
“That's why you shouldn't work local…”
“Yeah, it's too late now.”
“Well, okay…bye, Cassie,” he said as he ran off with his friends.
I rolled my window back up and began to laugh to myself. And for the first time I laughed without effort. I hadn’t done that in years. I did not know what had come over me. I felt wanted for once—liked. He doesn’t like you; he is using you to get to me.
“But, your dead,” I said, snapping back to my reality.
So, he still wants me. And I swear, if you read my diary, I will not leave you alone.
“Watch me read it,” I smiled and opened it up. I scanned through the first pages and read every line that contained my name. Until I got to the page I was so looking for:
I feel bad being so mean to Cassie. She is my best friend, but Greg says she is trying to go against me and leave me. I won’t let it happen. Greg says I need to show who is boss and who wears the pants in our friendship. But, oh my, it hurts when I say those things to her. I hate lying to her, and yelling at her. She is already depressed with her mom and dad, but now I’m adding to it. I don’t know what I would do if Cassie really killed herself. I would just lose it and confess it was my fault. But Greg knows best and he knows what Cassie is really up too—
I shut Mandy’s diary and took a deep breath. “You were brainwashed by Greg. I never wanted to harm or leave you.” I stayed silent waiting for Mandy to respond, but I didn’t hear anything—nothing. “Mandy, are you there?”
Bitch.
I put my car in drive but some idiot stood behind my car as if he did not see my lights on.
“Move, dumbass!” I shouted through my window.
“Oh, Cassidy?” Mr. Walker, the town’s drunk came to my window. “Is your mother home? I’ve been trying to call her.”
“I wouldn’t know,” I said.
“You live with her, don’t you?” he laughed as the smell of hard vodka drowned me.
“Maybe she’s at work.”
“I went by there.”
“Home?”
“I’ll go by but…”
“I won’t be coming home tonight,” I answered his thought. “She kicked me out.”
“Thanks!” He laughed and ran off into the bowling center.
I hated that Mama had a fling with the town’s drunk. It was not beneath her though. She had secrets from me—technically, they were not—since I knew. She tried hard to hide her drinking, smoking, and coke addiction. I knew about all the pregnancies she had last year. I knew how she paid for all my school clothes. I was not an idiot.
I had no idea where I would go. I thought about staying with a friend, except I had no friends. Desperate, I dialed Karen’s cell phone.
“Hello?” she answered on the first ring.
“I need help,” I said.
“OMG let me call 911 again!”
“Wait, no! I’m not in that kind of trouble. My mom and I got into a fight.”
“Are you still at school?” she said.
“Nope, I’m driving right now. Isn’t school out now?”
“Yeah, I just got home from dance practice. I can pick you up.”
“Like you can drive?” I snapped. “I have my car.”
“Okay, then come over,” she cheered. “It’ll be like a sleepover.”
“I’ll be over later; I have things to take care of.”
I drove to the middle of Simon town, where the middle classed lived, but it was also where Mandy’s family lived. I held my breath as I remembered everything about her street. We would spend summers just riding our bikes up and down her block. And in the winter we would spend it on her balcony drinking hot coffee and telling silly ghost stories.
I pulled my beat up car into the Perez’s parking area in front of their garage. As I got out the car, Rose came outside with her eyes narrowed.
“What do you want?” Rosa said as she walked to me.
“I want to talk to you about…Mandy…” I sighed; relieved I could say her name without hearing her voice yelling at me.
“What is it you want to talk about? How evil she was and how she hurt you? I don’t want to hear it.”
“Well, yes, but here,” I handed Rosa Mandy’s diary. “I can breathe now, knowing that Mandy wasn’t a cold-hearted bitch.”
“Excuse me?”
“Well, I understand why she turned mean toward me.”
“And why is that?”
“Because she was brainwashed—”
“Brainwashed?”
“By Greg—”
“Don’t even say his name, Cassie.”
“And that’s how I felt about Mandy. I didn’t want to hear her name but now I understand and I don’t hear the voices anymore…well to an extent.”
“You should get that checked out; it’s not healthy to hear voices. That could be a sign of a mental disorder.”
“But, I don’t hear her anymore because she’s at peace now. She wanted me to know why she was so mean to me—”
“Cassie, you’re going to have to leave. You’re talking like a crazy person,” she snapped. “Just leave me alone and get off my property before I have you arrested.”
“But Rosa, I thought you wanted—”
“No, I want you to leave me alone because you’re a nut.”
I held my breath as Rosa walked back into her house. In anger, she threw Mandy’s diary into the garbage and slammed her door shut. I could hear her pushing the buttons on her loud house phone, probably calling the police on me.